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sobeautifullyobsessed · 10 months

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Of Magic, Miracles, and Moonlight

a Stephen Strange x OFC Romance

genre: pre-Infinity War, slow burn romance, older man/younger woman, teacher/student to friends to lovers characters: Stephen Strange, Wong, Teyla of Hadeeth (OFC), Moraine of Hadeeth (OC), additional OCs as Kamar-Taj staff rating: general audience to begin with, later chapters contain 18+ material

Ngl - I'm really hoping some of the authors in the Doctor Strange x Reader community will be kind enough to give this a read.🥺🥺 Even more so, a reblog - because I'm quite proud of my writing in this work, and I believe it deserves some love. Maybe some love could see me on my way to updating, even finishing, this WIP. It's lain fallow for far too long!

Chapter One

“Stephen, it’s nearly time.”

Wong’s voice pulled him from his scrutiny of the thick, weathered tome that had become his latest project. Since the passing of his mentor, the Ancient One, Stephen Strange was one of very few left in Kamar-Taj who made a regular practice of studying the advanced manuscripts, spell books, and obscure histories, which she had amassed during her centuries of service as the Sorcerer Supreme. His eidetic memory served him equally well in this pursuit, as it had in his previous vocation; as one of the world’s most talented and successful neurosurgeons he had learned the lesson early on—that knowledge was power—though the power he sought now he would wield for a even nobler purpose than those of his previous life.

“Remind me, Wong…it’s nearly time for…” Stephen let his voice trail off with the question, focusing just a few moments more on the script marking the page before him.

“For the arrival of the emissary from Hadeeth, Stephen,” Wong replied, “As well you know. Need I remind you that our alliance with Hadeeth goes back nearly four hundred years?”

“Not at all, Wong. I’m acutely aware—down to the smallest minutiae—of the terms of our accord the with the Hadeethans, having familiarized myself with every scrap of parchment the Ancient One left behind, detailing the particulars of our relationship.” Strange closed the leather-bound book before him, stretched a mite, and then rubbed thumb and forefinger upon his closed eyelids. “I’ve got a rotten case of eyestrain in the process, but I suppose I’m as ready for this as I can ever be,” he grumbled, “Although I’m not entirely certain why I have to be the one to meet with their envoy. A Master with years of experience—and not one with barely twelve months--would surely make a better representative of Earth. Let alone Kamar-Taj.”

Refusing to be pulled back into the ongoing debate, Wong remained impassive. “Of the Masters left in Kamar-Taj, you are the best qualified by virtue of your life experience. And in the absence of a Sorcerer Supreme, a Master of one of our Sanctums is the best that we can offer.”

He clapped Stephen on the shoulder, “Accept that you’re destined for this bit of diplomacy, Stephen. It can’t be anywhere near as complicated as navigating your way through the human brain to excise a pin point sized tumor.”

Strange rose to his feet, favoring Wong with a scowl, “As usual, Wong, your vote of confidence is underwhelming—but I will do my best not to provoke a diplomatic incident with an ally that has had Earth’s back for hundreds of years, and in some hairy situations.”

A young attendant placed the tray with fresh-brewed tea and a sampling of Nepalese delicacies on the low table before him. Without a word, she filled a cup with the hot liquid, and set it down beside the pot, before sliding a plate of almond honey cakes closer at hand to him. Stephen nodded, murmuring his thanks—though he was a little too nervous to partake of one of his favorite dishes. Instead, he stirred a bit of honey into his tea, briefly reflecting on the first cup of honeyed tea he had partaken in this very room, barely more than a year ago. With a shock to his system, he had been quickly educated as to how very much he did not know about the world, the universe, and the human mind and spirit; and since then, he had learned much more than he would ever had imagined of things he’d never even entertained as plausible. He considered himself a work in progress, truly humbled for the first time in his life, when he took into account how much he still did not know.

Yet, he had earned the respect of his peers here and—just moments before her death--the Ancient One had appointed him Master of the New York Sanctum. Strange took that responsibility ever seriously, having seen and experienced for himself the sort of assaults from other dimensions which Earth would be prey to were it not for the ancient protections provided by the band of sorcerers, bound in service to mankind.

The man he once was—before the accident that had deprived him of his livelihood, and the purpose by which he defined himself—Doctor Stephen Strange had the hubris to consider himself the best his specialty had ever known, and the ambition to pursue the loftiest positions of influence and power in his field. Now, as he split his time between New York and Nepal, he was in a constant quest for knowledge that would enable him to do this job to the best of his ability, while never seeking glory for himself. He would not—could not, in fact—allow himself to aspire to the title of Sorcerer Supreme…although more often than not these days, he was given--by some silent agreement (to which he was no party)--the deference and the responsibilities that came with that designation. Today, he would prefer to be a mere rank and file mage—but he could not turn his back upon the service that was asked of him.

Stephen rose when Wong appeared in the entrance way, ushering a stately, robed woman into the room. “Master Strange, allow me to present Mistress Moraine of Clan Kayolo, member of the Hadeethan Ruling Council,” Wong gave her a nod of respect, before moving to Stephen’s side.

Following the formal protocol which the Ancient One had chronicled, Strange bowed at the waist before speaking. “Welcome to Kamar-Taj, Mistress Moraine of Hadeeth. We are honored by your presence, and offer hospitality and friendship to you, and any others under your protection, for however long you sojourn here.”

She bowed in reply, and recited her opening remarks smoothly, her rich voice that of a woman accustomed to oratory, “The honor is mine, Sir. On behalf of my people, and in the name of our alliance, I accept your hospitality, Master Strange.” Moraine paused, studying him closely, before adding, “May the worlds we serve continue to benefit from our partnership.”

Strange motioned her to take a seat, then sat himself, while Wong moved forward to pour tea for the Hadeethan woman; the ensuing silence enough to allow Stephen an observation or two. She was definitely dignified (royalty was the first word that came to his mind), aloof and otherworldly; she wore her thick, silver hair loose and unadorned, for surely nothing could flatter her more than it’s natural glory; and the only subtle sign of age he could discern, were small crinkles at the corners of her pale grey eyes--but since he knew the average Hadeethan lifespan was upwards of 150 Earth years, they gave no clue regarding her actual age. There was a palpable feel of strength of will about her, as though her spine were made of steel. Moraine appeared—in short—to be a power to be reckoned with. He vowed to tread carefully regarding whatever topic she had arrived to discuss.

She sipped her tea, then nodded her approval, “Ah…it’s been far too long since I sampled this welcoming taste of Kamar-Taj. Though I regret I shall never raise my cup with the Ancient One again.”

“Her loss remains a heavy one for us to bear, Mistress Moraine,” he replied, a truth he felt most keenly every day, “And nothing would make me happier than for her to be here in my place.”

“I bear the condolences of my people for the dread passing of a wise leader and constant ally,” she told him, “And for myself, I share in your grief; for I had known the Sorcerer Supreme from my youth—as a teacher, then a mentor, and at the last, a friend.”

“I envy you that,” he admitted, “We all miss her guidance—but we have done our best to go forward as we believe she would see fit.”

Moraine narrowed her eyes, looking for the truth in his reaction, “And you do not seek to guide in her place? To bear the mantle she wore for centuries?”

Stephen shook his head vehemently, “I assure you, I am not that man. And honestly, I can’t think of anyone who could fill her shoes.”

She nodded, pleased with his reply, than raised her cup. “It is always so with the best of leaders. May we all do her proud in the service we provide to our worlds.”

“May we indeed,” he echoed, drinking from his cup as well.

Formalities now aside, Moraine was swift to reveal the surprising purpose of her visit. “I come on a personal matter, Master Strange. ‘Tis my hope you will entertain my request, if not for the sake of relations between our worlds, but for she whom we both miss.”

“I am certain we can accommodate you, Mistress Moraine. The resources of Kamar-Taj are at your service.”

“Even as I had anticipated,” she asserted, wearing a small relieved smile, “As you may know, Hadeeth has a good share of practitioners of the mystic arts. And in our culture, this is a thing well-known, even aspired to. In fact, by long standing tradition, the majority of those who sit on our ruling council are skilled in magic.”

Strange nodded, having gleaned those facts from the Ancient One’s notes, “Magic being the primary reason our worlds are well-suited as allies.”

Moraine bobbed her head in a brief acknowledgement, then continued, “On Hadeeth, we have found that the aptitude for magic, and the strength to wield it properly, are most prevalent in certain bloodlines. As a result, it is not uncommon for a particular clan to hold a council seat for several generations.”

“I take it that is your own experience,” he inferred.

“It is, Master Strange. But seats are not granted automatically—and those aspiring to them must pass a series of tests, unique to the individual.”

“And these tests involve the use of magic?”

“Exactly so—and thus arises my need for your assistance,” she admitted.

A bit perplexed, he might’ve asked, but Moraine had anticipated his question. “Not for myself, Master Strange—for my daughter, Teyla.” And then surprising him, she added, “A daughter of both our worlds.”

Not having known such a mingling of their races was even possible, it took a moment for him to respond, “You’re asking that we train her here, in Kamar-Taj?”

Moraine’s face took on a pleasant sort of softness, clear sign of the depth of her feelings for her child. “She has ever been my greatest treasure, and from the moment in which I discerned that she possessed aptitude for the mystical arts, I had planned to entrust my own best teacher with her tutelage.” She lowered her eyes, her voice become sorrow-tinged, “Who could have anticipated that such a plan would go unrealized?”

Stephen remained speechless, moved by her quiet show of grief. In the months since the Ancient One fell, he had learned things about her he had never expected—always making him long for the fruits of the wisdom she might have shared with him.

Having set aside her sorrow, Moraine looked to him again, firm of purpose, “Teyla’s skill--her strength—lies in the healing of body, mind, and heart. And though this ability is a miracle in itself, it does not suit well the sort of trials she is likely to face in the fullness of time.”

The doctor in him wanted to ask more of Hadeethan healing magic, but the situation would not allow for it—though he made a promise to himself to learn more of their practices when possible, with an eye towards the exchange of knowledge that might enable him to fulfill again that purpose of more than half his lifetime. “What training would best prepare your daughter for these future trials?”

Moraine looked please at his show of willingness, “She will need to develop defensive skills, for both her own safety, and for those who may someday fall under her protection.” She paused, gauging his reaction, and then concluded, “Teyla also possesses a small degree of prescience, although she is not yet capable of employing it at will. She dreams, yet cannot tell when the images may come to pass; she has strong, yet unpredictable, flashes of intuition, which she finds difficult to interpret. This gift is useless to her until she can cultivate the proper wisdom and discipline.”

“There are no teachers on Hadeeth that might guide her?” he asked, “Seers are rare, even in Kamar-Taj. I can’t guarantee our knowledge is enough to guide her beyond the most rudimentary training.”

“They are rarer still, on Hadeeth,” Moraine shrugged, “So rare they come but a handful of times in each generation. Though I am her mother, I haven’t even a touch of that gift.”

Stephen nodded, considering her request a moment. “We will do our best, Mistress Moraine—but in this case, I can make no promise.”

“I understand, Master Strange. And with this understanding, I will entrust you with Teyla’s further education. For the sake of our alliance,” she reminded him, “And for all the hopes a parent has for their child’s safety and happiness.”

They had concluded their meeting by settling upon three Earth days as the interval until Teyla would arrive at Kamar-Taj. “Of course, we’ll need to see what magic your daughter is already capable of, before we proceed with any training plan,” he cautioned her, as he and Wong escorted her back to the courtyard for her departure. “Please be sure she understands what lies ahead.”

“Oh, she is already more than prepared for that,” Moraine told him gratefully, “And she has spent a share of time on Earth--living with her father for several years--so you should find she will easily acclimate to your world.” With that, she drew on her sling ring—the magical tool which the Ancient One had shared with the Hadeethans, in consideration of their partnership—and conjured a portal back to her home world. Stephen could discern very little of what lay on the other side; a room half lit with what could be daylight, vague shapes that were likely Hadeethan furniture.

Moraine turned his way, and bowed low, and then rose to meet his eye. “Please keep in mind, Master Strange, that some of the tests Teyla may come to face are dangerous. I beg you to see she is properly prepared to survive, beyond the training I have already given her. I will be in your debt, and Earth’s, for the remainder of my days—and look forward to the day when I can be of service to your world, in return.” She stepped into the portal, and raised her hand in farewell, closing the circle before he could utter a word in reply.

“Well, this should prove interesting,” Wong observed, “How much experience do you have dealing with teenagers?”

“Barely to none,” Stephen confessed, “And I hadn’t counted on being asked to play a schoolmaster to a rookie sorcerer.”

Wong chuckled, amused at Strange’s befuddlement, “I’m thinking diplomacy will turn out to be child’s play, compared to the task you have ahead of you.”

“Yes,” Steven agreed grimly, heading back to the library to continue his studies of earlier. “And I’d much rather be navigating my way through the human brain, then babysit an angsty adolescent.”

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