Obscene Symphony

Of Blood and Magic

Aaron listened eagerly, a little on edge himself as the girl described the explosive match. Again and again he cursed his bad luck at not being able to watch; he’d have to see if he could set aside some time to watch the replays or something. Rijker’s new technique was intriguing, but not exactly surprising—with her affinity and her focus on evocation, she was known to be a bit of a glass ballista—and Aaron was more interested in Hollyfield; he was already a more balanced fighter to start with, one Aaron favoured at that, and if it was as effective as the girl described, this new trick of his bode very well for his career. Not to mention Aaron’s standing bets.

“See? This is exactly why I can’t stand that new coach!” Aaron exclaimed. “Rijker is already a powerhouse on the offence, but as soon as anyone gets past that she’s left with what, a meek little deflection? What she needs is some solid defence training. Her coaches always played to her strengths but she’s strong enough already; she needs someone brave enough to stand up to that ego of hers and shore up her weaknesses and this coach clearly doesn’t have it in him.” He spoke with a passion he hadn’t felt in months, though an exasperated sigh still escaped him, as if he’d had this argument a thousand times. Not that he had, but he’d been saying it to himself for ages, at least. “She could be champion of the entire league like that—” he snapped his fingers, producing a small flash “—if someone would just work on her defence a bit, but they keep pigeon-holing her like this and I’m telling you, it’s holding her back.”

He shook his head, but his frustration didn’t linger long, replaced by a bit of a sheepish smile. “Afraid I didn’t record it, no. I usually watch the matches online; I’ll have to see if I can dig up the full broadcast soon.” Aaron neatly omitted the fact that he didn’t record the match because despite his familiarity with computers, he hadn’t the first idea how to work a TV. Besides, he doubted Varis would let him fill the dorm with TCL commentary anyway. It was just as well; sure, a lot of TCL broadcasts were hidden behind irritating paywalls, but luckily, having an IP address associated with the Noilas got you into just about anything for free.

“But more importantly,” he insisted, looking to the girl eagerly, “who won?!”

_@Achronum

Of Blood and Magic

The line at the supply tables moved quicker than Aaron expected, though admittedly he was a little distracted with watching Varis cut a trench through the crowd on his way to Ryner. Aaron couldn’t hear what was being said, but the Count’s posture and his attitude back at the dorm combined with the Princess’ disinterested stare told him just about all he needed to know.

He sighed. He wished Varis could just accept his fate this once, but he knew better than to think that was a possibility. Varis cherished control and even after only a few months, Aaron knew it would be a battle to convince him to surrender it. Especially under these circumstances. Aaron had to admit he was a little hurt that Varis trusted him so little, but he supposed it was to be expected; even after he thought they’d finally made some progress, Varis still barely trusted him enough to put him in charge of letter-writing, much less his safety. A bitter thought that he could have done this job better with Dawn still in his possession crossed his mind, but Aaron wouldn’t dwell on it. Varis seemed intent on digging his own grave and he was in no position to refuse him.

He watched Eris trudge by in what he could only describe as workout spandex with veiled amusement (and almost had to stifle a laugh at Max's cheery comment) before finally approaching the supply tables, the crowd having thinned as mages found their spots along the woods or collected near the assembly of vampires to watch as one of the Counts got in the Princess’ face. Aaron did his best to ignore it—a noble tantrum was a lot less exciting when you were the one who had to go home with it at the end of the night—and focused on the mages handing out food.

Taking food, water and a pair of hand warmers, Aaron leaned over the table a bit, lowering his voice. “You guys don’t happen to have any painkillers to hand out, do you?”

The girl behind the table shook her head apologetically. “I’m afraid not, just the food and warmers. Sorry!”

Aaron shook his head, thanking the girl before making his way over to the line at the edge of the woods. There, though, a familiar grey hat caught his attention, sitting on top of a brown-haired girl in plain, neutral clothing who also seemed to be looking for her name. She was about the same size and build as Lilie, though maybe not quite as thin, not that anyone could really tell under all those layers. It took him a moment to figure out why someone so otherwise nondescript caught his attention, until he saw the person she’d been speaking to veer away and remembered; she’d been sitting a row or so ahead of him and Varis on the bus, chatting to that other person across the aisle about a recent TCL match. He hadn’t been able to catch the conversation in full, but he perked up considerably at his fortune, falling into step next to her and gently tapping her on the shoulder.

“Excuse me?” he asked politely, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Sorry to bother you, but I overheard you talking about a TCL fight on the bus and I was wondering, did you happen to see last night’s match? I follow it pretty closely but I...” He chuckled a little uncomfortably and massaged the sore part of his neck, recalling how Varis had him running hither and yon all night in his irritation over the upcoming exam. “I didn’t get the chance to watch.”

_@Achronum

Of Blood and Magic

Aaron had actually been pretty excited about the practical, but that anticipation had dimmed considerably by the time they finally disembarked. With Varis pushing him harder than normal lately and the added strain of watching him abuse Dawn every chance he got, exhaustion largely eclipsed his excitement; tonight had been one of the nights that the circles under his eyes were dark enough to need concealer, though he wasn’t sure whether to be proud or annoyed that he’d gotten pretty practiced at applying it. Additionally, an irritating headache was starting to form at the base of his neck, no doubt a remnant of Varis’ little ear-ringing tantrum back at the dorm. He didn’t look it, sitting next to Aaron on the bus all calm and dignified, but a displeased Varis could get incredibly loud. At least he wasn't the source of Varis’ outrage this time, although Aaron had a sneaking suspicion the consequences would still find their way back to him somehow.

The cold air, at least, was a blessing, helping him clear his head a little as they stepped off the bus onto the staging grounds. Aaron pulled up the collar of his turtleneck against the wind; it wasn’t too cold, but he knew it would feel a lot colder after six hours in the woods and had dressed accordingly, opting for a black double-breasted coat and matching leather gloves with a pair of insulated boots replacing his usual oxfords for the evening. He wasn’t fond of giving up his watch (he kept moving to check it out of habit, only to come up empty) but what really made him uneasy was the lack of a scabbard on his hip. The few days since Dawn was taken away had been weird enough without being dropped into the middle of the forest unarmed, and Aaron was feeling more vulnerable than he’d like without it, no matter how safe and well-guarded the practical grounds logically were.

He caught a glimpse of Lilie through the crowd of first-years getting off the buses—goodness those earmuffs were cute—but didn’t follow her to the supply tables just yet, opting to hang back out of the way until the crowd dispersed a little. He’d say he was being polite and letting other people have their turn first, which he supposed wasn’t altogether false, but mostly he just had neither the energy nor the patience to wade through a crowd of nervous and excited mages at the moment.

He winced when the announcement sounded—oh good, a megaphone, that felt great on his pounding head—and cast a weary glance over to where the Princess stood with one of the Spell Theory professors, waiting for the vampires to assemble and receive their enchantments. Oh boy, he did not envy her the earful she was about to get from Varis. He had no doubt she wouldn’t budge, but Varis seemed to think he could lean on her to get out of this ordeal, and far be it from Aaron to try and stop him. Aaron just hoped he didn’t cause too much of a scene.

_{Ogling @Hero and dreading @Achronum's oncoming episode}

Obscene's Scratchpad

sweater

My future is not determined; I am.

Aleon: A serious dark/high-fantasy roleplay worldbuilding project. (Custom universe, kingdom-building, Arabic-themed. DM/GM desired.)

I'd call what you're looking for something like a large-scale 1x1, personally. More like co-authoring a story than purely an rp, if you catch my drift.

Of Blood and Magic

<sub>Dates: October 8th - November 4th

If you read nothing else of mine, read these ones for plot!</sub>

10/8: Aaron & Mr. Deshane

Deliberation

Aaron had never been good at sitting still.

And that was at the best of times. But now, waiting for his appointment with his guidance counselor to roll around, he was even more fidgety than normal. He had his elbows perched on his knees, his whole body shaking with the feverish rhythm his leg jumped of its own accord. He fiddled mercilessly with his ring, moving it from finger to finger and spinning it madly. Now and then he’d pause to blow a stray lock of hair out of his eyes, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to realize he’d have better luck if he just braided it up out of the way.

Ever since the school had given notice that arcane majors were to be declared by the end of the term, fierce indecision had been clouding his every thought. Sure, it probably wasn’t an uncommon sentiment - after all, everyone was probably feeling a little intimidated about choosing the arcane path they’d be taking - but what probably set him apart was that he wasn’t struggling to choose between this or that arcane school, but rather deliberating over just one.

He’d been prowling the library for weeks, reading up as much as he could about his prospective choice. He’d found a lot of good information, though none of it was particularly comforting; what was more, any books about its actual practice were locked away in the library ceiling, barred from consumption by the general populace. He’d be lying if he said the secrecy didn’t intrigue him, but there was more than enough disturbing information he could access to make him think twice. Before he’d come to the Academy, he probably never would have considered it, but after that night with Lady Sinnenodel and realizing he’d probably have similar experiences every time he dealt with her for the rest of his life, his potential path had seemed more and more like a necessity.

At long last, the door to the counselor’s office opened, and Aaron was beckoned in. Grateful for the chance to move, he stood and made his way inside, sitting where the counselor gestured and doing his best to put his thoughts in order.

Aaron's guidance counselor sat behind his desk, thick eyebrows shot up in surprise. The older man was heavy set and papers were scattered everywhere across the desk. Two computer monitors beeped quietly at him and he turned them off, sitting forward with his hands steepled. The man considered Aaron a moment before speaking

“Mr. Starag himself in my office. Never thought I'd see the day.” The man laughed, his voice rumbling from his chest. His eyes twinkled. “A surprise but a pleasant one at that. What can we do for you today my boy?”

Aaron answered the counselor’s laugh with an obligatory chuckle, offering the man a smile before looking back down more pensively at his shoes. He’d gotten that sort of reaction from a few other staff members so far; he still wasn’t sure what the big deal was, but it was important to handle it graciously nonetheless.

After a moment of spinning his ring, he collected his thoughts enough to sit up properly, schooling his features into something more cordial that didn’t reflect the turmoil he’d been going through in recent weeks. Best to get right to it.

“Well,” he began, looking around the office before forcing himself to pick one thing to look at and focus on it, “You’ve probably been hearing a lot of this, but I was hoping for some advice on choosing an arcane major.”

“Of course my boy!” The man, whose name tag said Mr. Deshane, pulled out a binder for every arcane school. “Did you have any thoughts on where you'd like to start or would you like to go over all of them?”

Aaron almost grimaced, but stayed pleasant. “That’s just the problem,” he admitted, tugging on his ear, “I… really only have one idea.”

He paused a second more to gather his thoughts before sighing, leaning back a little and deciding to just come out with it. “I’ve been looking into Mental magic.”

Mr. Deshane blinked for a few moments after Aaron's confession and he shuffled his binders around, putting the purple Mental Magic binder in front. He flipped it open with a thud and looked back up at Aaron.

“I take it that your indecision comes from the potential risks.” Mr. Deshane spoke seriously. “The risk of losing your affinity is very real and there are several prerequisites before applying. You'll need a written recommendation from one of your affinity instructors and there will be a full psychological evaluation before you are approved. What makes you want to take this route?”

Aaron nodded along with Mr. Deshane, playing with his ring again. He’d hit the nail on the head; the risk of losing his affinity was probably the only thing stopping Aaron from making his choice, the possibility so daunting it kept managing to overshadow the reasons he wanted to go down this path in the first place. But those reasons were hefty on their own, hence the indecision. He’d been beating his head against the wall on the issue for weeks for specifically that reason.

“I suppose I had a bad experience,” Aaron admitted, careful not to get into too much detail, “And even though the risks are… well, terrifying, I can’t shake the feeling that it’s something I need to do.” He leaned an elbow on the arm of his chair, looking to the counselor. “Does that make any sense?”

“I'm afraid not but if you're determined, I won't try and talk you out of it. Let's go over our prerequisites then.” The man sighed and unclipped a page from. The binder, handing it over to Aaron. It had a long list of courses. “These are all the education you need before the Academy even considers your application. Four additional affinity courses and three advanced spell theory classes, including one dedicated to protection. With such a high risk of affinity loss, these classes are meant to help strengthen your connection. You'll sacrifice a lot of freedom on the academic side of your courses until you've cleared these unfortunately. Are you okay with that?”

Now it was Aaron’s turn to raise his eyebrows, tossing Mr. Deshane a look of surprise before he turned his attention to the list he’d been given. Was he really not going to try and talk him out of it? Aaron had almost been hoping he would, thinking that this meeting would knock some sense into him after having so seriously considered such a dangerous school. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, turning his thoughts instead to the list.

“...Yes, that’s fine,” Aaron replied, a tad preoccupied by the list. He’d been wanting to do more affinity courses anyway, and as for the rest of them… well, freedom was a relative concept, and to be honest, none of the other arcane schools had piqued his interest once he’d realized that mental magic was an option anyway. But that possibility of affinity loss was a considerable hurdle to jump to make his choice.

“How high is the risk, exactly?” Aaron asked, handing the list back to the counselor. “I’ve done as much research as I could into the subject, but I never could find a number.”

“Our last count was…” He rifled through the binder again. “53%. Just over half those enrolling in the course lose their affinity. Of course, these numbers aren’t the greatest since we don’t have a stable control group. Some years we only have 1 applicant and others we have a full twelve. We haven’t lost anyone in the past two years thankfully.” He looked at Aaron, concern clearly showing in his eyes.

“If you choose this path, you have to be sure your connection to your affinity is strong. We do our best to encourage its growth but only you can really tell.” He leaned back and tapped a pen on his desk. “Do you have regular activities to destress and relax? This branch has the second most difficult spells to control and the process is incredibly stressful and violating until you can control the magic.”

Aaron almost groaned. 53%? That was terrible. Any self-respecting gambler would never go in on such shoddy odds if anything of value was on the line. And something of value was on the line.

So why was he still considering it?

He took a moment to think, leaning back in his chair. His connection to his affinity was strong, or at least, he thought it was. The more he learned about it, the more he used it, treating it like a reflex. He barely even thought about it; to him, it was an extension of his body, as much a part of him as his arms and legs. And what was more, he loved it. Practicing affinity mastery was probably the best part of his day, aside from sitting next to Lilie in Spell Theory.

Remembering the counselor’s question, Aaron played with his ring again, mentally cataloguing his habits. “I train to relax,” he stated simply, though he did smirk. “‘Gets me out of my head’, so to speak. I’ve always found it hard to be stressed while exhausted.”

Thinking another second, he added, “I keep journals as well, and playing my cello also helps calm me down. Anything that lets me work on muscle memory, I suppose.” He left out the occasional daytime trips to the woods. Those were probably better kept private.

“You’ll need to figure out a solid routine that lets you rest both your body and mind so training is out of the question.” Mr. Deshane typed into his computer to wake it up and typed for few a few moments while talking. “You need a regular, restful, routine. It should last about an hour of nothing that requires too much exertion, mentally or physically, and helps ground you emotionally. Perhaps you should ask..” he trailed off as he read the screen, clicking his tongue thoughtfully. “Maybe not. Though it is a requirement that you have something so even Count Sinnenodel couldn’t deny you that.”

“The cello wouldn’t be a bad idea but I imagine that an hour of that daily in addition to whatever practice you manage may be boring. The official suggestion is spending a few hours with your partner to develop a plan and then test it for a few weeks but in this case, I would recommend finding someone else you trust or know to have some empathy to make that plan and then present it to him.” Mr. Deshane turned away from his computer again. “I can schedule a meeting with a student currently in the program if that would help. She is Athena Lexitori’s mage, the acting president of the Arena Guild. She is quite accomplished in the art and might be able to provide some better insight into the difficulties you’ll face.”

Aaron listened intently, pulling out his phone to jot down everything the counselor mentioned. He smirked knowingly at the little jab at Count Varis, though it was only there for a second before he schooled his features into something more polite. He wasn’t thrilled that training wouldn’t work, though. Ever since he’d started when he was ten, training had been one of his only outlets. A new method would take some getting used to if he did decide to go this route.

He perked up, however, at the mention of someone he could speak to. “That would be excellent, thank you,” he told the counselor, “did she manage to hold on to her affinity?”

“So far, yes. With her control over the mental disciplines, our instructors are surprised she has but as of yet, we’ve seen no signs of affinity regression.” He replied, the pride and relief evident on his face. “When I reviewed her psychological evaluation while I was on the committee, I had my doubts but she managed to surpass all of our expectations so far.”

Aaron nodded, pensive. Maybe if someone ‘unexpected’ like her could do so well, there was some hope for him. But he still wanted to know what he was dealing with.

“What more can you tell me about the risks?” He asked, almost a little scared to hear the answer. “For example, affinity loss. Is it something that just happens at random, or is it possible to recognize before it’s permanent? Is there any way to consciously work against it?” He leaned forward on his elbows, morbidly curious.

“We have no way of measuring affinity loss without the mage’s communication. From what we understand, the process happens rather naturally. They don’t notice losing it until it happens.” He leaned back again, resuming tapping. “Affinity magic is the result of everything we are and how we perceive that. Mental magic expands the mind, making it do things no regular mage is capable of, and sometimes things change in the process. The mind is a tricky machine and one that doesn’t take lightly to unnatural alterations. There are some warning signs but none of them are consistent across all mages. It’s why we focus on affinity classes all through the program.”

“We believe maintaining a close connection with familiar comforts, friends, family, spouses, and hobbies, help maintain a healthy balance between affinity magic and the arcane arts. You’ll undergo regular psychological evaluations throughout the process as well so we can try and refocus your activities to help avoid that loss.”

Aaron nodded along, somewhat somber as he listened. It astonished him that someone could somehow not notice losing their affinity. Even as early on in his education as he was, the very idea sounded as absurd as not noticing the loss of your arm. Did those who lost their affinity have a weak connection to start with? Or was mental magic so intense that he simply couldn’t fathom its effects? What was he in for?

That line of thinking led him down a dark path, and finally, he had to mention something. “This information is very helpful, thank you.” he began, “but to be honest, I thought I’d come in here and you’d try to talk me out of it.”

Tugging his ear, he finally had to ask. “I realize you’re probably not supposed to give an opinion, but if I may ask anyway, what would you recommend I do? Am I an idiot for pursuing this?”

“Personally, I believe this school of magic should be banned as well. I do not recommend anyone go into it.” Mr.Deshane admitted after a long pause. “But the branch has amazing potential. It’s just so incredibly risky. I technically can’t tell you not to enter if you want to but I would highly recommend you talk to a few others on it. Maybe even your partner if you can convince him to talk to you like a person rather than a resource.” The man made a face at that statement.

“Whatever you chose, the Academy will do its best to make sure you succeed safely. The Princess has made sure of that.” Mr. Deshane smiled comfortingly at Aaron. “Speaking of which, did you want me to schedule an appointment with that student?”

Aaron suppressed a groan at Mr. Deshane’s statement; he'd found more than a little speculation in his research as to why mind magic hadn't been banned. He almost wished it had, too; if so, the event that threw him into this whole mess would never have happened.

It took a second for Aaron to realize Mr. Deshane had finished speaking, and when he did, he cleared his throat and straightened up, a little embarrassed at having gotten lost in thought. “Yes, please, I’d appreciate it,” he replied, standing and holding out a hand. “Thank you, you've been very helpful.”

10/14: Aaron & Hannah Harbuckle

Hannah Harbuckle

Mr. Deshane sent a letter to the Sinnenodel dorm confirming the details of the meeting with Hannah. She agreed to meet at 5am in study room 2 in the library. The library itself was a bit louder than usual as students scoured the bookshelves for research material and texts and tomes flew every which way. The study rooms were only on the ground floor, a single door set next to the entrance. Entering required a key that a librarian supplied when the reservation time approached and each set of keys would take students to a specific room despite the shared door.

The study rooms, in addition to being private and quiet, were themed for students who needed a relaxing space to work. Study room 2 in particular sat on an empty stretch of beach. A round table sat in the middle of a large pagoda, cushioned benches in the place of chairs. A projector on a mini fridge sat across from a drop down screen. Gulls cried in the distance and crystal blue waves rolled over golden sand, shimmering in the warm sunlight.

Hannah sat underneath the shade, sipping quietly at an iced coffee. She wore simple clothes, a bright t-shirt and jeans accompanied with a pair of garish flip flops. Her hair was tied back in a messy bun and a pair of silver framed glasses sat on tired eyes. She watched the gulls in the distance, seeming distracted.

When Aaron retrieved the study room key from one of the librarians, he’d been expecting to step into a small room with tables and chairs, not unlike the practice room back home. What he walked into was a shock to say the least; he wasn’t bothered by the sudden brightness of sunlight, eyes adjusting immediately, but rather by the jarring change. He had thought the magic in the rest of the library was extraordinary enough, with its warping of space and gravity, but this was above and beyond what he could have expected.

He took a moment to stare around at the beach and the ocean, stunned, before he found another figure in a nearby pagoda. He made his way over carefully, awkwardly stepping through the sand before gratefully reaching the pagoda, shaking sand off of his shoes before he turned his attention to the girl on the bench. Noticing she seemed distracted, he followed her gaze, finding nothing but birds in the distance. Good lord, did the room really extend out that far, or was it just an illusion?

In any case, they had something more important to do. Turning back to the girl, Aaron cleared his throat and offered a smile and a hand. “Hannah? I’m Aaron, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Oh, you're here!” Hannah startled from whatever she was thinking, a smile crossing her face as she shook his hand. “Sorry, it's so quiet I kinda spaced. So, what's up? Mr. Deshane said you wanted to talk about the program? Oh and I brought some coffee in the fridge if you drink it.” Hannah gestured to the mini fridge. She watched him intently however and he could feel just the slightest brush against his mind before she blinked and it disappeared.

“Oops, sorry sorry. Habit and all that.” She laughed. “Once you're used to getting in people's heads, it's just instinct.”

Aaron shook her hand politely, though he recoiled a bit when he felt a sensation he couldn’t quite describe in his head. Luckily, it was gone as quickly as it came, with Hannah apologizing. That had been her? Aaron couldn’t say he was fond of it, but it was definitely more pleasant than what Lady Sinnenodel’s mages had done.

“Uh, no worries,” he replied a little uneasily, settling onto the bench a bit away from Hannah. Forcing a bit of a nervous laugh, he asked, “See anything?”

“Nerves and concern. I didn't delve deep enough.” She kicked off her sandals and put her feet up on the table, leaning back. “Relax. I don't bite. Though I get it. This magic is pretty intense. Took me almost a year to stop randomly jumping into these weirdos’ heads. Gotta say, don't miss that phase. People think weird shit.” She laughed, gagging at a memory. “So, talk to me. What's going on?”

Nerves and concern? Sounded about right. That could have been an apt description of almost his entire Academy experience so far, Aaron mused. He laughed along with Hannah, mostly just to save face, before becoming a bit more businesslike.

“Well, you’re right, I was interested to hear from someone in the program,” he told her, shifting a little in his seat so that he could look at her face-on. “Against my better judgement, I’m considering going into the mental program myself. I suppose I’m wondering what you could tell me about what I can expect.”

“Well, I hope you don’t like secrets because after this you won’t have any. The first thing they work on is closing your mind off. And by closing it off, they repeatedly invade and violate all sense of personal boundaries until you learn to shut them out! It’s a horrifying ordeal but effective.” Hannah explained jovially as she counted ticks on her fingers. “Then there is telepathy at the same time and that's a trip because you just start broadcasting and picking up thoughts willy nilly. Started more than one fight that way. Good thing my vampire knows how to fight!” She sipped a bit more at the coffee and snapped her fingers.

“Next step is trapping invaders and reversing the connection. Then telekinesis and man that’ll trigger all on its own too. I personally recommend tying everything to your body. Backpack, pencils, phone... If you want to keep it nearby, tie it down.” She finished counting and flashed him a thumbs up. “And that’s all year one and two! They might mix it up here and there but they’ll work you like a dog at the beginning. And don’t worry, your instructor is legally bound to silence by the princess herself. Even if you were personally planning a rebellion against the Queen, they couldn’t say anything!” She leaned in really close and whispered, “I hear the instructors are bound by dark magic. And when I say hear, I mean I saw.” She winked.

Aaron listened intently, doing his best not to recoil in his seat. Good lord, he was used to learning things the hard way, but that sounded like an ordeal. No wonder this poor girl looked so tired. Nonetheless, it was morbidly fascinating, especially hearing that ‘closing off’ the mind was the first thing they taught. Horrifying as it sounded, was oddly comforting. After all, that was most of the reason he wanted to go into this school.

He eyed Hannah warily when she scooted closer, leaning a little away when he heard what she had to say. Alright, silence, great, but the rest sounded like something secret he definitely didn't want or need to know. She did say secrets wouldn't be a luxury of his anymore, but good lord, he didn't need to be learning about possible dark magic in Princess Ryner’s ranks today.

Yet, despite the nightmarish contents of her speech, Hannah didn't seem the least disturbed. Eventually his curiosity got the better of him. “You seem… Awfully cheerful about all that,” he stated, forcing a bit of a laugh, “How did you handle it?”

“I could tell you. Or I could…” She pointed a finger at Aaron and spoke, “Relvelo Bombardum.” Images flashed flashed through Aaron’s head almost faster than he could comprehend them. Her sobbing in front of her instructor, her doubled over with her hands over her ears, her scratching at a wall as everything went black. Aaron felt despair and hopelessness and most of all, pain. Her most sacred place being violated over and over and over again. People laughing at her thoughts and kicking her around. People disturbed as she responded instinctively to their thoughts, slowly losing the ability to discern the difference between spoken word and thoughts. A phone flickered and died, untouched and unconnected as friends stopped contacting her.

The pain eased and vanished as a hand, pale and powerful, picked him up in every memory. The lingering feeling of a kiss on the temple when everything was too loud. A strong presence when everyone else was scared. Athena beamed and the heart beat faster. Determination and pride gradually replaced the fear and the loss. Friends returned and the voices quieted. Athena danced across the arena, looking more alive than any human, and the magic in the air sang with purpose. With determination. With strength. Hannah dropped her finger and Aaron snapped back to his senses.

“A purpose.” Hannah continued sipping at her coffee. “I went in at first only wanting power. The risks intrigued me and the benefits outweighed the results at first. They warn you plenty about losing your affinity and how it could affect your life and all that. But no one warns you about the responsibility, about the loss, about the creep factor in the early days.” She laughed, but it was far from joyous. “They don’t warn you how exhausting it is to know everyone better than they know themselves. White lies are truly a blessing, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“It nearly ruined me. I wanted to die by the end of the first year but Athena wouldn’t let that happen. She picked me up over and over and over. She stood with me when no one else would. And so I decided she was why I wanted to learn. To help her for what little time I have in comparison. I wouldn’t have this power if she wasn’t here so it only seems fair to repay that.” She chuckled, this time much more nicely. She put her empty cup down on the table and let her head fall back. “So find a purpose, an anchor, anything or anybody that’ll stick with you regardless of what happens. It’ll be miserable but at least you can justify it.”

Aaron hadn't realized how hard he'd been gripping the edge of the bench cushion until he released it, the visions fading away. His first reaction was to bristle a bit at the intrusion; good lord, were all telepaths so obnoxious? Is that how he'd behave when he became one?

But he forced himself to relax, resisting the urge to glare at the girl as she spoke. Apparently it was something he’d have to get used to, and at least now it wouldn't be Lady Sinnenodel doing the digging. He gave himself pause, though, when he realized he'd been thinking of everything in certain terms: when he became a telepath, he would have to get used to it. As if the decision was made. He'd thought he was still deliberating, collecting all the advice he could before making a choice, but more and more he felt that despite every frightening thing he learned about the school of mental magic, he couldn't see himself doing anything else.

Still, he took Hannah's advice to heart. Find an anchor. Of course, his first thought was Lucan, but a hint of doubt crept in: Aaron had been elated that Lucan would be joining him at the Academy, but the vampire he considered a brother had all but disappeared without a trace on some assignment, and he had no idea when to expect a return. So who could he turn to? Hannah had her partner, but in Aaron's circumstances the very idea of such a thing seemed like a joke. He'd have to put more thought into it later.

Realizing he'd been quiet for a moment, Aaron nodded absently, eyes fixed on the table. “Do you think that's what helped you hold on to your affinity?” he asked. “Was there ever a time when you thought you'd lose it?”

“I don't know honestly. I know my grades were slipping in most classes because of the stress but I couldn't say any of my issues were because of that.” She said apologetically. “But I do honestly believe that it's because I have a purpose that I still have it. Some of the previous classes always mention feeling lost but since my decision, I've never felt that. I've never felt like I'm just going through the motions for the sake of it.”

Aaron hummed some affirmative response, looking down at his hands. He rotated his ring on his finger, watching for a moment how the light bounced off the many facets on its surface. There she was, talking about purpose again. What was his? Protecting the people close to him? That was why he’d considered mind magic in the first place, to make sure that his loved ones couldn’t be leveraged by Lady Sinnenodel. Or maybe it was to spite her; he could only imagine how satisfying it would feel to block her out, to be able to stray from Varis’ side without fear. But that seemed pretty weak for a driving force to hedge his affinity on. What else did he have?

“You’re lucky,” he murmured, almost by accident. He looked up from his ring, blinking as he turned back to her. “I mean, that’s great, that you have someone to excel for.”

Hannah gestured lazily at Aaron with a muttered “Ivderanus.” Nothing seemed to happen for a moment but she flicked absently, her eyes unfocused and distant. A warm presence, full of happy feelings and good intentions, slipped into the boy's mind.

“Wow, your life sucks doesn't it.” Disappointment underscored her words as she continued to flick. It was like she was flipping pages in a book and sometimes circled something here and there. “Jeez, who’s that? You just played with that poor girl. Too busy looking at those legs hm?” Hannah cackled but suddenly she coughed, flicked the page, and coughed again, clutching at her throat. Her eyes grew wider and wider as she struggled against something and a dark bruise started forming around her neck. The presence vanished and she gasped, suddenly able to breathe again. Hannah slowly climbed back into her seat, winded, and stared at Aaron wide eyed.

“Who the fuck has been in your head?” She wheezed, still trembling. She made a shaky gesture and the mini fridge flew open, a bottle of water soaring into her outstretched hand. “I've never even seen our instructors able to pull something like that off.”

Hannah’s incantation rubbed Aaron the wrong way, figuring she was delving into his head again. But soon he felt more comfortable with it, satisfied in the knowledge that she meant him no harm as he watched her, somewhat fascinated.

Her comments didn’t bother him, though panic overcame his calm when Aaron saw her clutching at some invisible presence around her throat, jumping up when that bruise started forming, though he didn’t know what to do. He considered running and getting help, but he was hesitant to leave her.

Mercifully, Hannah’s fit was over almost as quickly as it came, though it did little to calm Aaron as he watched her recover, wide-eyed. Only when she spoke again did he finally take his seat, feeling behind him for the bench with eyes locked on Hannah, heart still jumping in his throat.

“Are you okay?” He asked urgently, ignoring her question, “What the hell was that!?”

“A very violent block in your head.” She groaned, rubbing her throat. “Advanced mind magic can put wards against intrusions in your head, normally keyed to specific memories. They can cause psychic feedback, sometimes strong enough to knock out whoever is rooting around, but I've never even heard of one that can physically hurt someone.” A note of awe crept into her voice as she spoke. She eyed Aaron again but an excited glint replaced the panic from earlier.

“So, who was in your head? All I could get was some music, maybe a piano?” She leaned forward, practically vibrating with excitement. “It was beautiful though. I've never encountered magic with that degree of sophistication. We have to go back in. We have to see what it is. Come on, I can take both of us.”

For a moment, Aaron could only stare, looking at the girl like she had two heads. What the hell was she going on about? A piano? Lady Sinnenodel had dragged him kicking and screaming through his own memories, but nothing involving a piano. Although…

“Lady Sinnenodel was in my head,” Aaron replied, a little breathless in his lingering shock. “Why on earth would you want to repeat that?”

“Lady Sinn—” The woman launched herself at Aaron, hitting her knees and clinging to his. “I got lost in someone's head for three days just to find a spell they couldn't remember. Something like this? It's a once in a lifetime experience. I’m begging you. I think it's the most beautiful thing I've seen since I started this. I've read most of the illegal material on mind magic.” Hannah's eyes were wide, in a comical attempt at puppy dog eyes. “And I think it might actually kill me without your permission so please?!”

Aaron shifted in his seat, shying a little away from Hannah as she dropped before him. Immediately he took her shoulders, gently guiding her back up to the bench with a muttered, “Please don’t do that.”

He watched her incredulously as she continued, practically manic at the thought of diving headfirst into what he was fairly sure would be a nightmare for all involved. But as he watched her, her excitement began reminding him of when he’d first started practicing his affinity, wanting to get his hands on techniques far beyond his skill level. Besides, if this was the world he was going into, he supposed he should start getting used to it now.

He searched Hannah’s face a moment longer, hoping he would think of something to change his mind, but nothing came. “...Fine,” he conceded, inwardly groaning. “Just... please be careful.”

“Yeeees. I'll be as careful as can be!” Hannah promised cheerily. She placed her hand on Aaron's chest and pushed gently. The scene around them vanished, wisps of color fading into darkness and the forest outside Ryner's home appeared. Varis smoothed out Aaron's tie and stormed off into the darkness.

“What an asshole.” Hannah snorted. “You should deck him one day. Bet he wouldn't even see it coming! Oh but this is as far as I got before something choked me out. Mind walking us down and we'll see what happens!” Hannah clapped her hands together eagerly, watching Aaron expectantly.

Aaron blinked around at the darkness when the scene changed, surprised nothing else seemed all that different. He was standing in his same clothes, and still next to Hannah, several steps down the path from… Aaron.

He peered through the darkness at the pair down the path, watching from an outside perspective as Varis fixed his tie after having grabbed it, right after he’d given his warning. He might have rolled his eyes at Hannah’s comment had he not been so transfixed on the bizarre view of watching himself hurry into the woods at Varis’ heel.

Looking suspiciously to Hannah, he began to lead them down the path after… himself. “I could have just told you what happens next,” he informed her, a hint of sarcasm sneaking into his voice as some of the same nervousness from that night began to grip him anew.

They followed close enough behind to keep his other self and Varis in view, though that meant they couldn’t stray too far, lest the darkness swallow them. In fact, the trees on either side of the path were shrouded in it, an inky, featureless blackness that clashed with the slightly more illuminated path. Every now and then, though, a small patch of the forest to one side or another was a little more detailed; after watching his other self for a moment, Aaron realized that those detailed parts only appeared where he saw himself glancing. Apparently he hadn’t looked at the rest, having been wrapped up in his own nerves, so their features were missing from the memory.

Soon enough, the forest lightened and Aaron could see Ryner’s gate up ahead, the path of her drive extending beyond it.

As the pair approached the houses, Hannah gripped her head for a moment and Aaron could feel something tighten on his chest, the faintest outline of a hand gripping his shirt visible against the darkness. The familiar scene of the manor vanished and instead sunlight poured through the trees onto a manor covered artfully in vines and rose bushes. The fountain still ran, looking brand new, and the driveway was only partially completed. The faint sound of a piano playing caught their ear, seeming to echo across the scene, but no one could be seen.

“Wow.” Hannah's words seemed breathless as she reached her hand out. She plucked at the air and a thin golden line appeared in her fingers, humming along with the piano. It sparked and vanished. “A crash course on memory blocks and improvised memories: Like cloth, fake memories are made of “threads”, bits and pieces of magic woven with emotions and sensory images and put together to make an image. Threads take on different colors based on how real a memory is. Real measures how much true memory is woven into it rather than magic or fragments. Our books say gold is impossible because it's pure magic, there is no part of real memory woven into it, and so it falls apart. But this,” Hannah spread her arms and laughed. “This makes me think we don't know anything. Well, let's go see what this is all about! Have you ever seen this building?”

Aaron was staring wide-eyed at the scene before them until Hannah started to speak, explaining the origin of what he was about to say; that this was not his memory. However, rather than being as terrified as he should have been that a false memory was in his head, what Hannah said about real memories and impossible threads, sounding giddy all the while, made him feel more inquisitive than afraid.

At her question, he turned back to the manor, examining it closely. “It looks like… Princess Ryner’s manor…” He spoke slowly, combing through his memory. He remembered from his schooling that the manor was built ages ago, almost a millennium, and the rose bushes creeping along the outside confirmed for him that it was indeed hers. But the fountain was new…

“Wow,” he breathed, eyes widening as he let his shoulders fall. “This is her manor right after the Treaty was signed.” He looked to Hannah, and this time, it was his turn to get excited. He pointed to the fountain. “That was installed at my grandfather’s recommendation, it’s a defense measure. She had a few water mages with her at the time.”

Looking back at the manor, it was hard to tear his eyes away. “This happened within my grandfather’s lifetime,” he remarked, a little stunned. He ran a hand through his hair, gaping at the sight.

“Well, that shouldn't be right. Golden threads mean nothing should be based in reality.” Hannah walked forward, periodically plucking at a thread and tsking at the gold colors, until she raised her hand and pounded against the memory. Threads rippled for a just a moment, gold rushing off into the distance, but a pattern was clearly visible. The threads wove together in interlocking diamonds and in each one, a black eye hovered. Hannah watched, her excitement shifting into caution.

“Black normally only shows up in those suffering enthrallment.” She muttered. “But you don't have any of the other hallmarks. So why are there black threads in gold threads where neither mean what they should? This is…”

Hannah stopped suddenly as man rounded the corner, arguing with himself as he tossed a ball of fire between his hands. A younger Landar Starag, looking no older than Aaron, approached the pair and sat on the edge of the fountain. The piano in the background flowed from one song to the next. Landar's fire went out and he looked up abruptly, eyes fixed on Hannah. He stood, scowling, and suddenly his skin cracked and shattered like porcelain. It shifted and changed, moving around until the man looked older, wiser, with no hint of a smile and he lunged at Hannah and wrapped his hands around her throat once more.

Aaron all but jumped back from the lattice of black and gold, moved to deep unrest that something so disturbing was lurking in his mind. His mind. But none of it, none of it lingered in his thoughts for long when he spotted a man rounding the corner. A young, blond, blue-eyed man, playing with fire.

Aaron actually gasped, one hand coming up to his mouth as he looked on, transfixed. That was him. That was him. He was younger than he should have been, but it was unmistakably him. The man Aaron had spent his life looking up to in portraits, right there.

Crackling into pieces, and lunging at Hannah.

Coming to his senses with the sudden attack, Aaron reacted, lunging forward himself. He almost hesitated, confronted with the face that hung all over the walls of his home, but not for long. It wasn’t real, it was a false memory, but he knew the danger to Hannah wasn’t.

Wedging himself between the two, Aaron tried to wrench Landar’s arms away, but the second he touched the man, he exploded into— ravens?

Aaron threw his arms up instinctively as a raven flew at him, a few others flying out from where Landar had been. On the ground, several snakes slithered off of a pile of apples, over their feet and away into the grass.

Aaron could only stare at the apples for a second, breathing heavily. A rushing sound caught his attention, and he looked up to see the fountain running, spouting sand instead of water. He gaped for a second, before looking back to Hannah.

“What the hell is this?” he pressed darkly.

“Confirmation.” She wheezed but reverence seeped through as she fell to her knees. “The original vampires and their close descendants had power magic only dreamed of. I read in one of the restricted books that mind magic was created to counter one of the originals’ power but they didn't have a source. But the threads, the lattice, the literal noble seals— This is a—” Hannah's face went slack and she vanished, turning into wisps of dark smoke. Aaron felt something lift off his chest as she did but the scene around him remained unchanged.

“Just like Landar.” A voice, deep and smooth, rolled out of the mouth of a snake nearby. “Always getting in trouble without me watching. You're early, boy. And I bothered to give you my protection. Tsk, tsk, tsk.” As it spoke, the voice climbed an octave slowly. It stirred something in Aaron's head but the feeling wouldn't click. “Since this will fade once you leave, you may as well take advantage child. Ask one question before the sand engulfs you.” Sand rapidly poured over the edge of the fountain but the music started up again, this tune bringing back the image of a strange place with blank sarcophagi.

On instinct, Aaron grasped at the smoke where Hannah had vanished, panic rising in his chest when the memory didn’t disappear with her. But before he could wonder if this had all been a very long fever dream after the Revel or something, a voice turned his head, a snake as its source. An adder.

There was no time to be confused over its words or the strange pitch of its voice before the scene changed again, piano music filling his ears and sand flooding the floor between rows of sarcophagi. Fourteen, to be exact. But he hadn’t counted.

It was more than deja vu that struck Aaron as sand pooled around his legs; no, he knew he’d been here before, and he knew exactly when. But this had taken him out of a nightmare last time, not played a part in it. So what was so different now?

There was certainly more than one question swirling in his head, but Aaron was biting down panic as the sand reached his waist, trying and failing to move his legs. There was no time. So he did all he could do, grasping at the question which had been gnawing at him since they entered the false memory.

“That was just going to be a normal memory,” he snapped at the snake, eyes burning as the sand approached his chest. “So what the hell was in there that’s so important it needs to be protected like this?”

With his question, the sand shimmered before exploding into thousands of glowing butterflies against a dark room. Muffled shouts of celebration rang from beneath the floorboards and the smell of stale ale and sweat permeated the air. A candle lit, followed by the rest, and the room glowed orange. Only a mirror sat in the middle, covered with a dusty cloth.

“There lies your answer. Look if you dare.” The voice whispered in his ear. A gloved hand hung off Aaron's right shoulder and a sudden weight along hung back suggested an arm may be there as well.

“I do love mindscapes. I can be tall in them.” The voice sighed dreamily. “Being short was always a pain. You're lucky you know.”

Aaron peered around through the dim light, eyes landing on the mirror in the centre of the room. He started a bit, shifting instinctively, when he felt a weight across his shoulders, that eerily familiar voice in his left ear.

Rather than make a beeline for the mirror, Aaron stepped out from under the arm, turning to face the owner of the voice. He was confronted with a figure about his height, but bulkier; upon closer inspection, it was clad in leather armour, candlelight bouncing off the familiar dark slick of blood. Under a mop of unruly red hair was a face—no, a mask—that Aaron recognized. One of Lucan’s distant relatives, she’d died in battle defending Princess Nox.

Narrowing his eyes at the figure, Aaron spoke more coolly than he might have expected from himself. “Greta Bordeleaux wore obsidian plate, not leather,” he stated, examining the figure.

“All work and no play makes Aaron a dull boy.” The figure sang with a laugh. “Very well, very well. Maybe you'll like something a bit more masculine.” The mask contorted and shifted, Greta's face melting off like wax. A new face pushed out of the blank space; Donovan Astorio sneered down at Aaron. The vampire was executed for nearly throwing the realm into civil war three hundred years ago. “Are we going to stand here all day and play games to amuse you or would you like your prize? After all, the longer you stay in here, the more worried your little friend gets.”

“Aaron? Aaron? Wake up!” Hannah's voice, desperate and frantic, rang through the room before more celebratory noise replaced it. The figure slipped over to the mirror and grabbed the cloth, ready for a dramatic unveiling.

“Of course if you're scared, that door behind you will wake you up just the same. But how disappointed would your dear grandpappy Landar be?” The figure taunted Aaron.

Aaron lifted his head at the sound of Hannah’s voice, though despite her frantic tone, he held firm, an eerie calm setting in. “She’ll be fine,” he replied coldly, eyeing the figure as it moved to the mirror. “This is all in my head, after all.”

His gaze didn’t waver as the figure mocked him, his eyes trained on the mask of Donovan Astorio. Its offer was tempting, but something in the back of his mind was still gnawing at him as he approached, stopping him from reaching out.

“You seem awfully fond of the dead,” he remarked, crossing his arms and coming to a halt in front of the covered mirror. “Is that why you like to taunt the living?”

“Dead? They never lived.” The figure chuckled. “Better yet, they never existed. They were only roles written in a game far older than civilization as you know it. And there are many more where they came from, surrounding you and your kind. Far too many for my liking.”

“But,” the figure sighed as he leaned against the mirror, “I do envy you. Enjoying the breeze on your skin, the moonlight on the water, the touch of a lover. All things I am destined to be without for far too long. But we do crazy things for vengeance don't we.” The room dimmed, the edges fuzzing. “Seems like you've nearly ruined your memory of me. Quickly, make your choice or you may not get back at all.”

Aaron stared at the figure, listening not to his words, but to his voice. His words were mostly gibberish to Aaron anyway; it was the voice he’d been trying to hear. The pitch, the cadence, it was all so familiar but for the tone. But Aaron had achieved his goal, it seemed, and gotten the figure talking long enough for it to finally click in his brain who it was.

Except it was Varis.

A familiar spike of fear shot up through Aaron, and he stepped back at the realization, mind buzzing. The room was growing dim, and he was growing panicked, his former calm having burned away. He was done with this. He had to get out. But he’d come in for a reason, and like hell he’d be leaving without his answer. Urgently, he grabbed the cloth and tore it from the mirror, casting it aside.

He got barely a glimpse of himself in the mirror, Dawn shining at his side, before everything went dark.

“Ah!”

Aaron shot upright, inadvertently banging his head into something before he even managed to open his eyes. When he did, he was greeted by sunlight, golden sand, and Hannah, who had apparently been sitting too close and whose head had been the victim of his collision. Leaning forward, he squeezed his eyes shut, groaning quietly and massaging the sore spot on his forehead.

Hannah recoiled when they collided, her back hitting the table with a loud thud. She groaned as she rubbed her forehead and stumbled into her seat. It took her a moment to collect herself.

“What a reaction to a little mind reading.” She grumbled. “If you want to make it through mind classes, you'll have to get over this passing out defense mechanism. I know we're all a little squeamish at first but wow, you are extra aren't you?”

Aaron glared sideways at Hannah, not sure whether to be angry or confused. “What are you talking about?” He demanded, justifiably a little curt. “You saw that, didn’t you?”

“Saw what, a life of boring imprisonment and letting a fight go on so you could ogle a girl for the first time? Yes, I did.” Hannah looked confused and concerned. “Look, I'm sorry I did that without permission but you gotta get used to it or get real good at making excuses. The hive is gonna want to connect or Dennis is going to cry and you'll make us all angry and it's just going to be a bad time.”

Aaron stared at Hannah with that same combination of confusion and irritation, slowly straightening as she spoke. He didn't know what to address first: that little jab at his upbringing, whatever the ‘hive’ was, whoever Dennis was or why Hannah was acting like they hadn't just stumbled on something terrifying and incredible in his head.

“I gave you permission,” Aaron began, moving up to the bench without breaking his gaze, “We both went in, remember? We— I— Hannah, you were strangled twice!” Aaron took out his phone and held it out so that Hannah could see her reflection in the screen, his own eyes locked on the dark bruise around her neck, a confirmation that he wasn't the crazy one.

“That's from a nasty evocation spell gone wrong, Aaron.” Hannah spoke carefully, taking a few steps backwards. “I never asked your permission to enter you mind. I was just trying to help you find some sort of purpose and then next thing I know you passed out. If you'd been under any longer, I was going to call for help.” She eyed him like a feral animal, keeping her distance.

“Are you sure you're okay. Maybe you should pick a different arcane major? You seem a little… unprepared,” Hannah suggested. Her hand lingered on the table as she sat back on a bench.

Aaron resisted the urge to throw up his hands and look to the sky for answers, instead pocketing his phone. “Well, ‘okay’ is a relative term but yes, I think I'm okay,” he conceded with a slight huff. He looked at Hannah suspiciously.

“Just to be clear,” he asked, “gold threads, black eyes, an apparently impossible false memory; none of that is ringing any bells?”

“I mean, minus the black eyes yeah? I'm glad you've done some reading ahead but you don't need to know that for at least a semester.” Hannah sounded genuinely confused. “What are these black eyes?”

“‘Signs of enthrallment’?” Aaron replied indignantly, “Except I'm not enthralled? Nothing?”

“I wish I knew another language so I could tell you ‘no’ in that one too. Is this some weird way of asking me to get in your head because I'm not sure that's such a great idea right now. You know, with the hallucinating and shit.” The woman snapped, crossing her arms. “Maybe you should get evaluated before joining. You've obviously got some shit going on in there.”

“Well I'm obviously going to get evaluated, it's required,” Aaron snapped back, before exhaling heavily and leaning back, rubbing his eyes. Why was he bothering? Something obviously happened in there to wipe her memory, or… something.

“Sorry, I guess I respond poorly to mind reading,” he sighed, figuring it was best not to anger the girl who could be helping him and resolving to look into it on his own. “Anyway, what's the hive? Who’s Dennis?”

“Okay then.” Hannah settled down, drinking her water. She still seemed unconvinced. “The hive is just all the students in the program. Once we've controlled our telepathy, we all just sort of link up. It's incredibly useful, cheating is ridiculously easy but you lose most of your privacy to the hive.” She shrugged at the mention. “I remember Dennis tried to ask this girl out and half of us were whispering pick up lines and the other half of us were trying to shut them up. He did not get the date let's just say.” Hannah chuckled fondly. “Dennis is a junior in the program. He's a bit insecure and cries really easy so he's the baby of the group and the hive is incredibly protective of him. If someone upsets him, we all flood the person's mind with nightmares for months. No one hurts Dennis.”

Aaron quirked a brow, examining Hannah questioningly. Truth be told, that all sounded like a nightmare, not to mention it seemed like they were awfully mean to this ‘Dennis’ despite apparently wanting to protect him. But he supposed that was none of his business; not until they wanted him to wire into the ‘hive’, anyway.

“Ah,” was his reply as he finally tore his eyes away, staring down at the table as he prodded gingerly at the lump forming on his forehead. He was quiet for a second, wanting to interrogate Hannah further, but he was fairly sure he wouldn't get anything out of her. It really seemed like she forgot everything, all they'd seen having been pasted over somehow with mundane excuses.

“Is there anything else you think I should know?” He finally asked, looking over. “Anything you wish you knew before you started all this?”

“Hm, yes actually. Always bring a box of tissues to defensive practices. And new contacts if you wear them. And lots and lots of water. You're going to be bawling through every lesson for the first year.” Hannah cringed. “Other than that, make sure you have a direction and meaning for going into this. It isn't for the faint of heart and it'll chew you up and spit you out.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Aaron replied absently and nodded, standing and holding out a hand. “You’ve been very helpful, thank you. Would it be alright if I contacted you again?”

“Of course! Here, give me your phone so I can put my number in it.” Hannah held her hand out.

Aaron nodded, pulling up a blank contact on his phone before handing it over. “Thanks, I'm sure I'll be using it.”

She typed out her contact, chuckling at something, and tossed it back to him. Her own phone lit up, Janelle Moane's “Screwed” blasting at full volume. “Wow where did the time go? I have to jet, sorry. Athena's got a match soon and I hate missing them. Send me a text so I have your number!” She waved and bolted towards the door, leaving a wake of swear words behind her.

“She's funny.” The figure's voice, though distant and weak, tickled Aaron’s ear. “I wonder why she hid her mouth though.” And, like a veil being torn away, Aaron's memory shifted. Every image of Hannah changed and two of her overlapped perfectly. Neither image made sound even though her voice was clearly heard but only the top image's mouth moved.

Aaron whipped around at the voice, though all he saw was Hannah, seeing double, but not quite the same. Any former caution or composure was long gone, the man practically snarling at the voice and the vision.

“What is this!?” Aaron shouted, trying to back away from the images. “Who are you!?”

But of course, there was no answer. Instead, the voice went silent and the visions faded away, leaving him alone. Aaron simply stood there for a moment, breathing heavily and wanting to scream. Soon, though, the room felt cold and unsafe, the sunny warmth and gentle crashing of waves doing nothing to comfort him. So he simply stalked away, looking over his shoulder and lost in his head.

10/21: Aaron & Princess Ryner

Ryner's Opinion

Making an appointment with Princess Ryner normally involved struggling to find an opening in the royal figure’s schedule and then getting rescheduled for important matters of state only to be pulled from a class during the night as Ryner forced her schedule open when she found out someone pushed aside a precious student. In recent years, Ryner created a special office hour period. This hour and a half block was dedicated to only students immediately after dawn, a time most sane vampires would be sleeping and unable to call on the Princess for anything less than the most dire circumstances.

The walk to Ryner’s manor was much more peaceful than the last time. Early light drizzled through the forest canopy, catching the morning dew. Bird calls and the chitter of insects permeated the air, a slight breeze whispered through the leaves, and a few deer grazed in the distance. Even still, Aaron was cautious, the memory of his ordeal with Hannah still fresh in his mind. Oddly enough, though he normally appreciated a chance to be out after sunrise, the sunlight on Ryner’s manor as he approached made him ill at ease, reminding him of the false memory he’d been replaying in his mind ever since that meeting. He even went so far as to keep his hand on Dawn’s handle as he approached, though his worries were unfounded, the walk to the manor altogether uneventful but for his own nerves.

Ryner’s manor practically glowed in the morning sun, light glittering off the quiet fountain and the dew on the roses around the building. The door opened to a young man bowing as the light mage approached, silently taking him through the manor to Ryner’s study. Two sharp knocks and a bow to him later, the man disappeared down the hall as Ryner called out, “Enter!”

Aaron did his best to swallow the flicker of jealousy he felt at the sight of the servant, his gaze lingering on the man a touch longer than necessary as he took his leave. Before he opened the door, he took a breath to clear his head, unnecessarily straightening his tie. Thinking like that was ungrateful and unproductive, and in any case, it would only serve to drive him crazy.

Ryner sat on her desk, still dressed in her riding outfit and her hair tied up tightly in a bun. A glass of blood swirled slowly in her hand and she read from a book titled “Ancient Beliefs: Religion and Death.” Two comfortable leather chairs faced her and a colorful rug covered the hardwood floor. Bookshelves lined the walls, holding both books and artifacts in glass casings. A painting of the sunrise over a foggy lake hung over her desk. She looked up as Aaron entered and a fond smile spread across her face, placing down both the book and the glass in favor of walking to him and wrapping him up in a warm hug.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes? Even if you were just at the castle for the break, I swear you grow a little more each time. I’m surprised you didn’t put on more weight while you were at the castle by what your mother said she planned to feed you!” She exclaimed, beaming as she kept hold of his shoulders and checked him over. “Enough of my worrying, sit down. It’s well past your time to turn in. You must be tired.” She returned to her chair behind her desk, taking another sip of blood in the process. “Now, what can I do for my favorite light mage this morning?”

Aaron barely had the chance to get his customary bow out of the way before Ryner approached him, though her hug and her kind words did manage to earn her a bashful smile, however bittersweet. Ever since he was a child, she’d been a calming presence, some of his tension relaxing even now. He shrugged off her comment about the hour, hoping that it would be excuse enough for the circles under his eyes that he wouldn’t have to admit he hadn’t had a full day’s sleep since his meeting with Hannah.

Taking Ryner’s cue to sit, Aaron pulled a little at his sleeves, taking a second to anchor himself and put his thoughts in order. It was reassuring to have been able to dress properly this time; while his suit and tie - one of the few in his new wardrobe - were a different style than he was used to, they were still more of a familiar feature than the more casual clothes Varis insisted on putting him in. The silver earring swinging from his right ear he could probably have done without, but at least his disdain for the thing had mostly faded.

Not wanting to waste any more of the Princess’ time than was necessary, Aaron forced himself to speak, neatly shelving his growing self-consciousness about the meeting behind his practiced court smile. “Well, Your Highness, to put it briefly, I’ve all but decided to go into Mind magic as an arcane focus, and my guidance counselor told me I had to submit a plan for… coping.” He did his best to act nonchalantly, but the nature of his request was gnawing at him, making him a little hesitant. “He recommended I find someone I could trust to help me make one, and with Sir Bordeleaux occupied, I thought of you.”

Though he maintained his outward calm, on the inside Aaron practically groaned. Good lord, he felt ridiculous even just saying it. Taking up the Princess’ valuable time for a personal matter felt distinctly improper (not to mention that this was the second time he’d done it), Aaron being sure that she had far better things to do. It just killed him that what he said was true; with Lucan away on assignment (and apparently with hands full enough that he couldn’t even answer a letter), he really didn’t have anyone else to turn to, and he’d never be accepted into the program if he didn’t make a plan.

“Aaron, I’ve known you since you were a babe. I’m more than happy to help you but I’ll need more than your pleasant smile.” Ryner sent him an amused look. “Part of what you’ll have to learn on this path is emotional honesty. You’ll be exploring the deepest recesses of your mind and while I have no doubt you are capable of such a venture, hiding or ignoring how you’re feeling behind your court manner will only hold you back at best. You’re safe in here, with me. Anything you say or do stays with me.”

“Now, what have you considered so far? Activities similar to your sessions with Sir Bordeleaux should be avoided. As calming as exhaustion is, it is bad for a struggling mind.” Ryner sipped more at her glass as she relaxed into her chair. She watched Aaron for a moment, seeming lost in thought. “Music is always a good outlet. Have you kept up with your practice? Playing some simpler pieces with a friend or two can be one option.”

Aaron nodded, ears beginning to burn at the Princess’ gentle reprimand. She saw right through him; he should have expected it, but he’d always found ‘emotional honesty’ to be a challenge. It was much easier to shelve things away to be more or less dealt with later than to wear his struggles on his sleeve. But she was right, he needed to learn and he might as well start now. A little reluctantly, he finally let his mask fall away to reveal an exhausted and embarrassed young man, uncertain and seeking guidance.

Sighing, he shifted in his seat, running a hand over his jaw at the mention of training. “My counselor said the same thing, though I can’t say I’m very happy about it,” he replied, running his fingers thoughtfully over the scar on his ear. “In the past, when I couldn’t train, I didn’t really know what to do with myself.”

At the mention of music, Aaron nodded again, remembering something. “Of course. I did mention that to my counselor, but I’m not sure if that will be enough.” He dropped his hand, letting it fall on the arm of the chair as his expression grew somber, eyes unfocused and aimed somewhere on Ryner’s desk.

“When Sir Bordeleaux found out that Mom was sick, he had me doing a lot more music than training, but I was still going a little crazy worrying,” he admitted, fingers finding their way back to his ring. There was a brief pause before he took a breath, perking himself up a little. “I’d still like to at least incorporate music, though I don’t really know anyone here who plays. I suppose I’ll have to find some new ensemble partners.” Moon only knew how he’d go about that; most of the campus gave him a wide berth already.

As Aaron spoke, something flickered behind Ryner’s eyes and she grinned, throwing open drawer after drawer, rummaging through them, and giving a quiet huff as she couldn’t find what she was looking for. She moved to the bookshelves, pulling out a few of the glass cases and huffing again when she didn’t find it.

“You always were an active child.” Ryner laughed as she continued to look for whatever it was. “Always a fidgety little thing. It was absolutely adorable honestly but it would be remiss of us not to consider that for this. So instead of beating yourself half to death and scurrying away to a life mage we can always…” She pulled a case of the opposite shelf with a quiet “Aha!” and pulled out an old MP3 player.

“I knew I kept it stashed around here.” Ryner beamed as she returned to the desk and pulled out an old mp3 dock. “I haven’t quite had the time to update my things. I’m afraid they’ll confuse me as much as phones confuse my mother so I stick with the old technology.” She fiddled with it for a while and finally got everything plugged in properly. She tapped a few buttons on the player and music played softly, a familiar cello standing out against the rest of the ensemble.

“I remember when you played this at court. Just after your awakening, you were so relieved I just had to have it recorded.” Ryner reminisced with a fond smile. She held her hand out to him from the middle of the room. “Come, dance with me. A simple waltz always helps me clear my head after a rough day at Council.”

Aaron watched curiously as Ryner searched around her office, eyebrows shooting up when she produced a sort of MP3 player he hadn’t seen since he was a child and started playing a familiar tune. It took a second for him to recognize it, but it clicked in his head what it was from just before Ryner herself mentioned it. He had to take a breath to steady himself as emotion welled up in him, both from the memory of that night and how ecstatic he’d been and from the encouraging, humbling thought that the Princess had thought that moment important enough to record.

“I remember,” Aaron stated absently, rising from his chair at Ryner’s request. He took her hand, placing his other one appropriately on her waist as he moved effortlessly into a start position. “I didn’t know anyone had recorded it,” he remarked, listening carefully and stepping into a waltz when the music was right.

He’d played the piece almost exactly three years ago, but he was astounded by how clearly he remembered it. He could pick out his part with no trouble, mentally going through the motions of that particular piece, remembering the positions of the notes on the page and where he’d marked in his cues and corrections. He didn’t usually record himself, so hearing his own music played back was strange; he could predict which notes would be emphasized, stretched or condensed because it was him playing, his style immediately apparent to his own practiced ear. It wasn’t just the music he remembered, either; he also remembered the hall he’d been playing in, the other people in the ensemble, even the way the light glinted off a scratch on his stand. He remembered getting a little giddy every time he saw it, still riding the high from his Awakening. He’d been grateful for the relative simplicity of the piece, because his mind had been elsewhere, hands working on muscle memory as his mind raced with excitement. Even now, he couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“There he is! I knew I’d find you eventually.” Ryner chuckled as she followed Aaron’s lead. “Of course I recorded it. I have all of your performances recorded. I’ve saved as many of you and your family’s moments as I could get away with. Your mother has most of them. Duty too often gets in the way of your moments so I keep them just in case.” The little bit of tension set in her faded away as she flowed into the familiar steps and hummed along with the music. She closed her eyes, fully comfortable with Aaron’s lead.

“Mental magic, hm?” Ryner mused. She spoke softly, just loud enough for Aaron to hear but without speaking over the music. “That is quite the choice. I’m not sure anyone in your family has attempted to learn it. With how giddy you were after your Awakening, I’m surprised you’re willing to take the risk. I take it you’ve done your research? Talk me through your process.”

Aaron was touched by the thought of Princess Ryner holding on to moments from his and his family’s lives, his smile warming even as Ryner closed her eyes. But it faltered a touch when she asked about his decision, and he was tempted to put his walls up again, the topic bringing with it a spark of now-familiar anxiety. But he had taken the Princess’ advice to heart, and he figured he owed it to her to be honest, so he would do his best.

“Truthfully, I never thought it was something I would pursue,” he explained, paying almost no mind to the steps of the waltz as he navigated the pair of them away from Ryner’s desk. “I’d be devastated to lose my affinity, and I’ve been trying to talk myself out of it for weeks, but I can’t shake this feeling that it’s something I have to do.”

“Does this have anything to do with the dinner?” Guilt crept into her voice at the mention of it. “I know I apologized over the break but I’m sure I can’t apologize enough. I should have known the Lady would have taken advantage of your aunt. In case you haven't managed contact with her yet, she made a full recovery from that night despite a shaky month.” Ryner sighed, the days spent pacing outside the woman’s bedroom after the event still clear in her mind. “Is that why you plan to enter the program? Defending yourself?”

Aaron nodded, taking a breath to try and stretch out the growing tension in his chest. “All I did was step away and she got into my head and saw everything. I know I shouldn’t have moved, but with Aunt Dora screaming like that, I didn’t even think.” He looked off to the side with a slight huff, clearly irritated with himself, before returning his attention to the Princess. “And now anyone I’ve ever met could be under her microscope. I know it's too late for me but if I can help it, I'd like to keep the people I care about far out of her reach.”

It felt strange to talk so freely about his Lady, especially considering that he was fairly sure saying the same to anyone else would probably have disastrous consequences. But despite the worry nagging at the back of his mind, it felt good to get it off of his chest. “Trust me, if it were just myself at stake I probably wouldn't risk it, but with Master’s position I can only assume I'll be seeing more of her, and I can't justify putting other people at risk just because I’m afraid.”

“Under a microscope? Who thinks Lady… Varis.” Ryner opened her eyes long enough to roll them. “I assure you, the world's second most premier drama king drastically threw this out of proportion. Lady Sinnenodel has more pressing concerns than evaluating a single mage's life. However, taking the risk for your loved ones is commendable. It's one of the many things that make you shine.” Ryner's grip on him tightened and she brought their dance to a halt.

“But never forget that you, your feelings and your instincts, matter. You cannot sacrifice what's important to you for other people. You are strong, so so strong Aaron, but you will not come out the same if you walk into this with only that.” Ryner's eyes were full of care and warmth and concern as she kept eye contact with Aaron. “You need more to make it through this, Aaron. I would be devastated if anything happened to you. I should set up a meeting between you and one of our current students to help give you some direction on that.”

That was exactly what Aaron had been thinking, that Lady Sinnenodel wouldn't possibly care enough to bother with anything she found in his head, but he still couldn't shake his worry. Besides, he'd be lying if he said his reasoning was entirely altruistic. He was not a fan of her or anyone picking his mind apart. The irony was not lost on him, of course, being that he'd have his mind combed through repeatedly throughout his training, but the idea that he could protect himself by the end of it was tempting nonetheless.

He stopped when Ryner halted him, heart swelling at her words. Again he had to take a breath to quell the emotion rising in him; it was amazing how profoundly her kindness affected him. In the back of his mind, he realized he'd been almost craving it, the Princess giving him the sort of guidance and understanding he'd been pining for ever since he joined Varis.

He was grateful for the change of topic when it came, rapidly blinking a few times and clearing his throat. “Actually, I’ve already met with someone. Her name was Hannah, I think she was in second year. Do you know her?”

“Yes, I do. She has quite the appetite for magic.” Ryner said thoughtfully, starting the waltz again as the music looped. “She came to me personally for access to our restricted texts on the subject matter. How did your discussion go?”

Aaron picked back up when Ryner did, though he looked away when he spoke. “It was… definitely productive,” he replied, a little uneasy. For a moment that was all he offered, dancing a little stiffly as he wrestled with himself. But he realized he’d put up his walls again, and resolved to open back up, making himself relax with a long breath as he closed his eyes.

“I suppose there’s more than one reason I want to go into this school,” he admitted, keeping one ear on the music to ground himself and opting to explain from the beginning. “Hannah and I spoke for a little while, and she was very helpful, explained what I would go through during each stage of my training and how she coped. She said I needed a ‘purpose’, something or someone to do it all for when I couldn’t do it for myself. She has her partner, but I can’t help but think that may not work in my case.” He gave a ghost of a knowing smirk before growing serious again.

“Anyway, she tried rifling through my memories to help me find mine, but when she did, something… stopped her.” He stopped then too, drawing back a bit. One hand found its way to his throat, absently rubbing it as he collected himself. “I don’t know what she did to me, but when Lady Sinnenodel went into my mind… I think she might have left something behind.”

Ryner paused at the comment but continued dancing, concern evident on her face. “First and foremost, are you okay? Did it hurt you? Do I need to call a medic?”

Aaron shook his head, returning his hand to Ryner’s waist and continuing the dance. “No, it didn’t hurt me,” he corrected, “I don’t think it did anyway. But it hurt her.” A certain urgency crept into his voice, and he looked Ryner in the eye, something he would never otherwise do, to convey the gravity of the matter. “When she got to a certain point in my memories, something started to strangle her. I saw it, I watched her choke, I saw the bruise it left. It wasn’t just in her head or mine, it was physical. She said it was some kind of memory block, like she’d never even heard of before, and insisted I let her investigate.” He tore his eyes away, heaving a sigh. “I don’t know, maybe I should have refused, or gone to one of the instructors for help instead of letting her do it, but I did let her do it, and I do not like what we found.”

“Something in your memory choked her in the physical world?” Ryner stopped them, disengaging from the dance entirely, and stopped the music. “And you think Lady Sinnenodel put it there? Tell me exactly what happened from start to finish.” Ryner sat behind her desk, a pad and pen quickly in front of her.

“Yes!” Aaron exclaimed, admittedly surprised that Ryner believed him. After Hannah seemed to forget everything, he’d been growing more and more concerned that he was just crazy. He followed her to the desk, sitting in his former chair and perching his elbows on his knees. “Hannah was actually excited about it. She practically begged me to let her go back in, and she only even asked my permission because she thought whatever it was might kill her if she went in without my consent. So I agreed, and she did… something, and suddenly we were at the edge of the forest on the night of the dinner, watching Master and me from a few steps behind.”

He told her the story in the order it happened, giving her as much detail as he could remember; which was quite a bit, considering he’d been running over the events of their ordeal over and over ever since it happened. The words practically fell out of his mouth, Aaron surprising himself at how eagerly he told the story; apparently it had been swirling around in his head so much he’d been dying to get it all out. He told her about the false memory, the threads and the eyes, seeing his grandfather and her manor from hundreds of years back, and everything else, all the way through his encounter with that strange figure and the mirror, to when he finally woke up.

“... but Hannah insisted that I’d passed out from a routine mind-reading, and that the bruise around her neck was from an evocation spell gone wrong. No matter what I said, she just looked at me like I had two heads and essentially told me I was crazy.” He leaned back in his seat, his exhaustion apparent as he slumped into the leather, leaning his temple on his hand. “Then when she left, that voice - Master’s voice, I swear it - came back, saying…” he paused a second to remember the exact words, looking up at the ceiling, “... ‘She’s funny, I wonder why she hid her mouth though’.”

He rubbed his temple, closing his eyes. “But I don’t know what that means. And suddenly all my memories of her were replaced, or altered, or something, by this odd… overlap? Of two of her? Like seeing double, but not quite. Only one of her moved her mouth, but it was like her voice was coming from somewhere else.”

He let his head fall back on the chair, rubbing his face and heaving a sigh. “I was very stressed by this point so I yelled at it, asking what this was and who it was, but it was gone.” He lifted his head back up to look at Ryner, the circles under his eyes evident. “I don’t think I’ve had a day’s sleep since, I just keep going over and over it all in my mind. It feels like there’s something foreign and malevolent hiding in my head, and honestly, it's really disturbing.”

Ryner wrote as fast as Aaron spoke, pages flipping rapidly and another note pad slipping out from her desk. The longer he spoke, the more anger replaced the concern on her face. When he finished, she sat back and her face went blank as she thought. It was silent for a long while as she flipped back through the notepads.

“Thank you for bringing this to me.” Ryner broke the silence, her face softening once again. “I can only imagine how unsettling that experience must have been. That being said, I don't believe this… event will occur again. Given the identities it chose and the scene with Landar, I believe I know what happened and if that is the case, you are in no danger. If you are feeling up to it, I would like our instructors to confirm my suspicions and then compare it to Hannah's memory of your time together. I would rather know you are no longer in danger before we start a full investigation these events."

Aaron nodded eagerly. “Yes, anything that will help, I'll do it,” he insisted, relief crashing over him. What happened to him was real, he wasn't blowing it out of proportion, whatever it was was real and not just an overreaction on his part. “I'm honestly just glad to hear I'm not just crazy. I was beginning to worry.”

He was quiet for a moment, considering whether his next question was valid, but decided to come out with it. Ryner wanted honesty, and he would be remiss if he wasted his chance to speak openly. “May I ask the purpose of an investigation? Whatever happened to me, is it a crime? Are you at liberty to tell me any more about what it was?”

“It is not what happened but rather who happened.” Ryner spoke carefully. “Somehow someone discovered information restricted to the royal family and passed it into you undetected, or that was an impression of the man responsible for all those events. Either option is a grave security threat to the realm and we must move quickly before whoever is behind this realizes their impression has been triggered. As such, the evaluation will occur as quickly as our mages can arrive.” Ryner pulled out a flip phone and made a quick call, orders phrased politely but with a firmness that demanded immediate action. Once she hung up, she relaxed a little and fondness filled her face as she looked at Aaron.

“You did nothing wrong and my first priority is making sure you are safe so don't worry about this. I expect your part in this to end before you return to your dorm this morning.” Ryner changed the track on the mp3 player, a piano and a cello playing softly through the speaker.

Aaron nodded slowly, a little surprised that he was being evaluated so soon, but understanding the urgency. But ultimately, Ryner’s explanation provided more questions than answers.

“So you don’t think my Lady is to blame for this?” he asked, knowing it was possible he wouldn’t get an answer. “Or did she put something in there and then someone else blocked it off? Or something else entirely?” Confusion was evident in his voice, as well as a prick of apprehension. He wasn’t a fan of where his reasoning was headed. “Is it possible for someone to have invaded my mind without my knowledge? With my Lady and Hannah, it was at least noticeable...” He trailed off, sinking into thought, eyes unfocused and searching.

“Wait,” he added suddenly, snapping back to focus. “Your Highness, you said I’m no longer in danger. Was I in danger before?”

“Anyone in the general vicinity of that person is in danger but yes, you were. If my suspicions are correct, the entity in your mind would have grown over time and eventually been fully capable of seizing full control, manipulating your memories, and even your senses in real time.” Ryner explained gravely. “However, it seems at this age it only had enough power to manifest that particular mechanism once without damaging the structure of the block. Going in and triggering it a second time must have collapsed it.” Ryner looked at Aaron for a few long moments.

“The short of it is yes, you were in danger and assuming I am correct, yes they can stroll into your head at almost any time. Technically, eye contact is required but this vampire is old enough that altering memories is as easy and quick as tearing a single sheet of paper. If he didn’t want to be seen, he wasn’t.” Ryner smiled reassuringly. “I do not believe Lady Sinnenodel responsible for this. This ability isn’t learned; its an ancient and innate power of the original vampires and their children. The originals and the children slaughtered each other mostly and those remaining actively and aggressively opposed the Treaty. They were culled for the sake of peace with humanity. But if the Children are back…” Ryner trailed off, thoughts whirling in her mind, but she shook it off. “But hopefully it was an elaborate prank or a simple ruse.”

Aaron listened intently, growing visibly more troubled as Ryner went on. He was reeling, all this talk of the originals and how vulnerable he really was quickly becoming overwhelming. Eventually he couldn't sit still any longer and stood from his seat, pacing slowly and spinning his ring. He had so many questions, confusion and concern flooding his mind, though even beyond how on earth any vampire could possess magic, one stuck out from the rest.

“A ruse?” He asked finally, though he didn't stop his fidgeting, moving his ring from finger to finger. “But why would someone with that kind of power ever bother with me?”

“Your bloodline is a glowing testament to the Treaty. Imagine if you spoke against it.” Ryner responded. “It would throw our order into chaos. Rebel factions would feel emboldened and all out war may actually break out. As much as I agree change is necessary, destroying everything in the process is radical and dangerous to the greater human population. A single document is all that stands between the old ways and now. A Starag speaking out against it would obliterate it.”

“I would never speak against the Treaty,” Aaron replied automatically, though he was entirely sincere. He remembered what he'd told Salem that night after dinner (and what felt like every night after that), how despite its flaws, the order prescribed by the Treaty was the way things had to be to maintain peace. The very thought of someone trying to upend it was disturbing enough, and now what, someone was actually trying to do it?

“All those things Master said about the Red Hand…” Aaron stopped his pacing, eyes falling somewhere on the rug. “Truth be told, I didn't believe him. Not about Salem, anyway. Though I did see the Marivaldi house boarded up afterward…”

He looked back over to Ryner, head snapping up. “Do you think there's any chance they're behind this? What if they try again? Your Highness, if that's what's going on then I really may have no choice but to pursue mind magic; if someone is trying to manipulate me to undercut the Treaty, I have to do everything in my power to protect myself.”

“If that is what you believe, if that makes you feel safe, then do it. You always have a choice Aaron. As difficult as those around you may make it, you always have a choice.” Ryner said. “But no. The Red Hand isn’t behind this.” Ryner tapped absently on the desk. “But it does mean someone is hiding something.” At that moment, Ryner glanced up and the door swung open. Three mages in long robes swept in, bowing to the Princess.

“Visar, Allison, Dominick, this is Aaron. Based on recent events that he brought me, I believe Hannah has lost her affinity and is using a restricted technique to hide it. Allison, Dominick, find her and subdue her. She is not to be harmed under any circumstances but we cannot have her using what she has learned.” The pair of mages bowed and swept back out. Visar instead let his gaze fall on Aaron, sizing the boy up. The man matched height with Aaron and circled him slowly.

“This is the boy, your highness? This is my first time seeing a Starag in person. I must say, I’m-” Ryner silenced the man with a look and shook her head. Visar bowed his head.

“Sit down please Aaron. We can continue our discussion once we are done.” Ryner said, nodding at the chair he left vacant.

Aaron looked to the door when the mages arrived, though at the mention of Hannah, Ryner had his full attention. “What?” He all but blurted out, forgetting himself in his shock. Hannah lost her affinity? So what, did that mean everything she told him was useless, or did she just not have a strong enough connection after all? Or did their ordeal have something to do with it? It would torment him to think he had a hand in her affinity loss, but he truly had no idea.

He barely glanced at the one she called Visar, suddenly straightening when he realized his rudeness. Clearing his throat, he sat where Ryner indicated, speaking much more calmly. His court manner came back in the blink of an eye, neatly shelving his shock and concern behind a polite, if curt, mask now that he and the Princess were no longer alone. “Yes, forgive me, this is all a lot to take in.”

“I'm sure.” Visar said sympathetically as he took his place in front of Aaron. He leaned in and placed his hands on the mage's temples. “Relax into my magic when you feel it. You'll feel drowsy and you may fall asleep. It is perfectly normal.” As Visar spoke, Aaron could feel him coaxing at the edge of his mind, pulling up the sleepless hours he’d spent fretting and washing the pure exhaustion over him. The worry and anxiety faded away and his body felt light and sluggish all at once. Visar's magic felt like soft pillows and cool sheets and his mother's touch, refreshing and relaxing and familiar as he sifted through Aaron's memories.

“There are no foreign entities in his mind any longer, your highness.” Visar's voice was distant and far away as light touches and warm caresses coaxed Aaron further and further into his own mind. Visar murmured a few more words and Aaron slumped, fast asleep.

~ /// ~

“Aaron.” Ryner murmured as she ran her hand through his hair, putting just enough pressure to make her presence known. Visar had given his report almost half an hour ago and his spell would be wearing off soon. “Aaron, it’s time to wake up.”

A sensation in his hair began to coax Aaron from sleep, a voice, somewhat distant, bringing him back to the surface. His eyelids were still heavy when he opened his eyes, blinking slowly as he registered his surroundings. When he realized where he was, though, his eyes flew open with a sharp gasp and he practically jumped out of the chair, stumbling a bit and catching himself on the arm of the chair as he rose faster than his balance could adjust.

“I’m sorry!” he exclaimed, almost like a reflex as he blinked around at the office, waiting for the last fog of sleep to dissipate from his mind.

“Aaron, you walked into my office with dark circles. I'm not going to deny you a little much-needed sleep.” Ryner soothed, though the twinkle in her eyes betrayed her amusement. “However, I have to ask. Is it only the stress of debating your major that is causing this or have you had another dream? Life mages can ease your way through stress but those are an entirely different matter.”

Not entirely hearing her at first, Aaron searched the rug as he tried to figure out how he'd managed to fall asleep in a meeting with the freaking Princess. It took him a little longer than expected, grogginess clinging on more insistently than normal, but he remembered that they had been dancing, and then sat back down, talking more about finding his “purpose”. He must have nodded off in the chair, perhaps soothed by the music. Though Ryner was understanding, he still mentally kicked himself for behaving so irreverently. Maybe opening up and unloading his anxieties about the program had relieved enough of his tension for the exhaustion he'd been building on the past few weeks to come upon him all at once, but he still cursed his own foolishness.

Shaking his head as the last tendrils of sleep faded away, Aaron finally registered what had been said to him. Shaking his head, he allowed himself to settle back into his chair. Of course, Princess Ryner saw right through him. Not altogether surprising; the stress had been rolling off of him since he got here, and he knew after so long sleeping poorly his eyes looked more dead than alive. Frankly, he was surprised she hadn’t asked sooner.

“Your Highness, your intuition is uncanny,” he half-joked, although there wasn’t much energy left to keep up the facade as familiar anxieties crept back in. “It returned the last day I spent at home, though this one only lasted a week.” He got right to it. “I’ll admit that this one is more pleasant—if you could call cryptic dreams pleasant—but I’m sure you understand why I’m not exactly comforted by the thought.”

Ryner frowned when he explained the situation and she stood, returning to her desk and pulling out a new legal pad and a quill. “That is concerning. Why don’t you explain this dream to me and we’ll see what we can make of it. Hopefully, piecing it together will ease some stress off your shoulders and maybe give us a clue why you’re having them.”

Aaron nodded, taking a moment to put his thoughts in order. “At the very least, this one is less eventful,” he began. “The entire thing takes place in what I assume is Ellmare’s new home. She thinks it’s in the sky—presumably a tower—with a garden, and she’s been able to make herself at home. In the dream, she’s on a balcony, basking in the sunlight.”

He rubbed his temple, closing his eyes. “She thinks about the sun, and about Yvaine and others whom I assume are her associates—people Ellmare thinks of as the moon and stars, respectively. She feels safe and happy there with them, but just as her lingering doubts return, ‘her moon’ makes her presence known, sending a blue butterfly to call for her. Ellmare treats Yvaine like a mother, and Yvaine treats her as a daughter in turn.” His brow furrowed. “She seems to call upon something resembling plant magic, but more than that; she creates vines and flowers and stars to comfort Ellmare, and they’re effective. Ellmare drifts back to sleep and then…”

Aaron opened his eyes once more, shrugging defeatedly. He was starting to notice a pattern. “Then I wake up.”

Ryner had been writing for most of it, her quill moving as quickly as she jotted down notes and questions alike, but it had come to a halt at the mention of stars and flowers. She tapped a few times and underlined something before she looked back at Aaron. There was no expression on her face. “Starting from the beginning, you said it might be a tower and she was basking in the sunlight? Were you able to see anything beyond the tower or anything in the garden? Any details that might give us an idea where she is in your dream?”

“If not,” Ryner flipped the page and wrote some more. Her lack of expression didn’t change as she spoke, an unusual occurrence in front of any of the Starags. “Did she mention anything about Yvaine and her associates? Any specific details would be perfect. Did you see any of them?”

A stone of familiar dread settled in Aaron’s stomach as he watched the Princess disappear behind a mask of her own. Still, he took a moment to think, eager to provide as much information as he could. “It seemed to be warm in the daytime and cold at night, if that helps at all. Whatever home she was living in had a library, and apparently the garden was a maze garden. She seemed to think it stretched out beyond the horizon…”

It was like he was back in the dream for a moment, the images surrounding him as they had so many times before. It was vivid, and enchanting, but alas, there wasn’t anything more he could discern. “And that’s all, I’m afraid.”

As for the people, Aaron paused again to count them all. “There was… a funny little man who would bring Ellmare toys, and told her that silence was actually conversation—maybe a Divination instructor?” He sounded unsure, but counted off on his fingers anyway. “Then there was a woman who behaved like a leader among the others, but also taught Ellmare jokes and pranks she could play on Yvaine.” He almost smiled, feeling the familiarity from the dream. But as soon as he noticed it, he pushed it away, the thought of carrying anything out of those dreams disturbing him. “And then two more men. One I think was the man who accompanied Yvaine in the first dream, with an axe and a distaste for staying put, and the other was stern but warm, who Ellmare thought of as a father. It seems he took care of her anytime Yvaine wasn’t there.”

He looked back up at the Princess, letting his hands fall on the armrests. “I didn’t personally see any of them, but Ellmare was very familiar with all of them. There were servants present in the household too, but not mentioned except in passing. Does that help?”

There was a brief glimmer of relief in her eyes, gone in almost a blink, before a thoughtful frown replaced the expressionless mask. “Not immediately. I’ll do some research into it. Yvaine is still a central figure so it’s likely these are the other Children? Or perhaps embraced of her own? There is still so much to consider. A new dream before I could barely put a scratch on the other. At least there is more to go on. Hopefully it’ll help accelerate my research. Though I’m curious if we’ll see another dream in a similar time frame. If you do, I hope it’s as pleasant as this one. If you must be bothered by something, the least it could do is be nice.” She put down her quill, worrying at her lower lip as she considered her notes.

“Did Salem experience this dream at the same time?” Ryner asked. “And did your family find out you were having them while you were home?”

Nodding, Aaron refrained from admitting that he didn’t just hope the next dream was a pleasant one: he hoped it never came. Unfortunately, he feared he might not be so lucky.

“He did, yes,” he answered Ryner’s question. “To my knowledge, no one else knows. Salem tried to talk about it while we were still there, but I was quick to put an end to that.”

He ran a hand down his face, bringing it back up to massage his temple. “You know as well as I do that the walls at home have ears, and confidential details aside, I don’t need rumours flying around the servants’ quarters that I’m sharing dreams with a suspected rebel.”

“Don’t worry about the investigation. It’s little more than a facade to cover my mother’s pride. Though, Salem does seem to lack a certain survival instinct.” Ryner chuckled with a shake of her head. “Good job containing it. It would be a disaster if more of your family got involved. I’m glad I can count on you. With all this information in your head, I suppose it’s best you focus on mental magic as a major as difficult and risky as it is.”

Aaron couldn’t help but chuckle, relieved to see that he wasn’t the only one who thought Salem seemed to struggle with the idea that jumping off a cliff would not make him fly. But the humour was short-lived, an air of solemnity falling over Aaron once again. “My thoughts exactly,” he agreed. “It’s like you said before, Your Highness: Now that I have confidential information in my head, I have even more responsibility to protect myself.”

His smile did return for a moment as he recalled something. “Through force, duplicity, or any other means necessary, I think is how you phrased it.”

He shook his head, serious once more. “The difficulty doesn’t bother me, and the risk… well, I think it’s worth it. I think I can overcome it. If I can follow Hannah’s advice, anyway. It seems to have worked well for her.” He absently spun his ring as he spoke, but at that moment he stopped, recalling something pertinent from their meeting.

“Oh, but speaking of confidential information, is there anything you can tell me about ‘the Hive’? Hannah made it sound like a party line of mental mages; they all hook their minds together and… talk, or share consciousness, or something. Apparently you lose your privacy to it.” Aaron wrinkled his nose in distaste, despite himself. “She made it sound like there would be pressure to join, but I’m sure you can understand why I’d rather keep as much privacy as I can.”

He shuddered just to think of it. It wasn’t just Council secrets and nightmares he had hidden in his mind; the floor plan of the entire Noila castle, schedules of the servants and guards, and a highly secret and illegal mausoleum tucked away on castle grounds made up just some of the privileged information he had access to. He didn’t even want to think of the consequences he’d incur if anyone not bound by vows of confidentiality were to be literally picking through his brain.

“The Hive? There shouldn’t be any pressure to join. It’s entirely optional.” Ryner assured Aaron. “The Hive is just a place where the mental students can find support in each other because other students tend to ostracize them. We strongly encourage that they continue to interact with their peers outside the program as well. The more people know about them, the less likely they are to avoid and fear them. Privacy shouldn’t be an issue either. The keystone that holds the base spell that created and stabilizes the mental link will eject you and protect you from the rest of the students in the event you feel uncomfortable. Its process is entirely automatic and is far too advanced for any student to override it. Plus, an instructor regularly refreshes the enchantments on it. You should have nothing to fear from them.” Ryner tapped her fingers on her desk.

“However, I will speak with my team about it. Just in case, I’ll have them run interference and remind students about the privacy clauses of our school. And if that doesn’t work and they’re still pestering you,” Ryner leaned forward, a wicked glint in her eye. “You have quite the weapon in your pocket. I highly doubt someone as secretive as your Count would care to know his mage is being infiltrated. Twist your words right and maybe you can earn a little favor with him. I technically can only interfere so far but Varis has far more right to defend you than I. And as long as he doesn’t kill or harm them well,” Ryner sat back with a shrug, “What can I do about it?”

Aaron smirked at the Princess’ mischief. He had to admit, despite their… strained relationship, the idea that he could rely on his Count was a reassuring one. That was how things were meant to be, at least in Aaron’s ideal world; a mage serves his master faithfully and from it gains a stalwart ally. Granted, this was not an ideal world, but while he was pretty sure Varis would throw him under the bus for any number of reasons, the Count at least had a vested interest in the security of his mage’s mind. Despite the connotation, the thought was strangely comforting.

The Princess’ information was likewise a welcome relief, although a shadow of doubt still poked at the back of Aaron’s mind. “That is reassuring, thank you. Though, if it’s all the same to you Your Highness, I’d like to relay what Hannah told me about the Hive to one of your team just in case.”

“Of course. Would you like to commit it to paper and I can send it to them or would you like me to set up a meeting with them tomorrow?” Ryner asked. “I’m happy to oblige either way.”

“Paper should be fine. All things considered, there isn’t much to tell.” Aaron replied, the Princess handing him a pad and pen. He wrote quickly in elegant script - turns out all those lines were good for something after all, as his handwriting no longer looked so much like it was photocopied from a cursive instructional - and signed the bottom for authenticity. Folding it in half, he handed it back to the Princess with his thanks.

Ryner read over the paper, surprise written over her face. “Hannah said all this? If even half of this is true, this is incredibly concerning. We’ll absolutely look into this. For your safety and the safety of future students.” Ryner’s eyes narrowed. “Did your handwriting change, Aaron? Forgive me but it’s not quite as stiff as it used… Ah.” Ryner laid it on the side of her desk and glanced at the clock.

“Oh goodness. It’s probably about time we both find our way to bed.” Ryner chuckled as she stood and made her way around, taking Aaron’s hand. “Now, I need you to remember. My doors are always open to your Aaron, no matter where you are and no matter who you serve. There is always a place for you here. Whenever you need me, I’ll be there, okay?”

Aaron’s ears flushed bashfully at the Princess’ words, though he couldn’t help but cast his eyes down as that little creature of doubt Varis had planted before the break started gnawing at the back of his head once again. He wanted to believe her, he really did; she sounded sincere, and she’d been so much help to him despite her many responsibilities, but did he really have a place in front of her, or was this just a showing of remorse for other deeds? She talked about his assignment to Varis as if it wasn’t her doing, as if she hadn’t personally plucked him from his life in her household and thrown him to the snakes. She didn’t seem to think him worth keeping around in any official capacity - was this just her way of softening the blow?

As much as the doubt rent him in two, previous weeks had taken too much of a toll on Aaron for him to continue down that miserable road at the moment. He took a deep breath, giving the Princess’ hand an appreciative squeeze. “I’ll remember,” he promised. He had to take a moment to collect himself before he spoke again; despite his lingering uncertainty, Ryner’s kindness and the relief of getting all of his concerns off his chest crashed over him like a wave, and with his exhaustion on top of it all, he felt like he was moments away from just unraveling at the seams. A lump grew in his throat from the intensity of it all, but he swallowed it with a deep breath before finally meeting the Princess’ gaze. “Thank you, Your Highness. This has helped me more than you know.”

Clearing his throat, Aaron stood, looking - and feeling - much more like himself. “So, I can get those recordings from my mother?” He asked, getting ready to leave.

“Yes, you can. Or if you have something connected to a cloud, I believe I can get someone to send it to you through my cloud?” Ryner frowned a little. “I’m not quite sure what these clouds are but we can figure out a way to send them directly to you if you want them quicker. Now, don’t be a stranger or don’t think I won’t pull you out of class just to hear about your nights.” Ryner joked but pulled him into a tight hug before letting him leave.

Aaron couldn't help but laugh a little, returning the Princess’ hug somewhat more gently. “I’m sure we can figure something out,” he assured her, stepping toward the door. “I might write home and have a few more things sent in anyway, and I'll see Mr. Deshane about that application. I think I've made up my mind.” He gave her a smile and a customary bow, taking his leave. “Thank you again, Your Highness. Good day.”

Ryner’s smile lasted all of 30 seconds after Aaron left. She tapped on her desk as she thought, the wheels turning quickly in her head. She didn’t like this situation at all. Things were becoming messier than she’d like between his choice of major, Varis’ apparent inability to put more than a few dents in him, and he’s dreaming of her. Ryner had her suspicions at first but with this dream, there was absolutely no doubt. It hurt.

Ryner blinked away the tears threatening to fall and whipped out her phone, hitting the button Ella told her was Varis’ number. She’d thought it odd that one button was an entire cellular phone number but her mage assured her it worked. Something called ‘speed dial’. Ryner didn’t know what that meant but if it got her in contact with the annoying Count then it didn’t really matter. She waited impatiently until a groggily muttered demand snapped into her ear.

“Yes. I know what time it is, Varis. No, I don’t give a damn if you need sleep. You should be thankful that I’m telling you this now.” Ryner snapped right back. “Stop acting like a fledgling and grow up. Your part of the bargain just walked out of my doors and things are deteriorating in a way I do not like. I need this done last century, do you hear me? The sooner I have him back under my control the better so hurry up.” Ryner waited a moment and hung up right in the middle of his retort. That was sure to aggravate him to no ends and hopefully, that frustration would provide plenty of inspiration to twist the knife in Aaron.

She knew what she was doing was horrific. Willingly sending one of her Starags to Varis of all vampires with these intentions was horribly manipulative. She felt like her father for a moment but she shoved the thought away. She hadn’t worked all these years for a little guilt to trip her up now. The murder had put her plan in jeopardy with Nox shoving herself into the investigations but she’d smooth it over. She could handle a bump or two.

Ryner collapsed into the sitting chair Aaron vacated. Everything was so much. Aaron was just born at the wrong time, in the wrong family, and now she had to turn the pressure up as these dreams kept going. She couldn’t erase his memories for every issue, every time. She only hoped she’d figure out a way to stop them before he saw too much. Everything weighed in on her and she couldn’t stop the sob. The tears came after that and she shook silently as the blood stained her clothes. Pranks on Yvaine? How delightfully awful.

10/27: Aaron & Varis

Judgement

Varis let out another long sigh as he circled another section on this blithering baboon's paper. Seven corrections earlier, Varis left a very polite “See me during my next office hours” on the top, in big swooping letters and underlined only twice instead of the ten times he really wanted. Somehow, every date was off by exactly a century and at one point the student rambled about land acquisition instead of the medical improvement the Magical Medicare expansion of 1862 could have brought and why it failed.

“How do mages manage to live this long?” Varis muttered as he finished the paper, adding a few more petty corrections out of spite. It took more than he realized not to leave a scathing review of the paper, remembering his own grade apparently rested on his students’ review of him, and instead wrote it on the scrap paper filled with insults and jabs from previous papers he'd graded. Why some of these idiots wanted freedom baffled him. They clearly couldn't survive without someone holding their hand their whole lives.

Aaron, on the other hand, was counting down a list of numbers, his ledger on his lap and laptop lying nearby on the bed with several tabs open. He peered carefully between the screen and the ledger, marking down figures, scrawling the occasional simple equation in a scrap notebook nearby. He hadn’t meant to get so swallowed up in his betting history, but he’d been killing time after having finished his regular duties, waiting for Varis to finish his grading. It was a welcome distraction, though; so far in the racing season he’d more than doubled what he started with, though the series of small bets that made it happen had the consequence of being extremely time-consuming to calculate. It didn’t bother him much, though. Took his mind off what he was waiting to do, at least.

But all good things must come to an end, and soon enough Aaron had himself all squared up, with nothing more to balance, and nothing more to do. He hadn’t heard any movement from the study, though a glance at the clock on his laptop made him think Varis should have been done by now. Aaron mused that he might have fallen asleep again, finally sliding off his bed and deciding now was as good a time as any to get this whole affair out of the way. It wasn’t like he could wait much longer, anyway; his complete application to the Mind program was due in a few nights, and he’d be loath to push it any further lest he run into any setbacks. Everything had gone smoothly so far, but he was confident Varis would be able to find something that needed fixing before he could get everything submitted.

If for no other reason than to give himself a few extra seconds, Aaron stretched and pulled a folder labelled “Application” out of a drawer on his vanity, giving the pages within a final flip through before he crossed the hall. He paused outside the study door, taking a second to ground himself (as he’d become accustomed to doing before dealing with Varis) before he knocked.

“Enter.” Varis barked as he slammed his grading folder shut, looking up at the noise. Good. The boy would bring some insignificant detail to his attention and Varis would completely shred any opinion the mage had on it. Excellent timing.

Aaron entered, holding his hands and his folder behind his back after closing the door and bowing, and eyeing Varis’ grading folder curiously. “Oh, pardon me Master, I didn’t think you’d still be at it,” he apologized. “Do you have a moment?”

“Digging your eyes out with a dull spoon is slow going.” Varis commented dryly. “And if I didn't have a moment, I wouldn't have bothered allowing you in. Get to your point.”

Aaron nodded, producing his folder and holding it out for Varis to take if he so desired. “All I need is an appraisal of my arcane major application,” he stated simply. “It needs your approval before I can submit it, and it’s due at the start of the month.”

Varis took the folder, an eyebrow raised in pre-disapproval. Approval? Did Aaron just require approval for everything he did? Varis flipped the folder open and skimmed the first part quickly and his other eyebrow shot up. This boy must have some death wish. Did he forget his Lady liked collecting mental mages? Not to mention all the other risks involved in the school.

“I don't approve. What I've seen of your aptitude doesn't suggest you'd survive the program intact.” Varis continued reading, this time paying careful attention to each section. “I will not risk my newest show mage on a half baked magic school. Do you understand the risks involved? Do you want to end up like Vanessa because you will.” Varis snapped the folder shut and threw it on his desk.

“However, I will entertain you since you've obviously put some amount of effort into something for once. Explain yourself.” Varis demanded as he leaned back in the chair, legs crossed and one hand tapping irritably on the desktop.

“I’ve been deliberating over my reasons for some time but in short, I’d like to prevent a repeat of what happened at the beginning of the term, of any kind,” Aaron explained, fighting down the chill that slithered up his spine at the mere mention of Vanessa. Hopefully Varis was bluffing. “I understand the risks. You’ll find that both the psychological evaluator and my Affinity Mastery professor have approved me for the program, I’ve met or exceeded all the requirements, and I’ve spoken to multiple people at length regarding this decision. Including Her Highness,” he added the last part a touch more insistently, remembering that she and Varis seemed to have some measure of a friendly relationship.

Varis flipped open the folder again to confirm Aaron's claims, stiffening at the mention of Ryner. That would explain the call at that horrific hour. If she expressed her support despite the boy possibly losing his affinity, a major point to their plan, she must have an idea how to twist this. He pursed his lips irritably and clicked his tongue. He did not appreciate her changing the plan with such little notice. The last time brought the two vampires they weren't ready to handle yet. How could this change screw things over?

“You went above my head before consulting me.” Varis's tone turned downright deadly. “These petty officials can be forgiven, even commended as an act of responsibility, but you blatantly disrespect me by going to the Princess herself. Despite my relationship with her, denying you now would be equivalent to publicly disagreeing with her. You've effectively tied my hands in the matter.” Varis looked at the boy, cold fury written across his face and his eyes darkening. In reality, he didn't care, but his irritation at these students coupled with Ryner's recklessness quickly angered him. He snapped at the ground by his feet.

“If you don't want me to embroil your precious princess,” Varis practically spat, “in a horrifying public scandal, you will look me in the eye and beg for the opportunity.”

That spike of fear, like an old friend at this point, shot through Aaron at the Count’s sudden change in demeanour; he very nearly flinched at the tone, and he could practically see the scorn rolling off the vampire. He wanted to elaborate, explain that the Princess had done nothing except offer him the resources to cope with the mental program should he choose it, that he’d only gone to Ryner specifically because he hadn’t made his choice and didn’t want to waste Varis’ time on indecision, but it was clear that now was not the time.

Varis’ command brought with it a combination of reactions, part of Aaron wanting to strangle the bastard for his flagrant disrespect and the other, more sensible part of him wanting to do something like dissipate into the air and be blown with the wind far, far away. Unfortunately, both options were equally ridiculous—after all, strangling a vampire wouldn’t even do anything—and whatever anger was there melted into humiliated defeat, Aaron hanging his head. Maybe he’d been foolish to think he could cling to some shred of dignity, but regardless, he was no less determined to have his request granted. In any case, like so many things, it didn’t seem like he had a choice.

Swallowing his mounting nausea, Aaron did as he was told, falling to his knees before the Count. It took a few seconds and a deep breath to work up the courage to lift his head and look the vampire in the eye, Aaron having to consciously fight down the reflex to look away.

“Master, please,” he began quietly, ears already starting to burn, “I beg you, please grant me this opportunity to learn to protect myself, and become some measure more useful to you than I am.”

Varis let him sit, silently reveling in the boy's embarrassment. The boy really had perfect timing. It made him feel marginally better but he would have words with Ryner today. Tearing the rug out from under people was his job. He leaned down and gripped the mage's chin tightly so he couldn't look away.

“That is barely enough but I guess I'll allow it. You'll have my signature.” Varis sneered. “But you'll have to be punished for this infraction. Imagine if the Princess wanted to discuss your decision before you told me. What a fool I'd seem with no idea of your plans. So I have to take something from you for now. Something valuable enough that its absence will teach you a lesson for the next month. What do you think I should take, boy?”

For a moment, Aaron wished he were a water mage; perhaps then he could melt into a puddle and drip down through the floorboards. If only life were so fair. Good lord, he hated when Varis made him weigh in. It reminded him of when he was a child and his teacher would tell him to fetch a switch to be beaten with, only somehow worse. At least the pain from the switches faded after a few days; with Varis, nothing was ever over so quickly.

Fighting the urge to tear his chin out of Varis’ hand—he thought he’d get used to it, but it seemed he just hated the sensation that much more every time it happened—Aaron did a quick mental inventory. Goodness, he didn’t have much apart from necessities, did he? And as much as the childish part of him wanted to suggest something more inconsequential, he knew that wasn’t an option. Even back home, trying to cheat by bringing over a lighter switch than was necessary always resulted in getting caned that much more harshly. In any case, he doubted Varis would actually take his suggestion into consideration. Aaron had learned quickly that many of Varis’ tactics were just exercises in humiliation.

“If you’re willing to accept a month-long lapse in my training, then I suppose the obvious choice would be Dawn,” he stated flatly, both groaning on the inside and hoping suggesting something harsh might appease the Count a touch.

“Lapse in training? There are plenty of weapons to choose from at the arena.” Varis sat back, replacing his hand with his shoe under the mage's chin. “That is an excellent suggestion. I would have reduced your punishment by a week but this attitude is unacceptable. Do not speak to me like that again or I'll take it away for longer.” Varis snapped his fingers at the door. “Fetch and return in this exact position.”

The shoe made Aaron bristle, but the equivalent of a long line of question marks burst through his head at Varis’ reprimand. Attitude? What attitude? He was groveling on his knees, having been carefully training a facade of neutrality and a habit of perfect obedience for his entire damn life, but apparently Varis considered anything short of fawning sycophancy to be attitude.

Keeping his mouth shut this time, Aaron rose obediently and all but bolted to his room, pulling Dawn from its spot in the closet with a measure more reluctance. He forced himself not to hesitate too long, only pulling it out of the scabbard a few inches to check the blade as he walked back. He would have liked the chance to oil it before Varis stored it away, but he was on thin enough ice as it was. He could only hope rust wouldn’t set in before he got it back. He snapped the blade back into the scabbard before returning to the study, settling into the same position as before, as instructed.

Varis waited until he felt the slight push of Aaron's chin to look up from his application folder. He'd picked it up while the boy took his time fetching his weapon but Varis couldn't fault him. He was only human after all.

“Drop it.” Varis ordered as he continued to read. “Walk me through this relaxation plan or whatever you have in here.”

It was lucky Aaron had a talented poker face, because that meant he was able to fight down the snarl that threatened on his face. Gently, he placed Dawn on the floor at Varis’ feet, forcing himself to calm down. Irritation still pricked at him from Varis’ attitude comment, but now was not the time.

“It’s a mandatory component of the program,” he explained, no small amount annoyed at the resistance of Varis’ shoe under his chin as he spoke. “For an hour after each mental training session, I have to do something to relieve stress. I’ve been told that my usual method of exhausting myself won’t work, so I’ve replaced training with simple dances like waltzes, accompanied by recordings of my past cello performances.”

He finally let out the breath he’d been holding, his anger fading and leaving only mild exhaustion in its wake. “As well, once my application goes through I planned to send away for some things from home. Old pictures, journals, things of that nature. I’ve been told repeatedly that keeping in touch with my past will help lower the risk of affinity loss.” He shifted a little on his knees, putting his hands in his lap. “There’s a draft for a month’s worth of this plan in the folder, though it’s flexible enough to change depending on how the program affects me.”

Varis read through it with half hearted interest until he mentioned waltzes. Dancing suggested he would need a partner, someone he felt comfortable with if he was supposed to relieve stress. That would put a damper on his plans if the boy had a reliable source to calm him down. He tapped his other foot as he thought. He did not like this one bit but Ryner stole that choice from him. Another thing to yell at her about.

“Very well.” He set the folder down and pulled out a pen, his hand stilling just before he signed. “However, you will introduce me to whoever you waltz with. We'll have a formal dinner with them and their vampire. I will not tolerate you mingling with anyone beneath your station, is that understood?” Varis would ensure he could force some distance between them. He couldn't control the boy's family items anymore thanks to this mess so he'd have to dip his fingers further into his social life.

Aaron nodded; at least, as much as he could against Varis’ shoe. He’d been considering including Lilie in his waltzing plan, but something about Varis getting involved with her rubbed him the wrong way. After having spent a few months with the Count, Aaron had figured it best to keep people he cared about more or less out of the situation. He had a few other ideas, luckily, though he’d have to think on it more later. For the moment, he simply replied, “Understood, Master.”

“You're dismissed.” Varis signed the page and dropped the folder on the floor next to the mage. He moved the foot under Aaron's chin and settled it on top of Dawn's sheath, watching Aaron closely as he did.

Aaron watched Varis place his foot down, but had to force himself to tear his eyes away when he stepped on Dawn, another flash of anger striking him. Instead he focused on collecting his folder and standing, giving Varis a bow and a curt, “Thank you, Master,” before taking his leave as quickly as could be done politely, eyes glued to the folder. When he got back to his room, Varis might have heard the thump of his vanity drawer closing just a little harder than necessary.

Of Blood and Magic

_{Dates: September 21st - October 7th}

9/21: Aaron & Varis

Turning the Tide

Aaron’s day passed slowly, the mage fading in and out of sleep for what felt like no more than five minutes at a time; he had opted to spend the day in one of Eris’ armchairs, leaving the couch to Salem. The night’s events coupled with the distinct discomfort of staying in another vampire’s dorm made it difficult to relax, and it wasn’t until briefly before sunset, when exhaustion overwhelmed his sensibilities that Aaron was finally able to drift into something resembling sleep.

Of course, like any other chance for Aaron to relax, it was short-lived, a secondary alarm he’d set for himself blaring him back to life shortly before the sky turned completely dark. He silenced it quickly, hoping it didn’t wake Eris up, and made his way from the dorm as quietly as he could, sneaking across a still-deserted campus. A few times he spotted an obsidian-clad patrol in the distance, but they paid him little mind, and he was able to make it to the noble cul-de-sac unmolested.

When he finally shambled back to his dorm (disheveled from a sleepless day in an armchair and what he assumed was a developing hangover) the delivery woman was already there, watching him with unveiled amusement.

“Rough day, kid?”

Aaron didn’t bother to hide his look of contempt, running a hand through his hair in a futile attempt to look a little presentable. He did his best to shake off his lingering grogginess and approached the woman.

“You’re early,” he greeted flatly, voice dry. As if on cue, the first alarm he’d set to wake himself up for just this occasion went off in his pocket.

The delivery woman didn’t seem bothered. “It’s a slow night,” she explained, smirking as she handed over her clipboard to be signed.

Silencing his alarm with one hand, Aaron signed the clipboard with the other, not bothering to take it from her. He cleared his throat as the woman handed over his usual package, warm to the touch and smelling of raspberries. “Thanks.”

The woman chuckled, amused by Aaron’s unusually short demeanour. “Happy Revel,” she replied, turning back to her bike and not bothering to hide her snickering.

Aaron glared after her, though he gave that up before she even got her bike started, leaning against the wall and doing his best to blink the sand out of his eyes. A cursory glance told him it was 7:58pm., giving him only two minutes to prepare for what he was sure would be a thorough dressing-down when he finally got inside.

He cast a wary glance at the dorm. His immediate fear of these encounters had since lost its edge, replaced now by an exasperated, yet familiar, sense of dread. He was a mess; he set the box down on the top of the wall to brush himself off, doing his best to get the creases out of his pants while simultaneously knowing it wouldn’t make a difference. He flattened his lapel unnecessarily - his jacket was hopelessly wrinkled anyway - and hung his mask on his elbow, doing his best to rub the sleep out of his eyes and futily hoping the growing headache pounding behind his eyes would subside.

At 7:59 Aaron made his way to the door with his package and stood for a moment at the threshold, taking a deep breath. He didn’t know what awaited him on the other side of that door - though he had a couple guesses - but he resolved that there was no sense giving himself time to get worked up over it, and knocked.

Varis, for once, set an alarm himself the night before when he realized the incompetant oaf was late. Once again, Varis had to wonder what they taught them behind those castle walls. Maybe the royal family was just letting them lounge about like exotic pets until it was time to put them on parade. That would explain all the poor manners the boy had. The earlier hour added an extra edge to his irritation as he got ready. He chose a royal blue suit today with ruby cufflinks. He didn’t wear it often but he was feeling a little color today after the cathartic night before. And raking the boy over the coals would be the perfect way to clear out the last vestiges of weakness he succumbed to.

His next alarm rang at 7:45 as he was stepping out of his room. He’d made sure to draw the curtains when he finished cleaning up his mess. A quick appraising eye around the room and he fixed on a couch cushion left askew; otherwise, everything looked to be in order. Not a thing out of place and certainly nothing to suggest he’d reverted to a childhood habit. He repositioned a chair in the middle of the living room, took a step back, decided it wasn’t quite right, and put it back. It was important to make an impression. The boy was, irritatingly enough, taller than Varis and he wasn’t sure just standing would be enough of a power play to remind the boy of his position but the chair had been used so frequently in recent nights, Varis was afraid its effectiveness was fading.

Varis would never admit it but he lost track of time, startling at the knock at the door. He huffed and straightened his jacket, smoothing out any last wrinkle, drew back the curtains, and went to unlock the door, not bothering to open it as he turned away and made his way back into the living room without looking at Aaron. Varis kept his back turned and snapped once at the spot next to him.

Aaron heard the lock slide over, unsurprised that the door didn’t open, and opened it himself, stepping in with his package under his arm and doing his best to act like he didn’t look like he’d just returned from some wilderness excursion gone wrong. By the time he got in he could already see Varis in the living room, dressed uncharacteristically colourfully and staring thoughtfully out the window. Yeah, that couldn’t be good. Varis usually sat for their little talks, presumably to lord his comfort over his mage’s groveling and give himself the freedom to perch a shoe under Aaron’s chin, so forgoing that luxury tonight and standing certainly meant he had something different in mind. Great. He’d do his best not to dwell on that too much. The snap, at least, was expected, and Aaron made only enough of a detour to deposit his package on the kitchen counter before promptly kneeling where Varis indicated, gaze trained silently on the floor.

Varis let the silence stretch between them for a minute. He closed his eyes, enjoying the pleasant aroma of the pastries and the tension that must certainly be in the boy’s shoulders. He let out a sigh. “After all the progress you’ve made, after you’ve earned a day off, after you made me believe that you were improving. A curfew. That’s all you had to do. No other rules, no other responsibilities. And you couldn’t be bothered to meet it.” Varis sighed again and shook his head in disappointment. “I was considering the next step would be covering one of those awful letters in your room but I clearly need to rethink that.” Varis let him sit on that for a while longer.

“I’m disappointed, boy. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Aaron almost jumped when Varis broke the silence, but truthfully it was nothing more than he expected. In a way, Varis echoed his own thoughts on the matter. Everything he said was true; following a curfew wasn’t rocket science, and after how excited and grateful he’d been to receive his night off, he repaid that kindness by falling short of the only expectation he had to follow. It was shameful, and Aaron would have been just as displeased if the roles were reversed.

“You’re right, Master,” he agreed. “It was a simple order, and I’m disappointed in myself that I couldn’t manage to follow it. For what it’s worth, know that I had every intention to get back on time. Please accept my humblest apologies.”

Varis resisted an exasperated eye roll. Immediately taking responsibility? Exactly as the boy should do but it took all the fun out of this. He thought on the matter some more, considering whether that was enough to let the boy off the hook. Probably not. “Your apology is being considered. While I am glad you didn’t shirk your responsibility in this matter and accepted your failure for what it is, it still begs the question of why. If you had every intention, what distracted you? The Starags’ reputation suggests perfection to the point of obsession when duty and responsibility are involved so what was so important that you miss your curfew? Walk me through the last hour or so of your evening.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Aaron suppressed a sigh. Again, Varis was right, both about his family’s reputation and how he himself usually behaved. He self-admittedly pursued completion of his orders with single-minded purpose; the problem was that he had to admit it was the pursuit of someone else’s orders that made him late.

Swallowing his apprehension, Aaron forced himself to speak, resigning himself in advance to the furious response he expected to receive. “Most of my last hour was unremarkable,” he began, “I spent it enjoying Revel with Ms. Dionne - the Eve mage - and a few others, with alarms set to return for my curfew. Ms. Dionne stepped on a bottle before we left and cut her foot, and while I did help her home, I was still on track to be here on time.”

He took a breath before continuing. “However, when we arrived in the cul-de-sac, Princess Ryner was standing at the threshold of the Eve dorm with an Eve by the name of Count Benjamin - apparently another replacement for their House’s spot here, Countess Mariette having apparently vacated the position. Of course she wanted to talk, and given her station I was loath to refuse her. The conversation carried on a bit longer than expected, and on top of that she asked me to relay her contact information to the new Count.”

Aaron’s next steadying breath was more of a sigh, a bit of lingering exhaustion sneaking into it as he recalled the fiasco at the Eve dorm. “He invited me inside, and I could hardly leave without giving him Her Highness’ information as requested. He seemed reluctant to release me, and by the time I finally got out of there, I had missed my curfew.”

The little tidbit about the new Eve―Count Benjamin? He’d have to look into that later.―was filed neatly away for further inspection. If that had been the end of the story, Varis may have ended their little discussion there with a lighter sentence than originally intended. It was important to encourage good behavior as much as it was to punish bad behavior without going overboard but it didn’t. Of course, it was something about Ryner. The entire reason the boy was in this situation was to distance him from them and here she was, meddling every five bloody seconds! She hadn’t been without him for a semester and here she was, upsetting everything he was trying to accomplish. Varis sneered and whirled on the boy.

“You missed the simplest expectation because you wouldn’t bother explaining that your Master expected-” Varis stopped short as he finally laid eyes on the boy. The colors, the mask… All of it screamed Noila loyalist. Noila colors. On his mage. Out at a public event. “Would you care to explain this ensemble, boy?” Varis spat, jaw clenching as he held himself back from repeating the scene at Ryner’s dinner. The utter disrespect of this situation, first with the curfew and now with his obvious Noila preferences, was a slap to the face and Varis seethed. If anyone saw this brat in this outfit and recognized him… Varis didn’t even want to think about the social consequences of a mage promoting, no flaunting, their loyalty to their previous owner.

Aaron had an explanation on the tip of his tongue - albeit he wouldn’t know what it was until it came out of his mouth - when Varis cut himself off, stopping Aaron’s thoughts in their tracks. A cautious glance up showed Varis’ eyes darkening, a look Aaron was much more familiar with than he felt like he should be, though expected given the situation.

Sure enough, the topic switched to his clothes; Aaron wasn’t surprised at the outrage, but somehow this had been the first time he really thought about the consequences of dressing himself up as a de facto Noila mascot for Revel. Sure, Varis wouldn’t be out in the mess to see it firsthand, but what reaction had he expected when he came back at the end of the night?

A stone of dread dropped in his stomach, and he suppressed a shiver. “Just something sent from home, Master,” Aaron replied quickly, “I had no say in the matter.”

“Oh? You had no say. Well, that makes everything better!” Varis said derisively. “Are you saying someone came into my home, put a blade to your throat, and demanded you put those clothes on? Are you telling me you didn’t put each and every piece of that gaudy outfit on, check for wrinkles, make sure your cuffs were buttoned up properly, check the lacing on your shoes more than once because you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself and trip while dancing? Did some sort of enchantment compel you into putting these clothes on because from where I’m standing, it seems to me that you very much had a say in the matter.” Varis crouched, grabbing the boy’s chin firmly, and made him look him in the eye. He let his thrall reach out into the mage, letting it fill the boy with a sense of security despite Varis’ visible frustration.

“Why don’t you tell me how wearing those clothes made you feel. Was it nice wearing Noila colors again?” Varis asked, his tone sweet and soft.

Aaron resisted flinching as Varis let loose his barrage, each point lowering his head a little further with shame. Because it was true. And it was shameful. And foolish. Foolish to think he’d get to enjoy that one evening of respite from reality. Good lord, he’d have been better off coming home naked! The break was nights away and he couldn’t wait that long to pretend that his House hadn’t cast him out? Sure, he hadn’t requested the ensemble himself, but he hadn’t told his mother otherwise either, and he’d admired it and cherished it as a memento from home, and somehow hadn’t thought about the consequences. Once more he’d brought this on himself; so much for not making the same mistake twice.

The chin grab was all but expected, though Aaron’s insides squirmed again when he was forced to look into Varis’ black eyes. Strangely, though, the feeling was gone as quickly as it came; Aaron saw the look of utter contempt on Varis’ face, saw the rage swirling in his eyes, but somehow wasn’t bothered by it. It was the same feeling of calm he used to get as a child when he had to be ushered out of the way, warm and distinct. Varis was probably thralling him, but Aaon wasn’t terribly concerned about it.

“It was… a nice reminder of home…” he softly repeated his words to the stranger at the ball, drawn in by Varis’ welcoming tone.

“Yes, I’m sure it was.” Varis kept his voice level and slow, not wanting to snap the boy out of his control. Even if all he wanted to do was to drag the boy outside and sell him off to the Astorios for embarrassing him like this. “Do you ever wish you could go back?”

Only every night, but Aaron couldn’t tell him that. Or, maybe he could? Varis seemed to want to know, after all. He shouldn’t lie; Varis had made clear his contempt for dishonesty. Of course, there was one caveat.

“Yes,” he answered honestly, though his voice did go a little quiet. “But… I don’t think they’d take me.”

"And why is that?" Varis asked, letting concern leak into his voice. He'd heard it plenty from Ryner when she was consoling other vampires that it was easy enough to imitate. "You're the only male in the Starag line. Isn't it odd to think they wouldn't take you back?"

Indeed it was, but it was the only conclusion Aaron could come to. His hopes of being a diplomatic tool had gradually been dashed as Varis’ opinion of him worsened - after all, no one gives a defective gift to curry favour - so why else would he have been sent away? He used to dream of attending the Queen for fuck’s sake, and now here he was, tripping over himself to obey the simplest orders from a Count. Clearly he'd overestimated his capabilities - maybe that was why he was here. Maybe being the only fertile Starag left was what kept him from having his name stripped for good, but otherwise, Aaron had to assume that he was here because the Noilas thought he wasn’t worth the trouble.

“I suppose,” he answered Varis’ question somberly, “but I can only imagine that if they still wanted me, they wouldn't have given me away in the first place.”

Varis had enough of the boy’s pity party. He’d never cared for the servant class’ depressive tendencies. It left an unwelcome taste in his mouth like all their other emotions. He stood back up, breaking his thrall, and took a moment to process. Playing with the boy’s head gave him time to collect himself and he no longer felt like an Astorio brute despite the simmering anger. The fact still remained that Aaron disrespected him in one of the worst ways possible, and publicly no less, so he needed to rectify that immediately. He gave Aaron a few moments to shake off Varis’ influence and collect himself before immediately returning to chastising the boy.

“This disrespect is unacceptable, boy. You flaunted another house’s colors, your old house’s colors, in public which sends an unmistakable message to anyone with more than two brain cells. Which thankfully rules out the majority of this school but the rare few are going to be talking about this everywhere. I guarantee that the staff at the very least will spin rumor after rumor that’ll have to be handled sooner than later.” Varis muttered at the end, rubbing his temples as he considered how to handle that. He was definitely going to lean on Eris for that one. The vampire knew how to play the public like a lute and Varis wasn’t above making another headline to avoid this one.

“For now, I want that off. Everything you’re wearing needs to come off right now. Fold it neatly and leave it right where you are. Shoes and mask included. Then, you’ll lead the way into your room and take a damn shower. Clean yourself up because you are disgusting and I will not tolerate that for another second. Just looking at you makes me want to vomit. And then we’ll deal with the rest of your Noila belongings like I should have at the beginning.” Varis ordered.

Varis stood, and the calm that had fallen over Aaron immediately began to lift, an ugly ball of dread coming in to replace it. Oh no. No no no. He did not just say all that out loud, to Varis, did he!?

Coming to the full realization of what had just occurred, it was all Aaron could do not to panic. He’d just admitted some things to Varis he would hardly admit to himself, and all of them unbearably traitorous. And now, Varis was silent, and all Aaron could do for a moment was stew in dread.

Mercifully, Varis finally broke the silence, and Aaron had never been so happy to be ordered to strip; better than a million of the much less pleasant alternatives his panicking mind had come up with. He did just as he was told, wasting no time worrying about modesty as he stripped and folded his clothes as commanded. There was no time to wonder what would become of them before he took off to his room; once there, he unceremoniously removed his earring as he turned on the water, leaving it on the bathroom vanity and not even waiting for the water to warm before jumping in the shower.

Varis inspected his nails as Aaron rushed to complete his tasks, rolling his eyes. At least he still did one thing right. Varis followed Aaron into the room and ignored as the mage threw himself into the shower. Varis shook his head. The boy could rival Eris for his dramatics. He helped himself to the boy’s closet, barely bothering to look around as he snatched things off hangers and shelves and tossed them on the floor. Trash, trash, trash… Varis tossed two of his undershirts on the bed, two pairs of slacks, underwear, socks, and the least irritating pair of shoes he could find alongside them. Those would be enough to tide the boy over until he returned to the castle with his tail between his legs.

"If you don't finish washing in the next five minutes, I'll finish it for you." Varis said as he walked into the bathroom and grabbed the earring off the counter before returning to the bed, sitting down, and examining the jewelry.

Aaron didn’t have to be told twice. He’d already been washing at a fever pace anyway, scrubbing like mad to keep his hands from shaking. Part of him knew he really needed to get this stress response under control, but tonight… tonight was different. Aaron wasn’t sure he’d ever screwed up this bad with Varis; even being dragged around the Princess’ dining room by his neck hadn’t felt quite this urgent. As far as Varis was concerned, that episode had merely been incompetence. This… this was much worse. This was purposeful disrespect.

He didn’t even need the full five minutes to finish; he emerged with about a minute to spare, drying himself quickly but thoroughly. He left his towel hanging on its rack - experience told him it would only irritate Varis, and Aaron had bigger things to worry about at the moment than nudity - and made his way back into the bedroom, sparing only a glance at the mess that was his closet and the clothes delegated to the bed. Seemed about right. The Noila belongings Varis wanted to “deal with” constituted just about everything Aaron owned, and it seemed like Varis really was intent on “dealing with” all of it. A bit of distress sparked up in the back of Aaron’s mind as he considered exactly what that entailed, but he forced it aside as he took his usual place at Varis’ feet, noticing only then that the Count had his earring in hand. That couldn’t be good, either.

Varis waited until the boy settled to turn his attention away from the earring, folding his hands in his lap as he considered the mage at his feet. Varis put his foot beneath his chin and tilted the boy's face to meet his gaze. "This is much better. I'm quite sick of these Noila trappings you wrap yourself in. There is little more disrespectful than my own mage trapessing about in another family's colors. Plus, it only serves as a distraction. It'll be better once we- you- deal with these, receive your punishment, and we can move on from this mess." Varis clicked his tongue in disappointment.

"But before that. I'll admit I can't quite wrap my head around something. Why, after everything you said, would you even do this? Why scorn the House that took you in after Ryner cast you to the wolves? Do you blame me for this situation you’re in? Is that why you're acting out?" Varis demanded.

Aaron struggled to meet Varis’ gaze when his face was lifted, and this time only partially because of his usual aversion to eye contact. Mostly, it was because he was embarrassed; not even so much from the kneeling or the nudity - he was used to that - but from his behaviour. He didn’t have the heart to try to defend himself, tell Varis it was never his intention and he simply wore what was sent to him, nothing. Not only would Varis not believe him, but it wasn’t even true. The truth was, he’d known exactly what he was doing when he put on that suit and strapped on that mask. He was dancing the night away in his nostalgic little bubble, pretending he was back home and everything was fine. Above all, he didn’t just disregard the flagrant disrespect it showed to his new House - he enjoyed it.

“I don’t blame you, Master,” he murmured. At least that much was true - Varis seemed no more the willing participant in this match than he was. If anything, it was him who got the short end of the deal, being given a mage as incompetent and reprehensible as Aaron was learning he was.

For a moment, though, he wasn’t sure how to continue. How could he? Anything he said would only serve to further insult Varis, not to mention expose him to more of those mortal emotions he viewed with such contempt. But Aaron had already spilled so much of his guts under Varis’ thrall, was it worth keeping the rest of it a secret now? Wouldn’t it be better to get it all out of his system, take whatever punishment resulted and finally move on?

“Mortal attachments are illogical, Master,” he finally continued, opting to just come out with it. “Serving the royal family is all I’ve ever known or wanted, I’ve broken a centuries-long legacy, and… I suppose I’m still struggling to accept it.”

"Interesting. Tell me, how do you feel about this?" Varis unfurled the earring and dangled it in front of the mage. "Be honest. I don't have the patience to take the answers nicely this time."

Aaron watched the earring swing with hard eyes. Be honest, and expect consequences. Bite the bolt and get it over with. It seemed he had the right idea to start with. “It feels like a cattle tag, Master.”

"It feels like a-" Varis stared in silent amazement at the boy. Varis gave him a claim of ownership, not his first pick of course but an effective one nonetheless, and the boy calls it a cattle tag? Once again, the slow building interest in the boy crashed at his utterly ungrateful behavior. The boy should be thanking him that Varis bothered to show interest in him at all! Varis wasn't the one tossed out from his home, Varis wasn't the one kneeling in front of another, Varis wasn't the one being used as a pawn in some twisted game! Varis closed his eyes and swallowed back the bubbling anger. Mostly.

"A cattle tag. I give you a gift and you treat it like a common piece of garbage. How predictable.” Varis scoffed, returning the earring to his lap. “I never realized the Starags were such an ungrateful bloodline. I assumed yours above such things but clearly I was wrong. Just another thing on the list of things to correct I suppose. And I thought it was finally getting shorter.” Varis sighed and tapped the toe of his shoe against Aaron’s chin thoughtfully. If the boy didn’t care for it, then perhaps he’d indulge him. Considering the offence, a bolder statement would probably be better anyways as much as Varis disliked the thought. But this mage was as dense as they came and seeing that in the mirror would be much more reinforcing than an earring.

“After some consideration, perhaps you’re right. Perhaps this mark is treating you too much like livestock.” Varis voiced his thoughts out loud. “Something more personal would be suiting. Would you like to be treated like a pet instead? I’m sure any number of craftsmen would love to be the first to design a collar for a Starag’s neck. I’d even pay to have it prioritized and sent to you at home. That would clear up any misunderstandings quickly enough. We can't have my mage wearing refuse, now can we."

Varis had a talent for tearing people down, and it seemed to Aaron that no matter how often he thought he’d hit the bottom, there was always a little bit further to fall. Aaron shook his head as best he could against Varis’ shoe, doing his best to contain his disgust at the idea of a collar.

“No, Master, that won’t be necessary,” he insisted, defeated. “Forgive me for not recognizing your generosity. I’ve never been given this type of gift before.”

“Good. I don’t think I could handle seeing a mage of mine in something as hideous as that.” Varis didn’t bother hiding his contempt for collars as he held out the earring for Aaron to take. “Put this back on. As for forgiveness, that will be much more difficult to earn. This is the third time you’ve slapped me in the face in less than a night and your punishment will need to reflect that appropriately. The first step is easy enough at least. I don’t think you’ll figure out a way to mess it up.” Varis waved at the clothes on the bed.

“For now, get dressed. What I’ve laid out is what you’re permitted to wear until you’ve returned to the Noila castle. As plain as it is, it’ll do you some good to take away one of your defensive layers for a while.” Varis stood, his foot leaving Aaron’s chin, and he gave the boy an appraising look. He needed to make sure he had the boy’s measurements before he left. Varis couldn’t have him wandering the school like this forever so he’d need to bring an entire wardrobe back with him. Probably a tailor too for quick fittings. “After that, I want everything on the floor folded and brought into the living room. I have your publicity stunt last night to handle so hurry up.” Varis left Aaron in his room, settling out on the couch with his laptop. He had all his work from yesterday to catch up on and this disaster to avert so he sighed and set out typing emails to whoever he thought useful though he paused over Ryner’s contact information. He’d hold off on that one. Aaron would probably enjoy adding his input to that correspondence.

That Varis seemed as uninterested in a collar as Aaron was was as a small comfort, though of course, it didn’t linger long. Aaron knew quite well by now that forgiveness was a difficult thing to come by in this household, and this latest and most severe of transgressions was certain to prove one of the most difficult yet to erase. He put his earring back on when told, quite practiced by now at securing it, but his jaw nearly dropped when he finally got a good look at what Varis had left for him to wear. This was hardly even half of a complete outfit! He was smart enough not to hesitate, but there was still plenty of time for the horror to dawn on him as he dressed. An undershirt? That was all? He realized Varis seemed to be purging his entire wardrobe, but surely it would reflect poorly on him to have his mage walking around half-dressed, wouldn’t it?

Varis left, and Aaron stole a precious second when he had his clothes on and the others folded to look into his full-length mirror. In just an undershirt and slacks, arms and shoulders hanging out like some hillbilly in a movie, he felt even more exposed and underdressed than he did when he was naked. The shirt almost felt see-through, though he didn’t think it actually was. Rubbing his bicep absently, he was marginally comforted by the fact that there were no classes to attend between now and when he went home, though that’s when he realized the worst part of all; he’d have to show up at the castle dressed like a homeless madman. But there was no time to dwell on that while Varis was waiting, and Aaron didn’t tarry long, moving promptly to the living room to deposit the folded clothes and take his place once more at Varis’ feet.

Varis finished replying to an email about a disagreement between a Duke and Duchess under his purview then opened a blank email for Ryner. Or at least her pet mage considering the Princess could barely use a flip phone. "Now before we move onto the next step, I have to notify a few people that may also be affected by this development and since you grew up groomed for service to the royal family, I thought I'd use your expertise. How would you tell the Princess about your involvement in this incident?" As he spoke, a sense of dread washed over him as he realized he'll soon be in a similar position as the boy. Chances were she already heard and was just waiting to see how faithful he'd be. But that was a task for later, once the boy was away.

How would he tell the Princess? Aaron wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He’d already told Varis that Princess Ryner had seen him last night; she was perfectly aware of the situation, and (he realized, a little late and a lot uncomfortably) also doubtlessly aware of the consequences, given her familiarity with Varis. Although, now that he thought about it, Ryner probably wasn’t the object of Varis’ attention at all. Certainly he knew her skill - or lack thereof - with electronics, and knew that all of her emails went through one of her mages before being transcribed for her to read. Un prior years, that duty fell to her personal mage, Aaron’s mother; but now, with her declining health keeping her at the castle and working remotely, one of Ryner’s other mages had taken over that part of the job while the Academy was in session. Aaron had to bite back a proud little smirk; had Varis just missed the mark?

That must have been it! This was just another humiliation tactic. The email wasn’t for Ryner’s benefit, but for the mage transcribing it; he clearly thought it would be Aaron’s mother - which would have achieved his goal quite disastrously, no doubt - but he hadn’t paid enough attention in recent years to know that job had been passed to a mage Aaron barely knew. Ha! Even in the face of the disaster he’d wrapped himself up in, that one little detail changed his mood more than he ever would have expected.

Doing his best to contain his satisfaction at finally being on the… well, not the winning side of one of these little punishments, but at least not too far on the losing side either, Aaron shook his head, tucking his tiny victory away for later. He had an idea of how he might turn things around, even just a little bit. “I don’t think that will be necessary, Master,” he replied evenly, though a bit more confident than before. “Her Highness is already aware of my disgrace, and besides, I have it on good authority that she might have her hands full with other matters for the time being.”

Varis narrowed his eyes at the boy as he considered the question. Varis would give him credit - the boy kept his reactions well in line but Varis made it a point to observe his mages while outside of his direct attention and he quickly realized he'd made a mistake. Varis made a note to look into Ryner's staff. As far as he was aware, Ryner should be relying on one of the boy's relatives to keep track of her emails but the brat barely seemed phased. His response lacked the typical pause when he was forced to consider duty versus pride. Varis put the laptop aside, crossed his legs, and rested a hand on his knee and another on the back of the couch. It seems the boy won that round.

Disgusting as it was, Varis felt, dare he say it, excited. Not only did he play his victory off with a quiet confidence, just a bit more training and he could erase even that, he twisted the conversation away from a track that Varis would have likely picked at until the boy bled. It was the faintest twitch, one Varis wasn't even aware of, but an involuntary smile at the corners of his mouth appeared and vanished before his unimpressed expression radiated disappointment once again.

"Of course she has her hands full with other matters. Ryner is one of the primary diplomatic administrators of the entire government and thus, the world. If she didn't have her fingers in twenty different operations, I would walk into the sunlight from the shock. She calls me a workaholic but I've watched her resist sleeping for two weeks and not suffer an iota of fatigue." Varis said dryly but he gestured for the mage to continue anyways. "However, I will indulge this obtuse attempt to redirect the conversation. Go on. We'll discuss how you'll dispose of these offending articles after you spit whatever important information you have to offer."

“There was a murder on campus last night,” Aaron wasted no time. “I spent my morning after curfew apprising myself of the details. Mr. Spellman and Mr. Alderman discovered the body, followed by Mr. Samael. It was drained of all blood from a vampire attack. Apparently the scene was gruesome, though Mr. Spellman was adamant that the wound on the victim’s neck had to have been made by a vampire in their right mind.”

Aaron inwardly cringed at the thought. “The three of them were taken by campus guard to Princess Ryner’s office, apparently to avoid interrogation by Princess Nox, though they claim Her Highness was impersonated by a mind mage. After the illusion was broken, all three went back to Mr. Samael’s dorm, where Salem summoned me to hear the details.”

Varis considered the information. A murder on Ryner’s personal property? Whoever took on that task was clearly an idiot or suicidal with a thirst for vengeance. At least if it was the latter, Varis could respect the decision especially since they were clearly competent. What a waste of potential. With Nox personally on the case, he had little doubt that vampire would be staked for the sun sooner rather than later. Despite their estrangement, this was a clear attack on Ryner and, by extension, the Noila family and Nox was nothing if not protective of their status. Too bad he wouldn’t have an opportunity to invite the vampire to dinner.

“That is interesting. A murder in Noila territory. And then she hid the three prime suspects from her sister’s investigation?” Varis clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “She must have had suspicions about the real culprit and went out to handle the situation herself. How disappointing. I haven’t seen her get into a physical altercation before. I would have loved to see that.” He was more than a little curious why Eris hadn’t immediately contacted him. He doubted the vampire was pleased at having the wool pulled over his eyes with Ryner’s little trick and that sort of thing wasn’t a minor slight.

“If it were any other vampire, I would almost believe the murder was staged. A shocking death is a good way to distract from something. Perhaps I should have one of my contacts look into that anyway.” Varis nodded, making a mental note to set it up when he returned home. And then a wicked little light bulb went on above his head. Ryner handed him a little mole on a plate. “Of course, you’ll tell me everything you hear while at the castle and you’ll make sure to keep a keener ear than you used to. You’re a Sinnenodel mage now, after all, isn’t that right?”

Any lingering satisfaction from his tiny victory fled from Aaron as Varis held his position over him, a ball of discomfort taking its place. Impressed or not, Aaron was painfully reminded of his place, and Varis certainly knew how to twist a knife. A storm of indecision whirled in his head, duty to his new Count - assigned to him by Ryner, no less - conflicting with his lingering loyalty to the Noilas. Secrets and rumours flew around like flies back at the castle, and not even the unspoken ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy that governed the servants could inoculate him to them completely. And now he was asked to go looking for them; who knew what he’d find?

Of course, Aaron reminded himself, it was that lingering loyalty that got him into this mess. Like it or not, Varis was right; he was a Sinnenodel mage now, and he needed to come to terms with that sooner rather than later. Easier said than done. But maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Surely someone at the castle must have anticipated this; it couldn’t come as a surprise that he’d become a Sinnenodel earpiece. Really, with that in mind, it was remarkable that he was being welcomed back at all.

“Yes, Master,” Aaron conceded, defeated. His earring hung heavy from his ear. “I will keep you abreast of the situation.”

“Good. Though I doubt you’ll find anything useful, it won’t hurt to give you a task over the break. No need to see your mind stagnating with the Spellman boy around.” Varis said, dismissing the matter as soon as it was resolved and moving forward. “Was there more information you had to offer or should we continue on with how you’ll make up for your blatant disregard of your new position?”

“Just one more thing, Master. The reason for my lateness, in fact.” Aaron spoke expediently, anxious to get on to whatever demoralizing punishment Varis had in mind so he could get it done and over with. “I mentioned earlier that House Eve has a new representative at the Academy. His name is Count Benjamin; I’ve heard of him a few times before, he's a prominent mage rights advocate, certainly a black sheep of his branch. He took quite an interest in me, though he seemed a little unsure about Ms. Dionne. But that's not the interesting part.”

Aaron shifted on his knees as the other mystery from the night before resurfaced. “When we were talking, Princess Ryner let skip that Countess Mariette’s absence is due to a death in her family. But I've heard of no such death, so it's either very recent or very well covered up.” His eyes flicked up, just for a moment. “Does any of that sound familiar to you, Master?”

Varis frowned at the phrase “mage rights activist”. First a Marivaldi and now a tolerant Eve. As if he didn’t have his hands full handling his Lady’s business in the family as it was. He needed to figure out who he was as quickly as possible but as much as he hated to admit it, it wasn’t a priority. Dracul’s “death” was a matter of urgency and at this point, Varis wasn’t sure if he had the resources to handle another point of interest. Throwing in some family death on the previous Eve’s part, which Varis was willing to bet a walk in the sun Ryner made up some excuse on the fly, and Varis was going to lose his goddamned mind if she didn’t settle the fuck down this instant. He couldn’t help the groan that escaped as he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Frankly, I’m surprised the Eves still have anyone left at the rate they’re dropping.” Varis grumbled. He was concerned that so many mage tolerant vampires were in close proximity to the boy. If even one of them reached out and with the intent of offering succor without Varis knowing, doing his job would become ten times harder. He didn’t want to cultivate any relationships with the plebeians but he may have to assemble a little coetere to keep him in check when Varis wasn’t around. Damn bleeding hearts. At this rate, he was going to stake the damn Princess himself.

“If Ryner let her leave to a death in the family, I’m inclined to believe it. It’ll be something to look into later.” Varis said, dismissing the topic with a wave of his hand. “Though I doubt your precious Princess would appreciate your speculation. A Starag questioning a Noila, I never thought I’d see the day. I’m glad to see you taking your lessons well.” Varis chuckled at the thought.

“As for this Count Benjamin, we’ll see his colors soon enough. It’ll be interesting to see why she chose this one. He clearly has political clout, as poorly directed as his efforts are, but not enough for me to know him. I wouldn’t doubt if Ryner was grooming him into a puppet for later. She is in a unique position to cultivate favors and helping someone rise in their family significantly would put that vampire on a leash for a century or two.” Varis mused and shrugged. “Something to consider later. For now, it’s time we moved onto dealing with your transgressions. Since you performed well enough in your duties as a Sinnenodel mage, I’ll forgive your tardiness. Do not do it again.” Varis said as he leaned forward, catching Aaron’s chin and turning his gaze to the pile of clothes.

“But that transgression I cannot forgive. Your naivety put my reputation at risk and there must be consequences for that.” Varis shook his head in disappointment. “I think it only fitting that it be symbolic of your departure from the House. I want every scrap of fabric from your closet burned to ash. You’ll watch every ember wink out and then you’ll burn anything that survived. That awful outfit from last night will be the last thing on the pyre.” Varis let him go, gesturing to the mask.

“That, however, we’ll deal with now. I think it’s the perfect way to affirm your dedication to your new House. Pick it up, admire it if you want. It is an exquisite piece of work. Think of who sent it to you, what it means that the Noila house cared enough to send it to you, that your family cared enough to send it to you.” Varis said. “And then, I want you to break it right here. Into as many pieces as you can possibly manage and I want you to remember they let you go. Kicked you out from where you were supposed to be without warning into a strange and confusing world without so much as a peep. I want you to remember that despite your many failures, I took you in, I gave you a place,” Varis gently touched the earring, keeping his voice soft and low, empathetic. “I’ve given you direction and a purpose. And despite this slap in the face, I fully intend to continue to do so. One mistake isn’t the end of the world, no matter how great the stumble, but I need your dedication to this. Can you do that for me? For us?”

Varis’ point about questioning the Noilas caught Aaron off guard; how strange, he hadn’t even considered it. Varis was right, it wasn’t like him to question things like that. He figured he was only questioning the source of the information, but he had a point; speculation like that would never fly at home, where everything was governed by a strict unspoken policy of “don’t ask, don’t tell”. Up until this point, Aaron thought he’d been barely stumbling through Varis’ roundabout ‘lessons’ and only (poorly) acting the part, but now had to wonder… was all the espionage actually changing the way he thought?

While he was on the back foot, wondering if the Sinnenodel methods really had begun getting into his head, Varis explained his punishment and just about bowled him over completely. So he was to purge himself of all his Noila-given belongings? Well, he supposed that was almost all of his belongings, but his clothes made up the bulk of them, every article made to measure to exacting Noilan standards and lovingly taken care of. Aaron’s gut twisted at the idea. Destroying all he’d been given felt like treachery, like a slap to the face of the family who gave him so much throughout his life, the family he owed everything to.

The family, as he was painfully reminded by Varis’ next instructions, he thought he’d spend his life trying to repay.

He followed Varis’ gesture, eyes falling to the mask. It really was a beautiful piece of work, glossy black enamel and feathers laden with gold. Regal, elegant, opulent; the very pinnacle of Noilan perfection. Even the crack in the beak only added to its beauty, broken just enough to make it shine. That was how he’d always imagined his upbringing under the Noilas, come to think of it. Like every swing of a switch over a mistake or an insult was a stroke of a sculptor’s hammer, each one expertly molding him a little bit closer to form. The pain was temporary, and he always came out the other side better than he started. Over time, as the corrections grew less and less frequent, he’d thought it was because he was nearing perfection. Lately, though, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was because he was beyond repair.

Maybe he’d gotten lost somewhere along the way, gone by the wayside and fallen short of expectations. Maybe they thought he wasn’t worth the effort of rebuilding, or that he couldn’t fill the sizable footsteps left by his ancestors. Maybe they thought he’d make a better diplomatic tool than an attendant, and figured they could kill two birds with one stone by giving him up. Whatever the reason, Varis was right; they’d thrown him away. But what hurt the most, what kept him up during the day, was that he didn’t know why.

Aaron froze when Varis touched his earring. He sat stone-still, heart pounding like an animal in a predator’s sights, Varis’ soft tone of voice sending a shiver down his spine as he listened. But what hurt and shocked him was that everything Varis said was true. Aaron was embarrassed to admit it, but something in him welcomed Varis’ reassurance and reached out for it, pining for the sort of stability he described. The Count’s methods were torturous, but were they so different from what he was used to? Methodology aside, they seemed to be working. Was it so absurd to think he might fit the Sinnenodel mold better than he fit the Noilas?

The very thought twisted Aaron’s heart in his chest, like he was betraying every Starag who came before him even just entertaining the idea. But what else could he do? Like every other, the choice had been made for him. His place wasn’t with the Noilas - not according to them. They thought fit to uproot him and turn everything upside-down, jettison him off into a world that - just as Varis said - he didn’t understand. That they’d never prepared him for. But worst of all, they took away his chance to carry on his family’s legacy. His whole life’s purpose, as far as he’d been concerned. Without it, he was aimless. He was nobody.

Aaron picked up the mask, resolve flaring in his chest, though he nearly faltered as he cradled it in his lap, admiring the details and running his fingers over the feathers. His mother meant well in sending it, but looking at it now, it almost seemed a mockery, a feeble glimpse at what he could never be. Sure, he could parade himself naively around in Noilan colours for a night, but at the end of it he’d still have to take them off again, wouldn’t he? Take off his face and name while he was at it and turn back into the unrecognizable thing he was now.

But who said he had to stay that way?

Shocking himself, Aaron suddenly snapped the mask in half, and in half again, and again and again with a vigour he didn’t even know he had. Each snap incensed him further, every hour spent tossing and turning and agonizing burning their way to the surface as he worked. By the time he was done, the mask lay littered on the floor at Varis’ feet like confetti, an unrecognizable pile of rubble and feathers. His eyes stung, and a painful lump formed in his throat, but he remained resolute.

“I can try,” he finally answered, voice betraying a conviction he still didn’t quite understand.

Varis watched as Aaron shattered the mask at his feet. Frankly after all Ryner has put him through so far, it was nice to watch her little pet destroy her family’s image so energetically. Cathartic. He felt something in him ease, a worry he couldn’t quite put his finger on, and he smiled. At least something of his plan was going well. The boy clearly thrived on a supportive relationship with his vampire and Varis would definitely exploit that as a plan B. He of all vampires knew not to trust anyone and Ryner screamed caution. Varis brushed his hand down the side of the boy’s face and guided his gaze to meet with Varis. He knew his eyes would be quite clear considering how pleasant the sight of a Starag destroying Noila property was.

“I believe you’ll do much better than try.” Varis kept his voice soft, his tone light, before releasing the boy and resuming his typical briskness. He waved at the mess. “Now, discard this and handle your punishment. Once you’ve done that, meet me in the study. We have plenty of work to do this evening.”

9/23-10/6: Solo

“Would you keep an eye on Salem for a little while?”

Hamish looked up with surprise at Aaron, who was dressed in his riding clothes and cradling a cloth-wrapped wooden box under one arm. He perched a hand on his hip. “Sure, no problem. Where are you going?”

Aaron shrugged, subtly gesturing to the box. “I’m going for a ride in the woods.”

Suddenly understanding, Hamish gave Aaron a knowing look and a solemn nod, gesturing to the door. “Of course. Leave Mr. Spellman to me.”

Aaron nodded and headed to the stables, saddling up his favourite horse, a cream-coloured mare by the name of Star. At first he took the normal riding path, a leisurely, winding trail around the castle grounds and through the most appealing portions of the surrounding forest. Star knew the way well, and Aaron was able to let her lead the way to a point, allowing himself to relax and drink in the crisp forest air, admiring the wealth of nature the grounds had to offer. Fireflies flickered in the bushes amidst moonlight that filtered down through the trees; a cool, fresh breeze whispered through the pines, and once or twice Aaron heard the soft hooting of owls somewhere in the branches, no doubt watching his horse navigate the path below. It was beautiful and soothing, a welcome respite from the bustle of castle life, but tonight, it wasn’t what Aaron came for.

There was a point in the forest where the path came to a bend, curving away from an area of forest that grew thicker than the rest. There, wild young evergreens pressed in on all sides, a stark contrast to the spacious trunks of ancient pines that made up the rest of the trail. The thicket marked the border of the castle grounds, where the undergrowth was no longer kept at bay and left to crowd together, and any sane rider would know to follow the path, as there was no way to traverse such thick foliage on horseback, or even on foot for that matter.

Of course, every castle had its secrets.

Aaron nudged Star in the direction of the thicket, and she turned without argument, uncharacteristically calm. Most horses would balk at being led into what was essentially a wall of trees, but this one knew better; she and Aaron passed through a spot in the foliage without so much as a scratch, the boughs opening up to accept them and closing seamlessly behind them. Salem might be impressed at the plant magic involved, Aaron mused. Too bad he’d never, ever see it.

The trees opened to a less-trodden path, practically a tunnel of firs until it opened up at the mouth of a small clearing. At the back of said clearing, bathed in moonlight, was Aaron’s destination: A small, cubic structure of shining white marble, that had no earthly reason to be there.

Leaving Star to graze in the clearing, Aaron made his way toward the structure with his box, pushing in through a heavy inset door and shoving it closed behind him. Inside, the only light came from a tiny skylight in the ceiling, admitting only a sliver of moonlight, but it was enough for Aaron. Two walls held sconces bearing unlit torches; placing the box he’d brought on a stone bench in the centre of the room, he fished a book of matches out of his pocket and lit them, bathing the room in a warm, yellow glow.

The chamber was constructed entirely out of pristine white marble, square in shape and relatively unadorned, contrary to just about everything else on castle grounds. Along the back wall, though, was the exception: facing the doorway stood an exquisite, life-sized statue of Landar Starag, standing tall at a height of 6’4” and dressed in full Noilan livery. In one outstretched hand, he held a polished censer, and in the other, a carving of a scroll. Behind him on the wall was a hulking tablet of black marble, contrasting the surrounding white, and written upon it in gold script were Landar’s name, his dates of birth and death, and the names of the vampires he served: King Geoffrey Noila and Queen Anastasia Noila. His was the only statue in the room, but the other walls held similar tablets, bearing the names and information of Landar’s wife and children. Aaron knew that behind each tablet, the ashes of each of them were interred in an urn inside the wall, in keeping with an ancient burial ritual Landar had requested for himself and his family before his death. Generously, the Noilas had kept up the tradition with his family ever since, despite the usual vampiric abhorrence of death; thus, this very mausoleum was born.

Slowly and silently, Aaron unwrapped the cloth from the box he'd brought and used it to carefully dust the statue. It was already spotless - someone had been here recently - but that was irrelevant. It was the process that was important, and Aaron worked meticulously, reverently, like he was carefully carrying out some delicate ritual. Which, in a way, he supposed he was. This was what was done out here, a tradition that dated back to when Landar and his family had first been laid to rest.

When he was finished, he set aside the cloth and turned to the box itself, a small oak rectangle set delicately on the mausoleum bench. Opening it revealed a number of small cones of incense set into a bed of felt, and predictably, one of them was missing. He set a cone into Landar’s censer and lit it with a match; his mother always lit it with her magic when she came here, and Aaron remembered looking forward to a day he'd be able to do the same after he Awakened. The memory brought a faint smile to his face as he extinguished the match, depositing it in a small compartment in the incense box to be disposed of later. Things hadn't worked out quite in his favour in that regard, but he had learned to love his affinity even if it meant having to light incense with matches.

And of everything that hadn't worked out as he'd planned, that was the least of his worries.

After a moment, fragrant smoke curled delicately up through the holes of the censer, drifting dreamily through the still air of the mausoleum and encircling the statue of Landar like a protective companion. Aaron breathed deep the warm, familiar scent and finally bowed to the statue, his little ritual complete.

Sitting on the bench before the statue, he looked up at it for a long time, following the tendrils of smoke that surrounded it and the folds of his clothes, all the way up to his grandfather’s stoic expression, eyes fixed on the door rather than whichever of his descendants had come to sit before him.

It always had a way of making him feel small.

Maybe it was because it really did stand three inches taller than him, or because he’d been staring wide-eyed up at it ever since he was little, but sitting in front of it, Aaron always felt… insufficient.

He remembered how, as a child, that stern expression would always make him stand a little straighter, more effective even than those looks from his teachers. It still had that effect on him now, the man he’d become posturing up a little taller. All through his life it had been a habit; even on his saddest and most frustrating nights, nights when he was convinced he’d never do anything worthwhile and wanted to throw it all away, when none of his teachers, his family or even the Noilas could motivate him, the look in his grandfather’s eye always brought him back down to earth, grounding him and reminding him of his place. That storming out wasn’t an option. It wasn’t the Starag way.

A little smirk tugged at Aaron’s lip. The number of times he’d run to this place in a fit of rage or worry was larger than he cared to remember, but it had always done wonders for him. The place was calm; the air was cool, the crypt was quiet. There was a weight to the room, like history itself was pressing down on him, that always managed to calm him when no one else could. When last he'd come out here just hours before his awakening, that weight had stilled the fearful trembling in his hands; when he'd come back out after discovering he really was a mage, that same weight grounded him out of his fit of giddiness and brought him back to quiet dignity. No matter what, this place could always soothe him, bathing him in torchlight and silence and the watchful company of his ancestors.

“A lot has changed since then,” he murmured out loud, shaking his head.

He sat in silence for a moment, contemplating saying something more, but he could hardly get his thoughts straight. So much had happened, and there was so much he wanted to say he didn't know where to start. Eventually, he decided to think on it; there was something else he needed to do here anyway.

He ran a hand along the smooth marble of Landar’s arm on his way to the corner of the room, taking a torch from the wall before kneeling before one of the large marble tiles that made up the floor. Taking a deep breath, he placed his hand flat in the middle of it, closing his eyes. After a second, the tile shuddered in place and began to rise, grinding up out of place until Aaron could catch the edge and pry it up by hand. Beneath it was a tunnel with a ladder, leading down into murky darkness.

Torch in hand, Aaron took the ladder down to a lower chamber, lighting another torch in a sconce at the bottom. This chamber was a mirror of the one above, but larger; tall marble pillars supported the ceiling and the walls were lined with black tablets as before, ancient stone urns bearing the ashes of his ancestors settled neatly before them. Where Landar’s statue should have stood, though, there was a different one; a 6’1” red marble likeness of Geoffrey Noila, with the Noila and Starag crests carved neatly into his hands. The people buried here were almost as ancient as Landar himself, his closest descendants, and there were more levels below, the graves in them getting more and more recent as they neared the bottom.

There were only a few graves on the bottom level that contained people Aaron had ever met, but that didn’t matter. Making his way slowly down through the crypt, he could practically feel his ancestors there, as absurd as the concept might be; it was like he walked among them, countless generations watching as he passed. Some nights that presence felt intimidating, like each urn he passed was judging whether he was worthy to count himself among them; other nights, it was reassuring to think that his ancestors were watching over him.

Most of them had died long before his time, but Aaron knew their names as well as any of his living relatives, and their stories, passed down as bedtime stories from generation to generation, were as familiar to him as his own memories. Even after all this time, it was still hard to shake a feeling of wonder as he walked among the tombs; to him, the Starags of eld were all characters in a grand epic stretching back to the formation of the Treaty, heroes and warriors and loyal servants alike.

Aaron always wondered what part he would play.

Reaching the bottom, he finally found a few graves of people he could remember in his own mind’s eye. There were only two he really knew, though. One was Basil Starag, his great-grandfather who had died when he was quite young; Aaron’s only memory of him was of a very old man with sparkling eyes and a wide smile, lifting him high above his head as a toddler. The next Aaron was much more familiar with: Clytemnestra Starag, his grandmother, who had passed at the beginning of the year. She was nothing like her father; Aaron had largely avoided her once he was old enough to manage it, and she seemed perfectly fine with that. Most of his memories of her were of a cold, harsh stare or a dismissive comment to encourage him to leave her alone. A quiet joke among her daughters was that she was every bit an ice mage, though they always marveled at how the Queen could tolerate having her for an attendant. Clara always joked that her blood must have tasted of piss and vinegar.

A flash of cold resentment surfaced in Aaron, followed promptly by a wave of guilt. But he couldn’t help it; the woman was a bitch, and as terrible as it was, no one was particularly devastated when she died. She would have hated being buried here, too, having shown nothing but contempt for their family’s traditions throughout her life - one of many ungrateful tendencies of hers. And yet, despite her cruel demeanour and muted distaste for… well, everything, she’d been a mage to Queen Anastasia herself for over sixty years.

Aaron could see his reflection in the tablet marking her tomb, and saw his eyes go cold. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been happy she was dead. At long last, he’d thought, an attendant’s position had opened for him to finally take, and for the Queen no less. He’d always thought that Queen Anastasia would have welcomed a happier, more vibrant attendant after decades of chilly indifference from his grandmother, that maybe even if he needed just a little more polishing before he was ready, there would finally be a spot for him at Her Majesty’s side.

Clearly he’d been wrong.

He tore his gaze away from his grandmother’s tomb, forcing himself to walk away before he got more heated. Past her grave were a few more, as yet unfinished: empty tablets lined the walls past Clytemnestra’s grave, along with a few that bore inscriptions, but were incomplete. Aaron went straight to the end of the line, past the tablets bearing the names of his mother and his two aunts, to the last one with a name on it. His.

Every tablet in the crypt was pristine, but his was clearly newer than the rest, having been inscribed and installed only about three years prior. As per tradition, it was put in shortly after his Awakening and inscribed with his name and birth date, the death date and name of his master left blank. He’d been there when it was installed, as a part of the regular ceremony for a Starag’s awakening. He remembered being elated; after so much time spent fretting and worrying about not being a mage and losing the only home he ever knew, he had finally been given reassurance that no matter what, no matter what happened or how difficult things got, he would always have a place here, immortalized in history alongside his ancestors.

A painful lump jabbed at his throat at the sight of it now, something in his chest twisting. Could any of that be relied upon now? Sure, his stone was still here, but he’d learned that it wasn’t the anchor he’d thought it would be. Clearly it had done nothing to cement his place with the Noilas, so who was to say he wouldn’t be tossed into the soil to rot when he died like any other common human rather than cremated and interred here like he was meant to be? He doubted Varis would go to any length to accommodate him after death - would one of the Noilas take care of him in his stead?

Would anyone even care?

The very thought made Aaron sick, and he fled from the chamber as quickly as he could without making too much noise, extinguishing the torches and hauling himself up the ladder. He shoved the floor tile back in place as if some monster from below was coming up after him, and stayed on his knees in the corner for a second, trying to catch his breath.

“Give me strength…” he strained out, choked by a sob threatening to escape.

“How ashamed you must be,” he whispered, hauling himself up shamefully to sit on the bench before his grandfather, head bowed. “I failed them. I failed you.”

The muted tension he’d been feeling since he arrived came out in full force, and Aaron finally let the tears fall, gripping the edge of the bench. “I don’t know how, or why, but I failed.” His body shook with a shuddering breath. “I failed and they threw me away to the snakes!”

Aaron gulped for breath, trying his damndest to shut himself up and stem the flow of nonsense he was spewing. It took a few solid minutes of sobbing to finally calm down, weeks of frustration and uncertainty and pain finally working their way out.

Finally, after a long while, Aaron coughed, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “What a fool you must think I am,” he told the statue, voice gravelly. He looked up at his grandfather, tall and stalwart, and felt small. “Here I am sobbing about my own shortcomings in front of you. How pathetic.”

He shook his head angrily, resentful of his own weakness. He could practically feel Landar judging him, and rightfully so. Who on earth was he to whine about his lot in life in front of him? The man had sacrificed his freedom, his children’s freedom, that of every mage for a cause greater than himself, he’d bent the knee to people he hated for the greater good, and what, Aaron expected him to feel sorry for some poor excuse for a grandson who was unhappy with his new master?

“You’re right,” he agreed, clenching his jaw. He was acting like a petulant child. So what if he didn’t serve the Noilas? So what if he wouldn’t be buried with his kin? None of this was about him, it was about millions of humans who were safe because of his sacrifices, and the thousands of mages who made that same sacrifice every day for the same greater good his grandfather had fought for. His own selfishness blinded him to that fact, but as always, a little trip to see his grandfather made it abundantly clear.

“Thank you.” He stood up in front of the statue, briefly remembering all the times as a teenager he’d measured himself up against it, and steeled his gaze, following Landar’s toward the door. Looking toward the future, as his mother always told him.

What he had to do was get a grip and do the same.

_{Dates: October 8th - November 4th}

10/8: Lilie & Aaron

“Welcome back to Spell Theory 101. I assume you’ve taken this break to reflect on the importance of your schooling and returned refreshed and eager to learn. As I said before our last class, we start applying the theories we’ve reviewed thus far in our first arcane spell: Dark Eyes.” Professor Hayes spoke in the same monotone drawl as he looked over the class. The bags under his eyes deepened over the break, the lines in his frown harsher than before, and his shoulders displayed a weariness he hadn’t shown previously. “Named after its visible physical alteration upon a successful casting, the Dark Eyes spell is a critical tool for any mage dedicated to the service of a vampire. The basic spell grants a mage a temporary heightened sense. Like how a light mage’s eyes naturally adjust to even the poorest light conditions, there still must be some light present. As your mastery over the spell grows, you’ll have the opportunity to learn its modifiers to enhance and alter the spell’s nature. That will come in time and with the appropriate specialization.” Hayes pulled a wand out from his robe and, with a flick of his wrist towards the computer, it flickered to life as did the projector. The screens behind him dropped down and displayed a brief review of some of the topics covered over the past month.

“Before we continue on, we will freshen your memories of a few details we covered before the break. Arcane magic is a form of magic that is separated from the elemental aspect. The incantations and mental exercises that allow us to cast in such a fashion serve to strip the rigidity of our elemental nature and allow us full flexibility with our magic.” He slid his wand back into his robes and looked over the students. “Mages with primary affinities tend to struggle with this. Primary affinities are instinctively intune with their affinity whereas secondary and tertiaries are a step more removed, thus allowing them to separate themselves from their affinity with much more ease.” Hayes took a sip of his water before continuing.

“Now, we left off before the break discussing the different types of arcane magic. In arcane magic, there are two types of spells: Static and Continuous. Static spells are cast and take hold, no longer taxing a mage’s magical reserves. The Lance spell spell, for example, conjurers a bolt of arcane energy that moves straight out from the mage’s front. This bolt, once created, requires no further effort to expend its effect. On the other hand, continuous spells tax a mage’s magical stamina and require active concentration for its effect to persist. Dark Eyes is one such spell. Although the incantation much only be said once, the mental pattern must be held to maintain the effect.” As he spoke, his wand came out again and he flicked at the computer, changing the slides as he discussed each type. It flicked forward one more, a depiction of the Lance spell under both continuous and static. The Static header showed a mage shooting the barely visible bolt while the continuous one showed several of those same bolts suspended in the air around the mage. “Many spells can shift between the two types. In this case, the Lance spell becomes suspended in the air while the mage holds the spell in an attempt to find a more advantageous position. In this situation, the mage must continuously resist the base spell’s effect which takes a toll on the magical reserves. Dark Eyes does not have a developed static form. The last time it was attempted, it melted the eyes of those who developed it."

“Attempting arcane magic requires two components: an Incantation and the Pattern. The Incantation is simple enough, only requiring the appropriate phrase and pronunciation. The Pattern, also known as the Intent, is the mental pattern required to strip away the affinity from your magic. Each spell has a unique pattern that must be kept in your mind and your magic pushed through. Failing to perform either component will cause the spell to fail. An improper incantation won’t result in anything spectacular but a failed pattern will, in more cases than not, cause some form of elemental reaction.” The slide shifted, the four primary elements listed above a series of eyes. Water affinies displayed various amounts of tears, ranging from a slight watering to a complete waterfall. Earth showed dry eyes, the most extreme harsh and cracked. Fire displayed actual smoke from boiling out at the corners and air showed temporary clouding over the eye. “With this spell, none of the effects will harm you and will only last for a few seconds. As you delve into more advanced ones, the consequences of failure become more extreme, so it's always important to properly study your pattern and fix it in your mind before working on the Incantation. You'll have access to a physical reference for the pattern during our exercises that you’ll be able to take to study with outside of class. In the event you lose it, each class sends an updated list of student permissions and will replace it.” The slides shifted and the phrase "Oppolik" and a few other phrases around it.

"Now arcane spells are grouped into sets known as families. These families are spells similar in nature, share the same pattern, and require the same modifiers. The Ward spell, the simplest of protection spells, is a weak shield capable of blocking a single hit or two in order to allow the mage to remove themselves from a bad situation. Its modifiers change the shape and location of the primary shield effect. Watch as I demonstrate. Oppolik." A grey disk the size of a steering wheel materialized in front of Hayes. "Actopplik." The disk doubled in size. "Fleci Actopplik." The disk curved, turning into a partial dome. "Fleci Actopplik Scansis." The shield shifted so it hovered directly above his head before vanishing. "Such is how modifiers work in a family." The slides shifted again, the title displaying Dark Eyes and the imagine of a simple drawn eye with a curled pupil. Beneath it was the phrase “Tiltoure”.

“This is the pattern and incantation for the spell Dark Eyes. Refrain from attempting the spell. We will move into the next room for that. For now, take a moment to consider what you see and fix it in your memory. Are there any questions before we move into the practice portion of the class?" Hayes asked. "I'll discuss the finer details in the next room."

Lilie was entirely unamused by the presentation, a dread hanging over her. Now that the time had actually come for magic, a lot of her previous enthusiasm was balled up in her stomach, making her feel sick. She had gotten to practice a lot of her affinity, but she had known from the very beginning that arcane magic was going to be a struggle. Figures as much, getting a tame affinity with little payoff. She let herself mope a little as she took meticulous notes, often underlining once in a while. She circled the part about primary affinities, her head dropping in defeat for a few seconds before she would take note of the consequences. Ren always said she was a crybaby, so it was kinda funny to see that was the consequence of a failure. But she was a little curious about the difference in static versus constant for a visual spell. Maybe it was because of the constant channeling magic through the eyes? She'd have to put some research into it, scribbling a note to herself as a reminder on the corner of her page.

The shield demonstration was really cool, and she thought she remembered one of Kanalie's friends practicing something like that in the arena. The development of magic and their families grabbed her attention, her hand working like crazy as she continuously scribbled her own thoughts in between the notes given. That Lance spell definitely caught her attention more, though, the thought of slinging thunderbolts at an opponent more tempting than she wanted to admit. Patterns didn't seem too hard, but then again, she had no idea how hard it was actually going to be. Picturing something didn't really sound like a biggie, but she was sure there was probably more to it. She hastily copied the symbol and wrote down the name of the spell followed by the incantation, raising her hand to ask something.

"How do you pronounce that?" Lilie asked.

Hayes stared at her for a moment, pursing his lips. "I'll repeat it in the lab in a moment but I'll say it once. It is pronounced Tihl-toor-ay." Hayes clarified slowly. "No one attempt it yet. A few more questions and then we'll move into the lab."

Admittedly, Aaron struggled to pay attention through the review portion of the lecture; not only had the return of sleepless days and growing stress over choosing an arcane major sucked the energy out of him, but Hayes had a talent for making a very interesting topic sound very… boring. Instead, he took to drawing a series of lazy swoops in the margins of a piece of scrap paper, mind wandering back to his new dream until the bob and weave of Lilie’s cute little puffball pen caught his attention instead.

He did come back to reality when Hayes switched to the topic of the night, sitting a little straighter and watching raptly as the professor showed off a series of shielding spells. Maybe defence would be a good major? If only he could convince himself; unfortunately, recent events made him feel like only one (unappealing) major would suffice.

Aaron grinned to himself when the professor recited the Dark Eyes spell; he knew learning latin as a teenager would come in handy somehow. He waited for Lilie’s question to be answered before holding up his own hand. “I have two questions, if I may,” he asked politely. “First, how does Dark Eyes interact with a light mage’s natural abilities? Is there any indication beyond the spell’s effect that it’s working?”

He glanced at his notes and back to Hayes. “Secondly, can arcane incantations be abbreviated if time is of the essence, or are we tied to lengthy casts?”

“In practice, a light mage gains no benefit from the spell. Their natural ability to adapt to low light environment renders this spell obsolete. There are a few situations in which their instinctive magic is suppressed or otherwise unavailable so it is still a required spell.” Hayes explained. “Our exercises and practicals will include an affinity resistant compound that reacts normally to arcane magic. This ink is known as Viatymbol for the bacteria it is extracted from. Each person will be given a piece of paper with a design written with Viatymbol and expected to use the Dark Eyes spell to determine the symbol. The solution will glow blue on the page.” Hayes looked unamused at the second question.

“You are not to take shortcuts with magic. Ever. Simplifying your incantation risks failing the cast or worse, casting something else entirely.” Hayes said shortly, looking around for anymore questions and when he found none, he continued.

“Now, we’ll move on to the practical exercises. Follow me into the next room.” He exited stage right, a flick of his wand and a door in the wall popped open. He flicked the lights on and revealed a room not unlike their spell mastery class. Tables with two chairs set around them were set in even rows through the dimly lit room. Each table had two pieces of parchment rolled up and a short divider that ran through the two tables. Each piece of parchment had a person’s name written on a small index card in front of them that also had the pattern and spell name on it. Hayes stepped to the end of the room and folded his arms behind his back.

“Find your seats quickly and quietly. For this exercise, each person will alternate between practicing and spotting. Those practicing, keep your pattern fixed firmly in your mind’s eye and visualize your magic flowing through it. Feel free to look at your reference material as necessary and incant firmly and slowly. Eventually, you’ll find the words come more naturally and quickly but for now, control is more important than speed. Your magic may resist at first; this is natural and try to refrain from struggling against it. Like any muscle, your magic may have to build up the strength to withstand the spell.” Hayes waited for people to settle before he continued. “Spotters. Your job will be to look for tells of a successful casting. Black eyes and sudden sensitivity to light are the two mostly easily noticed signs. Once they have, you’ll hold your parchment up for them to read. Once you both have managed to successfully cast the spell consistently, you can verify that your partner was seeing the correct symbol on your parchment. This probably will not happen this class but everyone should be casting successfully within the next few days. Please begin.”

Lilie tried to remember as much as she could, scribbling down notes until the last possible minute before promptly depositing everything into her bag. No abbreviations, pronounce it right, focus. Apparently, this was the time to learn just how behind everyone else she was going to end up. The ball of dread grew, and she ended up taking several long, deep breaths once they transitioned to the next room. She could do this. It was magic. She was born with the ability even though she spent her entire life not knowing she could do it.

Man, she really needed to work on psyching herself up ‘cause she felt worse by the time she sat down.

The one small comfort was sitting next to a familiar face, except that was a complete lie because once the two sat down, the idea of embarrassing herself in front of her best friend dominated her thoughts. Aaron already held her hand through Treaty Law as it was. Was she just destined to suck at everything?

Suddenly feeling very shy, she cleared her throat as she turned to him. “So, um, do you wanna go first?” She asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

Aaron followed into the practice room, a little pang of habitual dread as the furniture brought to mind so many tense exchanges with Salem in Affinity Mastery. But tonight, he had much more pleasant company, though he wasn’t blind to the fact that she seemed a little out of her element. At first he thought she might have just been homesick coming off the break, but by the way she spoke when they sat down, maybe it was the magic she was worried about.

He offered her a comforting smile, pretending not to notice her unease. “Sure, I can go first.”

He took a moment before attempting his cast to set out the necessary materials, taking his card in hand and smoothing out the provided parchment on the table. Like Professor Hayes had said, his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting immediately, so his vision was clear; the parchment, however, remained blank. At least that would serve to tell him whether he succeeded or not.

He studied the pattern on the card for a moment, picturing what it would feel like to guide his magic along that path. It looked like it should be easy; light didn’t appreciate bending, but all of his affinity practice involved guiding his magic into a circular path for the light to follow. Same concept here, right? He’d been making spirals for weeks, he was practically an expert.

When he closed his eyes and tried to do it, though, Aaron was met with unexpected resistance. His magic had never resisted him before; it had always been malleable and eager to please, its ‘will’ reflecting his own. But guiding his magic through the Dark Eyes symbol felt like herding crows; as soon as he thought he got part of it down, a different section sprang away from him, apparently unwilling to sit still. More than once he felt the familiar urge to draw in light from around him, almost doing it once or twice but managing to resist.

After about a minute of fighting with it, he could feel the effort of wrangling his magic grow taxing. Still, he couldn’t let himself give up without at least one full try, so he got his magic as situated as he could manage and recited, clearly and slowly, “Tiltoure.”

His pronunciation was perfect, but as soon as the word left his mouth Aaron saw a painfully bright flash and his vision clouded with a large, blotchy afterimage. “Oh dear, I’m blind,” he chuckled good-naturedly, eyes open wide as he tried to blink away the splotches. Unbeknownst to him, his eyes were glowing yellow again, like they did when he practiced with his affinity. Still, he had to grin. “I don’t think that worked out.”

Lilie watched Aaron, though after a moment, she realized that nothing was going to happen until he spoke. Maybe he was focusing? Right, focus was a big part of it. She waited until he finally made an attempt, shrinking back a little as she noticed his reaction.

"I think you used your affinity," She told him. "Your eyes glowed."

Aaron chuckled, shaking his head and blinking rapidly. “Maybe,” he admitted. “I can get my magic to follow patterns just fine for that, but I think it wasn’t too fond of an arcane spell and reverted to old habits.”

He made it seem so easy, but he still failed. Well, the professor said to expect it, so it wasn't that bad to not get it right away. Lilie tried to subtly inspect Aaron, noticing his blinking. She wondered what the rebound did to him. Taking a quick look around, she could hear a few others giving it a go as well, several different kinds of reactions all ending in failure, too.

She turned back to Aaron. "Feel like giving it another go?" She asked.

Looking around rapidly as his vision started to clear, Aaron shook his head again. “I think I’ll let you go next,” he offered. “To be honest, it’s… surprisingly taxing.”

Oh no. Lilie thought she would have more time before trying! She forced a smile and nodded anyway, turning to her own parchment. Slowly unrolling it, she laid it flat on the table, her nerves creeping up on her. Okay, she could do this. This was just a door to a lot of other things, there was no need to worry about it. One step at a time, and she would have control. Nothing bad was going to happen. No one was going to get hurt.

With card in hand, Lilie brought her left index and middle finger together as she traced the pattern physically. At least that part didn't seem hard. Her magic bent easily, mimicking the movements of her fingers and giving her a much needed boost of confidence. Okay, now time to try.

Taking in a breath again, Lilie's face scrunched up in concentration. “Tiltoure.” She probably said it quieter than she should have, but she didn't even get a chance to brace herself as a stinging sensation shot through her eyes. Squeezing her eyes shut, her free hand flew to her face, and to her surprise, she felt several tears flowing down her cheeks. It was even more than when she cried hard! Was this normal? She put down the card on the table as she tried to rub her eyes, the stinging ceasing, but the tears still flowing for a few more seconds.

When she finally looked up and at Aaron, she looked like she had exploded into sobs without any usual redness of puffiness. "Uh--Uh I don't--oww…" She rubbed her eyes again, letting out a tiny whimper.

The tears threw Aaron for a loop, but he reminded himself that it was just a side effect of her affinity. Still, he didn’t like to see Lilie in tears. He pulled a clean handkerchief from his pocket - now sporting the Sinnenodel crest after Varis’ little wardrobe makeover - and offered it to her.

“Just like in the picture,” he commented, trying to keep things light. It was nothing to be ashamed of, after all. “It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

Lilie shook her head, opening and closing her eyes a few times until it went away. Exhaling a long breath, she gratefully took the handkerchief. "It's like cutting an onion," She explained, wiping her cheeks dry and carefully dabbing at the corners of her eyes. "I used to hate dicing a lot of them, they always made me tear up and I'd have to take a small break just so I could see."

Aaron nodded, though admittedly he didn’t have a clue what that felt like. When had he ever had occasion to cut an onion? He knew how to fry eggs, toast toast, and pop popcorn, but that was about it.

“Oh, yeah, that’s the worst,” he lied, feigning understanding. It was simple little moments like these where he really felt the consequences of his sheltered upbringing. “Peppers do that to me too, it’s so annoying.”

Lilie blinked a few times, her mouth slightly opened, but after the moment ended, she burst into a fit of giggles. She quickly covered her mouth as she noticed how loud she was, shaking her head at Aaron. "That's...that's a good one," She admitted as she calmed down, her grin wide. "You're so funny!"

As she calmed herself and looked down at the handkerchief, fingers tracing the stitched symbol. It had a nice silver color to it, different than the other blue one that he had lent her before. Her expression fell slightly as she noticed that it didn't have the Noilan symbol on it, instead it had the Sinnenodel one. It was then that she realized she never did return the blue one, or even the gold one that he had lent her after they had gone to the arena!

"Oh no, did you run out of the other ones?" She asked, feeling guilty as she showed him the symbol.

Aaron forced a laugh as Lilie did, jotting down a mental note that he was probably wrong and that peppers probably didn’t make people cry and eagerly moving right along. He watched her examine his new handkerchief, spinning his ring.

“Oh, no no,” he half-lied; he didn’t exactly run out, but he didn’t exactly have them anymore either. “Master just took the opportunity over break to… update my wardrobe.” Yeah, that was a gentler way of putting it than telling her that Varis made him burn the clothes he came with. Aaron painted on a smile and opened his arms, showing off his new clothes. He’d chosen the most formal outfit he could come up with tonight, a black button-up and slacks, though he knew sooner or later he’d have to ease himself out of his comfort zone and into the more casual clothes Varis insisted he wear. “I’m practically a new man.”

Her lips formed a small 'o' as she looked him up and down. His outfit was darker than she was used to, but it still suited him nicely. It was flattering to his already good figure, and while it completely contrasted his usual colors, she found herself liking it. There was a thought that maybe his count was trying to bring his fashion sense to this century, but she kept that to herself. As she met his eyes, she nodded in approval. "Good thing you're hot enough to look good in anything," She teased, pulling at the collar of her own blouse.

At least Count Sinnenodel got Aaron flattering clothes, she looked like she just came home from one of those stuffy private schools. The black turtleneck covered her from wrist to neck, the brown, billowing skirt easily reaching her ankles. Even the Eve pendant reminded her of one of those rich old ladies who liked to drink wine and gossip. Aaron’s comment on castle attire was something her count decided was a great idea, the outfit making her feel ancient. Oh well.

For now, she brushed it aside as she crossed one leg over the other, her hand fiddling with the silver pendant she had been gifted. Her thumb ran over the rubies as she sighed. "At least thanks to you I talked to the count and I'm getting some stuff that isn't so plain," She told him cheerfully, lightly dabbing at her eyes with her free hand. "I know you probably agree with him, but I really don't want to look like I'm sixty years old. I'm only eighteen!"

Aaron’s ears burned at the compliment, and suddenly he felt much less disdainful of his wardrobe changes. The mention of Lilie and Count Benjamin working things out lifted his spirits further, too; he really didn’t think the Count had cruel intentions at heart, and he was secretly glad that Lilie was coming to terms with dressing appropriately for a mage of her station. Still, he couldn’t help but laugh at her comment.

“If you thought those clothes made you look sixty, you must have thought I was two-hundred!” he joked, fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve. He realized he was beginning to sound like Varis, going on about how his Noilan clothes were outdated, but this time it didn’t feel as… mean. “I’m happy the two of you could reach a compromise.”

"Only thanks to you," Lilie replied sincerely, her expression dropping a touch as she looked down at the handkerchief. If only her brother could agree. But she didn't want to think about that right now, instead deciding to confess to her crime. "And...I haven't been the best friend to you. I keep stealing your handkerchiefs and never returning them!" She smiled bashfully. "I still have the blue one from Revel and the gold one from when we saw each other at the arena. You're gonna have to start charging me or something for always keeping them!"

Lilie’s gratefulness did nothing to stem the flush in Aaron’s ears, but he allowed himself only a moment to savour it before tucking it away to be reflected upon later. Her admission brought his grin back, and he laughed, shaking his head.

“Don’t worry about it,” he insisted, holding up a hand. “I certainly have no shortage of them.” Not to mention that Varis would have a fit if he caught him with Noila colours again. Besides, there was something… gratifying about knowing Lilie held on to something of his.

"I take it you both have sufficient mastery over the Dark Eyes spell?" Hayes interrupted, looking decidedly unimpressed at the pair's sudden interest in socializing. "And if you haven't, I would request you return your focus to the task at hand. I doubt our audience up above is as interested in your social life as they are your magical progress. Let's see a demonstration, Mr. Starag, and then we'll see how Ms. Dionne is doing."

Lilie jumped in place, clearly not expecting the professor, and she gave him a sheepish look. "I'm sorry, sir, we just needed to recharge a little," She tried to explain. "I wasn't expecting it to backfire so hard."

Aaron was startled too, and a lifetime of teachers with rulers and sticks made him sit a little straighter and speak a little clearer. That, and the reminder that Varis was up somewhere in the stands, judging his every move. “Yes, beg your pardon. We just got a little side-tracked.”

Clearing his throat, Aaron took up his index card again, focusing hard on the symbol. With the pressure on, he found his magic more willing to cooperate, though it still vibrated with excited unrest as he tried to guide it through the pattern. “Tiltoure.”

While this cast was painless and lacking the eye-glowing from before, it still wasn’t successful. Instead, all colour drained from the room, and the parchment on the table remained decidedly blank. “Not quite, but better than before…” Aaron admitted, looking up at a black-and-white Hayes. “My magic seems a little preoccupied, but it’s starting to cooperate.”

Hayes’ expression didn’t change. “All the more reason to continue practicing. Ms. Dionne, if you would.”

The girl sat up immediately when addressed, quickly snatching up the index card. Should she do the same thing and try to get advice? But repeating her mistake would be pretty embarrassing. Her two fingers traced the symbol, giving her a feel for it, but she had no idea what to do differently. Even now, it all felt familiar, but that couldn't be right. Her affinity let her magic flow freely so that wasn't a problem, but it was almost like a really clingy friend that wanted to go with her everywhere. Maybe she could try pushing it away?

Despite knowing it would end in failure, Lilie braced herself this time. She placed the index card down, her fingers drawing the pattern before she uttered, “Tiltoure.” She visibly winced as she squeezed her eyes shut again, using Aaron's handkerchief to try to stop some of the tears coming out.

“Failure is the harbinger of success. Focus and determination are the key to successfully separating your affinity from your magic. Needless social distractions can wait until you’ve exited my classroom.” Hayes said, continuing more quietly. “Next time you need a moment to compose yourself, I suggest you keep the topic of your conversation firmly in this classroom and on the spell at hand. I understand teenagers have a propensity for indecorous conversation but I’m sure you both understand your positions demand a higher degree of composure.”

“Now Ms. Dionne,” Hayes voice raised to normal levels once as he changed the subject, “I take it your second attempt was nearly identical to your first? Would you please walk me through your experience?”

Sheepishly keeping her gaze on the desk whenever she didn’t have tears pouring out, Lilie threw Aaron an apologetic look. She wasn’t used to getting in trouble, but of course Professor Hayes was right. Goodness, she needed to get a hold of herself, she was a good noodle! When he raised his voice, Lilie reluctantly looked up at him.

She put Aaron’s handkerchief down and picked the index card back up, placing her fingers on the pattern. “Um, yeah. But I don’t really know what I’m doing wrong,” She admitted, tracing the path. “I can feel my magic going in the direction I want, but then the spell is just...not working.”

"It seems you're treating this like your affinity mastery class. Your magic shouldn't feel comfortable when you cast it. It should be struggling or feel bland at first." Hayes frowned as he considered it. "Some water students in the past have found visualising the aids as filters rather than traceable patterns helps like when you separate impurities from water. Your magic stays in the pattern while the affinity drains away on the other side."

Lilie stared blankly at Hayes as he spoke. What? Wasn't it the same? Her gaze slowly dropped to the index card as she bit her lip. She figured this is what the textbooks and lessons talked about. Well, she wasn't the first primary student, so obviously this was just something she had to do.

With that in mind, Lilie scrunched up her face in concentration. So all she had to do was what she had been doing, just without her affinity. As the thought crossed her mind, though, she found her magic actively resisting her. Her eyes widened before she narrowed them, focusing on the path, but it was like her affinity was forcibly tagging along. That couldn't be right, could it? Was she doing something wrong?

"It won't let me," She muttered, shoulders tensing as she struggled. "It's like...it's being super clingy!"

"Primary affinities do display an increased resistance to arcane magic. The instinctual connection works against you here. Now that you've found the proper path, you'll just need to continue practicing until your magic doesn't fight you constantly." Hayes confirmed. "Continue practicing and stay on task. Understood?"

Lilie visibly deflated. So this is the primary affinity struggle. She should’ve known it was too easy to go through the pattern. She quietly nodded and offered no response, deciding to focus on the pattern on the index card. Well, they definitely wouldn’t get in trouble for talking now—Lilie did not want to fall behind. She wasn’t going to settle on anything less than perfection, and she wasn’t going to let something stupid like her own dumb water magic stop her.

Aaron was glad that Hayes directed his attention to Lilie, that little reprimand having brought the heat back to his ears once more as he redirected his attention to his index card, doing his best not to look as embarrassed as he felt. It reminded him far too much of the lectures Count Julian used to give him as a teenager when he caught his gaze lingering too long on female staff, hammering in the importance of maintaining a comportement appropriate for his station and keeping his ‘urges’ in check. Aaron suppressed a shudder. No matter how many times he’d heard it - and he’d heard it a lot - it never got any less uncomfortable. Inwardly he slapped himself. Hadn’t he left this childish ogling behind in his teen years?

After using Hayes’ conversation with Lilie to collect himself, Aaron nodded up at the professor. “Understood,” he confirmed quietly. He continued to study his pattern until Hayes had occupied himself at another table.

“I think I’ll give it another try,” he said, taking a deep breath. By now he had the pattern memorized; all that was left was to convince his magic to calmly go through it.

Chastened by Hayes’ reprimand, Aaron closed his eyes and took a more stern approach to his magic this time, ultimately pleased by the result. His magic simmered down considerably, following the path set out for it with relative ease and this time, without tugging so much at the light around it. He could still feel a restlessness, but it was much more subdued, and it felt as if his magic was starting to ‘click’ with the idea of operating sans affinity. “Tiltoure.”

Aaron didn’t feel any backlash this time, but when he opened his eyes, the room looked just as it had before. He was ready to let go of his concentration in disappointment until he glanced to the parchment. To his surprise - and satisfaction - it was no longer blank, instead sporting an ornate drawing of a tree with a wide canopy and outstretched roots.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, glancing rapidly between Lilie and the parchment, “I think I got it!”

Lilie had been so absorbed in trying to make some progress that she jumped at Aaron’s exclamation, eyes wide as she looked at him. As soon as she registered what he said, a mix of excitement and disappointment clashed together. He got it already? She couldn’t even get her magic to cooperate past the first curve!

Catching herself, she lowered the index card to her lap. “That’s great!” She congratulated him, slightly taken aback by his eyes. Shoot, that was actually a little scary! “Ah...you have the eyes and everything, too.” She confirmed, squinting. “Does...does it hurt?” She knew it was a silly question, but goodness, it looked so off.

Aaron glanced excitedly around the room as Lilie spoke, eyeing symbols on parchments from nearby tables happily. At the mention of his eyes, he pulled out his phone and turned on the front-facing camera, wanting to get a look at himself. What he saw—his own face unchanged but for his eyes having turned pitch black—actually startled him.

“Oh, wow,” he breathed, turning his face this way and that with eyes on the screen. Yep, he could definitely see where the spell had gotten its name. It was creepy; he’d seen his eyes fully yellow before from using his affinity, but he’d never seen just the iris change, and certainly not to black. He offhandedly remarked how this was what he would probably look like if he was a vampire and angry, though he pocketed his phone at that discomforting thought.

Looking back up to Lilie, he shook his head. “No, not even a little,” he assured her, offering a smile. “It’s interesting, though,” he continued, “everything looks exactly the same as before, the only difference is the symbol.” He tapped the parchment.

She followed his tapping before slowly looking back at the index card. He got it so fast. Why wouldn’t her magic just listen? Of course, she knew the answer to that, as her fears were ultimately coming true. It was disheartening, but it couldn’t be helped, she supposed.

Narrowing her eyes, she decided to try again. Pulling her magic along felt like trying to swim with someone actively pulling her down. Her affinity just would not let her do anything without it! It was actually starting to get on her nerves, feeling like she was playing tug-of-war with a really strong, immature child. No matter how much she pulled, she felt just as much resistance. Trying not to pull so much gave the same amount of pulling back, so that didn’t help.

Despite her frustration mounting, she made a last ditch attempt at a cast. “Tiltoure--ow!” She winced, nearly doubling over. Oh, that one hurt a lot more than last time. She blinked repeatedly as she rubbed her eyes, letting out a sigh. “I’m not very good at this.” She mumbled.

Lilie’s shout made Aaron lose his concentration, and a soreness like eye strain bloomed behind his eyes as the spell suddenly dropped. Squeezing his eyes shut for a second, the pain was quick to fade, and he turned his attention to Lilie.

“Try not to be discouraged,” he told her gently. “Like the professor said, it’s to be expected. You just need a little time.”

Slowly blinking, Lilie looked at Aaron with one eye while she held the other one closed. Too much pulling and that would happen. That failure hurt, though she wasn’t sure if it was the physical pain or her own ego that was hurt more. She let out a slight huff, slowly nodding as she looked back down and waited for the pain to subside.

“If I take my time, I’m going to fall behind,” She told him as she kept her eyes closed. “I mean, I’m already behind as it is. I just have to try harder.” She insisted.

Aaron shook his head. “You can’t rush this sort of thing,” he patiently insisted, subtly noticing the irony. He’d been the same way when he first Awakened; he could understand the urgency, but it was ultimately for nought.

“My aunt has a primary-presenting affinity and she had trouble with arcane magic too,” he mentioned, hoping an example from a family like his might help Lilie not to feel self-conscious. “It will come, but if you push too hard you’ll only hurt yourself.”

Lilie slowly opened her eyes to look at Aaron, although she averted her gaze for a moment. It was hard to admit it, but she felt like she had something to prove, like she was here for a reason. Not helping matters was the small voice in her head telling her that she needed to keep up with Aaron, and she would be lying if she said there wasn’t a tiny ounce of her that had hoped she would have had the edge here. But that was not the case; once again, he bested her. Oh well.

“Yeah, I’ll try to slow down, that really hurt,” She said, returning to her first exercise and slowly tracing the symbol with her fingers as she pulled her magic along at a slower pace. She paused for a moment as a thought occurred to her, wondering if she should ask, but she didn’t want to get them in trouble. She quickly looked around to make sure Professor Hayes wasn’t close before asking, “If I never catch up...do you think they’ll throw me away?”

Aaron was taken aback, the unexpected question stirring a few of his own anxieties to the surface. Part of him had no idea where Lilie would get such an idea. Did mundane schools expel students who didn’t meet academic standards or something? Or was she worried about her House rather than the Academy? His knee-jerk reaction was to tell her that no, of course they wouldn’t, that even mages who couldn’t ever control their affinity were outfitted with obsidian safety collars rather than tossed to the wayside outright; unfortunately, what with his own circumstances… well, sometimes he didn’t know what to believe.

But he wouldn’t tell her that. That was more a ‘him’ problem than anything.

“Of course not,” Aaron told Lilie instead, his tone hushed, but unequivocal. “Princess Ryner hand-picks every student in her academy, and she would sooner stake herself for the sun than forsake a single one of them.” That he did know to be true. “You were brought here for a reason, and a little delay in arcane magic isn’t going to change that. Plus, I doubt you have anything to fear with your Count either.”

He offered Lilie a comforting smile, but leaned a little forward and glanced pointedly to the observation balcony, hoping Lilie would get the message. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Still, it’s probably best to keep those concerns out of these classrooms, okay?”

Lilie wished she could say that she was comforted, but she honestly completely forgot about the observation balcony. Her face flushed red with embarrassment, pointedly looking back down at the index card and repeating her tracing. “...R-right. I'll just...keep practicing...” She sighed. Great, like Count Benjamin needed another reason to think she was hopeless. She didn’t dare look up, focusing entirely on the pattern. Honestly, she couldn’t admit that she secretly hoped being a bad mage meant she got to go home, but maybe that was too much to ask for.

But what possible reason could the princess want her here for?

She shook her head at herself, disguising it as a little frustration at her uncooperative magic. If she started thinking about that again, she was going to give herself another panic attack. Going home wasn’t an option, so she would just have to try. She wondered if slowly pulling her magic along would be easier. She couldn’t tell if it was more or less effective, still feeling the resistance. Stupid water affinity. If Aaron could do it, then that meant she should be able to get it by now, too.

“I’m going to try again,” Lilie said, concentrating to the best of her ability. “Can’t let you make me look bad!” She joked, squinting at the card. Slowly, she pulled her magic through the pattern again, focusing on pulling it away from her affinity. “Tiltoure.” She muttered, bracing herself for the inevitable sting. At the very least she wasn’t gushing tears anymore, but clearly she wasn’t using enough magic.

Aaron chuckled at the joke and went back to practicing as Lilie did. It seemed his magic had figured out the arcane thing, no longer resisting separating from his affinity and flowing through the pattern readily. His next cast was successful again, and this time Aaron held it longer, noting the subtle difference in how it felt to maintain an arcane spell rather than an affinity exercise. After about a minute or two, he felt his stamina start to slip, and noticed the same pressure behind his eyes as he had when he’d dropped the spell by accident the first time. It interested him how much more taxing it felt to maintain the arcane spell compared to affinity magic; he could reliably get through an entire one-on-one session of Affinity Mastery with minimal fatigue, and was getting stronger every night, while this spell had tired him in a matter of minutes. Still, he was heartened by his existing improvement. If that was any indication, he imagined his stamina would pick up pretty quick here, too. All the better if Varis was going to be watching.

10/18: Ben & Aaron

Second Impression

Aaron checked the time purely out of habit; it was the middle of the night on Saturday and he’d gotten his duties out of the way early, with nothing left on his schedule but one last errand before a morning of doing his best to study. But he was used to keeping to a schedule, doing things in a timely fashion, and in his state, sliding into routine and checking things off a mental list was a welcome distraction.

For the time being, he focused on his task: washing dishes. It was a chore he never particularly minded—really, the only chore he especially disliked was ironing—though tonight was a bit of a mixed bag. Usually he enjoyed tedious work like this, as he found turning his mind off and going through the motions relaxing, but tonight the mindless work seemed to do the opposite. Whenever his mind wandered, it always wandered to the same place: A sunlit manor with a bubbling fountain and a familiar face, buried deep and unwelcome in the woods in his head. Every time he heard Varis mumble to himself from where he was grading papers in the study, he saw that horrible masked figure in the candlelight, heard that same voice whisper frightening nonsense to him in a pagoda on the beach. And each time he tried to tear his mind away and refocus, he could feel the stress wear on him a little more, unable to shake the feeling of wrongness in his head.

Setting the last cup aside to dry, Aaron reached for the last dirty dish, bigger than the rest. It was Lilie’s cake platter, still dirty with a few crumbs and a bit of strawberry icing, and when he saw it, Aaron finally came out of his head a little to smile. It had been so thoughtful of her; he’d mentioned offhandedly that his birthday was coming up and the next thing he knew, Lilie was on his doorstep on the 15th with this beautiful strawberry cake. Even more astounding was that Varis had let him keep it. He looked like he’d been ready to tell Aaron to throw it out until the scent hit him, and he agreed to let Aaron keep it so long as he could get rid of it in a timely fashion. That was certainly no problem. The thing was delicious.

Aaron smirked. Apparently he hadn’t been the only one to think so. He knew Varis liked the smell of sweets, but what he hadn’t expected was to find a swipe of icing missing and the Count retching in his bathroom, insisting he was fine. Aaron almost wanted to convey the compliment to Lilie—it wasn’t every baker who could entice a pureblood to try eating—but he figured it was best to save Varis the embarrassment. He had plenty of mortal praise to heap on her anyway.

Setting aside the rest of the dishes to dry and be polished later, Aaron drained the sink and dried the cake platter by hand, ensuring there were no streaks before going to change. He’d slowly been getting accustomed to his new wardrobe, and as much as his troubling encounter with Hannah made him want to crawl right back into his old habits, conservative suits in mild colours were sadly no longer an option. Instead, he decided to try and be a little daring, remembering how Lilie seemed to like the new, more ‘stylish’ changes. Maybe she’d like a pair of dark jeans and a short-sleeved button-up, too.

…Maybe with a vest. He was going to a Count’s dorm, after all.

He stole a glance in the mirror as he left his room and concluded that while he did look a little tired, it could probably be written off as him putting a little extra effort into affinity practice or something. Which he had, although the faint circles under his eyes would be more accurately attributed to the days of fitful sleep he’d been suffering since his meeting. Though, honestly, she might not even notice. Since coming to the Academy, fatigue had become a recurring feature on his face.

He got little more than a hum in acknowledgement when he informed Varis through the study door that he’d be heading next door for a few minutes, and without further delay Aaron was on his way. He climbed the steps to the Eve dorm with more enthusiasm than he’d enjoyed in some time, but took a second (as he always did) to put on his polite face before he knocked.

There was a moment of time before the door opened courtesy of Benjamin Eve. The previously concentrated expression fell to an ill-conceived joy, the count composing himself a few seconds later than he should have. He assumed that he would be receiving a package, but the visitor on his doorstep was much more welcome. The young Starag looked a little worse for wear, perhaps in need of a decent night's sleep, but his more casual attire pointed to being off duty. Or at least, that was his assumption.

"Good evening, Mr. Starag," Ben greeted him kindly. "How do you do?"

The Count behind the door took Aaron by surprise, though it seemed at the feeling was mutual. Aaron collected himself a little quicker than the Count seemed to, though, and offered the vampire a bow.

“Good evening, Count Benjamin,” he greeted politely in turn, “I’m well, and you?”

He snuck a quick glance past the Count into the dorm before returning his attention, surprised to see no sign of Lilie. Of course, maybe he shouldn’t have been. If Lilie were home, surely it would have been her answering the door.

“Pardon me for disturbing you, I thought Lilie was in,” he explained, producing the cake platter. “I was just looking to return this to her.”

Ben recalled the making of the pastry as he had walked into the madness that was baking in the kitchen. For some reason, that level of disaster coming from the neat mage had been a sight to behold, but that was neither her nor there. He was surprised that the recipient hadn't returned the platter with cake in hand but he supposed even the Sinnenodel count couldn't find fault in the fruity flavored dish. Nonetheless he was glad for the mage's timely arrival, even if it was obvious who he was here for. Perhaps he could tempt him into coming into the dorm with something? It was as good a chance as any, after all, but he feared without his mage around, he would soon rather drop off the platter and take his leave.

"It's no trouble at all," Ben replied slowly, looking back into the dorm. What could he say to help convince him? He could not offer him a cup of blood, but he could offer him something else! "I don't suppose I could ask for a small favor from you, could I?" He suddenly asked, invigorated by the idea.

Aaron was admittedly a little taken aback, and for a moment almost refused. Things hadn’t ended well the last time Count Benjamin asked something of him, though Aaron couldn’t blame him for that. He’d dug his own hole that time, but this time he didn’t have a curfew creeping up on him, or really much of a time limit at all. And he supposed it wasn’t that strange a request; maybe Count Benjamin just wanted him to relay a message to Varis.

He checked his watch, more out of habit than anything. “Oh, I suppose,” he replied, looking up at the Count. “What can I do for you?”

Ben tried not to show his excitement at Aaron's acceptance as he kept his cool. He placed both hands behind his back in an attempt to show some pause, crinkling his expression. "Well, you see, I've come across a new hobby that is proving exceedingly difficult," He decided he would explain himself so as not to make it an obligation; he truly meant well and would rather have some semblance of trust between the two. "I've been trying to learn how to make tea." The announcement was a touch more grandiose then intended.

Aaron’s eyebrows raised a touch, though he was as careful as ever to keep his responses measured in noble company. First Varis with frosting, and now Count Benjamin with tea; was this normal for young purebloods? Aaron thought he knew the ins and outs of vampires, more or less, but this was new.

“Oh, how interesting,” he replied smoothly, holding back his curiosity for the moment. Curiosity, and the overwhelming oddness of the situation at large. “Is that what you’d like me to help with?”

Ben had probably just made a fool of himself, only just realizing how the entire affair must have sounded. A pure blood had no use for anything that wasn't blood. He could feel Aaron's interest slipping quickly. There must be something more convincing he could use. "Indeed. Of course, I understand if you would rather not," He spoke slowly as he bought himself a little time, coming to a decision on the fly. "But I can only ask for mortal help at this point. I would ask my own mage, but it wouldn't be prudent to spoil the surprise." That wasn't entirely a lie, either; he did initially decide to take a stab at tea-making for her sake, but she had openly spoke of how odd that decision was. But it would be beneficial if he did succeed!

“Oh, I see.” Now that made a lot more sense. Aaron still found it a little bit odd for a Count to go to such trouble for his mage, but given what he’d heard of Count Benjamin as an advocate for mage rights, not entirely unexpected. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Count.”

Aaron teetered on the edge of a decision for a moment. Varis had made clear his disdain for donating time—his time, as he was so fond of reminding him—with no promise of recompense, but… maybe he could justify it as repayment for the cake. Not wanting Count Benjamin to feel like something was owed to him. Yes, that would work nicely. One kindness for another, and no one left indebted.

Mind made up, Aaron nodded. “How can I help?”

Ben stepped back as he gestured inside the dorm. "You could be my tester as a start," He joked.

Aaron grinned, dipping his head and following the Count inside. Again, it was strange to be in another noble’s dorm, but at least this visit lacked the palpable awkwardness of the last one. A tiny fear that he was about to be poisoned nagged at the back of his head, but Aaron doubted any tensions between House Eve and Sinnenodel were severe enough to kill him over, especially considering that would also antagonize the royal family, and House Eve was certainly not stable enough to withstand that.

At least, Aaron thought it would anger the Noilas; these nights, though, he found he couldn’t be sure.

He pushed that thought aside with the others and accompanied the Count to the kitchen, placing the cake platter on the counter before giving Benjamin his full attention. “Okay…” he began, realizing he wasn’t entirely sure how to initiate this sort of exchange. He was very used to receiving instruction from vampires, but definitely not the other way around. “Is… there any particular part of the process giving you trouble, Count Benjamin?”

Ben carefully walked around Aaron and to the stove where the latest cup sat, still steaming. He took it and offered it to the mage. "I believe the instructions stated that the best way to make tea is to boil the water and then to soak in the leaves afterwards," He said, explaining his process. "Some places suggest grounding out the leaves, others state placing them into tiny bags is best, but I felt I would try with the entirety of the leaf in order to enrich the water with flavor." He seemed proud of himself as he spoke even though he had absolutely no idea which way was actually best.

Aaron took the cup, nodding as Count Benjamin spoke. The tea he was given was weak, leaves still swirling and free of any kind of filter. Ah-ha. Aaron wasn’t much of a tea drinker himself, but his mother and one of his aunts practically made a hobby out of it ever since they started having weekly get-togethers with William, and he’d picked up a working knowledge of tea from their conversations. At the very least, he knew enough to tell that the Count had his work cut out for him.

“I see,” Aaron said slowly, still examining the cup for a moment before looking back up. “Well, grinding certainly isn’t necessary; the leaves you have here seem fine. Whether you bag them or not is personal preference, but you’ll want to filter the leaves from the tea somehow, either with a fibre bag or a metal strainer. Otherwise drinking it can feel like eating grass.” He chuckled a bit, but remembered himself, a little self-conscious. Was he over-explaining? It wouldn’t do to insult the Count’s intelligence, but he really did seem clueless on the topic.

Best to move along. “What variety of tea is this?”

Ben was attentive to the criticism received; he hoped he had something positive to bring, but alas, it seemed he had much to learn. This was, of course, a positive for the moment, as Aaron felt the need to explain how to properly blend the flavor into the water. He matched Aaron's chuckle, as he had definitely thought it odd that mortals would enjoy what was essentially water with leaves. But he did see Lilie drink a cup, and apparently it was popular enough, and so there they were.

He took the package of leaves in hand and squinted at it as he tried to remember the name of the leaves. "I believe these are dried white peony leaves, they're commonly served among the mages under me," He recalled placing the order. "I read somewhere that it had a refined taste. After the...fiasco my partner and I experienced, I think slowly easing her into a life of nobility one task at a time would help smooth the transition." He almost believed that himself had it not been for Lilie adamantly protesting nearly every change he had made, but Aaron didn't need to know that.

Aaron nodded again, remembering how upset Lilie had been. Good, he was glad that the Count really had taken her concerns to heart. She needed someone understanding to guide her and he was pleased to see that she was lucky enough to finally be paired with someone who would consider that.

“That’s smart,” he complimented, looking back down at the cup. Frankly, he was surprised that he chose a white tea—from what he heard from his mother, it took some getting used to—but if that was what his household was accustomed to, all the better that Lilie got used to it. “I think you’re right, Count. Although, if I may, it might be prudent to have a backup plan.” He gestured to the cup. “My own mother told me white tea took some getting used to, and while I admit I can’t say if that’s normal or unique to us—” a bashful expression crossed his face for a second as he was again reminded how far removed from other mages he really was, “—it might be a good idea to have a different type on standby in case Lilie doesn’t take to it right away.”

Ben hadn't considered that possibility. There were a good dozen different teas served in the castle alone. It seemed like the smallest oversight, but that was precisely why he needed mortal input. There was the added bonus of the subject being one where Aaron was well versed, and it did give him an odd comfort to see the mage at ease. He sincerely appreciated everything he said, but simply taking the advice would end the visit prematurely—he couldn't let him run just yet.

Ben reached into his pocket and pulled out a small notepad with a pencil looped through the binding. Flipping to an empty page, he looked to Aaron for his expertise. "What do you recommend?" He asked simply.

Aaron was surprised to see Count Benjamin whip out a notepad; he supposed in the back of his mind, it was just weird to see a vampire apparently hanging on his every word. The Count must have really taken Lilie’s concerns to heart if he was going to such lengths to make her feel more comfortable; he’d have to ask her later what exactly she told him that had such an effect.

“A black tea would probably be best,” he recommended, recalling the few times he’d joined his mother and Dora on their little tea dates. He’d be the first to admit that his palate was garbage, and he always found he couldn’t taste much in the more delicate teas they tried, but black teas could always be made to work. “They have much stronger flavours, and they can be sweetened as well if she prefers. They’re a good option if Lilie finds this one too subtle.”

Ben carefully wrote down everything Aaron said. Black tea first. That seemed easy enough to remember. He tapped the page with his pencil, staring at it. He wondered if perhaps ordering an entire variety would be best. The academy would surely provide. He gave Aaron a grateful smile as he stowed away the notepad for the moment. He was about to thank him when he realized that he would likely leave. What more could he say to get him to stay?

"Your insight is wonderful, thank you," Ben started. "If you don't mind, perhaps I could bother you with a few more questions? It won't take much of your time." And hopefully he would take his time deliberating so Ben could think of any questions.

Aaron dipped his head politely at the praise. “My pleasure, Count.”

The added questions were a surprise; Aaron figured he covered everything pretty well, though he could always be wrong. Strangely though, he was starting to feel like Count Benjamin was… stalling. Was he trying to keep him here for some reason? Aaron didn’t sense any malice, but he felt like the vampire’s principal concern wasn’t tea. Maybe he was biding time until Lilie got home from wherever she was? Or maybe this was just how this Count was; he’d shown the same reluctance to let Aaron leave at Revel as well.

He checked his watch. Varis usually lost track of time while he was grading; it was probably fine. “Of course,” he obliged. “What would you like to know?”

Ben was elated to hear the acceptance, but he had unintentionally put himself in a difficult position. What did he want to know? There were very few questions that he could ask that didn't come off as patronizing or made him look like a complete fool. Perhaps he could ask for advice on how to handle Lilie, but if Aaron told her, that would possibly stir up trouble in their relationship; while he was certain they were steady, he didn't want to undo all the progress that they made. He should just say the very first thing that came to mind.

"I was wondering for a little advice on...magic," He chose a random topic he had absolutely no prior knowledge on, but what could he possibly ask? "It's certainly a curious thing." He realized that was not a question the moment he left his lips, and he mentally chastised himself. He could come up with responses on being interviewed during his father's dinners but couldn't come up with a simple question to ask a mage without tipping him off?

Magic? What? Aaron kept his expression carefully neutral and attentive, but he was getting more and more… concerned for this Count by the second. He knew some of the other Eves at the Academy had been strange, but surely it couldn’t be all of them, right?

“It certainly is...” Aaron assented slowly, a little at a loss for words. If he didn’t know any better he’d think Count Benjamin was lonely and just longing for someone to talk to, but disregarding how thoroughly weird that would be, it also couldn’t be true. In any case, he had no sweet clue how to respond to the Count’s inquiry. Normally it would be rude to try and openly discern a noble’s intentions, but Aaron couldn’t help but feel like the Count had painted himself into a corner and could use the prompt.

“Forgive me Count Benjamin, but if I may,” he began cautiously, “is there another reason you wanted to speak with me?”

This was his comeuppance for coming up with the shoddiest of excuses. Ben slowly shook his head, ashamed of himself. Alas, there was little he could do but come clean and hope he hadn't alienated the mage completely. He straightened up considerably as he would speak, "There is. I ask that you forgive me for the roundabout line of questioning. I will say firstly that your advice is genuinely appreciated." And this was true. "I had been hoping to apologize, but admittedly bringing it out immediately after receiving some much needed advice seemed out of place. I suppose I owe you two apologies now."

His lips straightened as he considered which way to go about it, but since he had been caught, a direct apology seemed best in his opinion. "On the night of the Revel, I couldn't help but feel that our introduction had gone awry," He said. "I sincerely apologize for the awkwardness and any other discomfort you might have suffered. It was not my intention, I only want to honor the princess' invitation and the promise I made to foster relationships between all four noble representatives. Those relationships include those of their mages as well, and I feel there must be something I can do to make it up to you."

Aaron almost voiced his surprise, but refrained, momentarily stunned by Count Benjamin’s confession. Aaron wasn’t the kicked puppy Max and Salem seemed to think he was, but he would freely admit that a vampire—and a noble at that—prostrating himself like this over a presumed offence toward a mage was entirely alien to him. This wasn’t just an offhand pardon from an unusually polite vampire; Count Benjamin seemed sincerely bothered by the idea that he might have put Aaron in a bad position, and apparently wanted forgiveness bad enough to lure him into his dorm under false pretenses. Aaron was at a loss for words.

Luckily, he had some stock responses for such an occasion. “That’s not necessary, Count,” he insisted, dipping his head. “Your apology is kind and appreciated, but please don’t feel as if you owe me anything.”

The very thought was absurd. Short of ill-conceived gambling debts, what on earth could a noble owe a mage anyway? Aaron was comforted to hear that the Count regretted the events of Revel, but the thought of a noble feeling indebted to him—not his master, but him personally—was just bizarre.

The response was expected and disappointing altogether, but Ben supposed he had brought it upon himself. The damage seemed to have been done—his lowbrow scheming probably did not help his chances—and this was the result. Perhaps he had hoped for too much after all. Of course that didn’t mean at least they couldn’t be cordial and if that was all he would get then he would have no choice but to accept it. He could disguise the motion as one of goodwill, or even simple neighborly affection.

Ben gave Aaron a short, curt nod, but he felt he could not give in just yet. “If you do not mind my asking, is that the Sinnenodel mage response, or is that the Aaron Starag response?” He asked. “I would much prefer the latter, if I can be earnest.”

Aaron blinked, then blinked again, stunned into silence and entirely unsure what to make of this vampire. He almost sounded like Princess Ryner the way he seemed intent on coaxing him out from behind his court manner walls; but Princess Ryner had known him since he was born, and this Count had met him all of twice.

Clearing his throat, he opted for a more ‘genuine’ response, even if in this instance, his ‘Sinnenodel mage’ answer and his ‘Aaron Starag’ answer were practically one in the same. “...I beg your pardon if I came across as disingenuous,” he tried to recover, “I suppose I’m not used to being apologized to by nobles.”

Bringing his hands together, he started spinning his ring. “I’m happy that you’re taking Her Highness’ aims for the Academy to heart, I really am,” he insisted. That, at least, was true. “The Revel was a… strange night, but rest assured after our exchange I was no worse for wear.” He had spent the day on the lawn and gotten a thorough punishment from Varis for his trouble, but he didn’t blame Count Benjamin for that.

Aaron wasn’t sure what else he could say that would satisfy the Count, but as his gaze wandered back to the cake platter on the counter, he had an idea. “Your apology really is enough for me, and I thank you for it,” he began. “But, Count, if you have your heart set on making it up to me somehow, then I would say you already have.”

He gestured to the cup on the counter, still steaming. “Frankly, I’m happy that you’ve put so much effort into helping Lilie adjust to noble life.” He was sincere. “As I’m sure you know, she’s had multiple masters abandon her—not to offend your House, of course, but I’m afraid it’s true—and with her background, she’s been struggling.” Good lord, Lilie would kill him if she knew he was saying this to her partner, yet Aaron continued. “She’s my friend, and I hate to see her struggle. I’m heartened to see that she’s finally found a master who’s so eager to help her thrive.”

Now was probably a poor time to admit the tea was meant purely to lure Aaron in. Fortunately, it seemed the fates smiled kindly on him. Aaron’s response was truly one of Noilan fashion: polite, distant, and with a dash of an odd humility thrown in. Ben would take what he could get at this point, as alienating the young man would only undo the kindness given to him. However, his words did confirm a lingering suspicion, and he had unknowingly done him another favor.

There was a short pause on Ben’s part, but he came to a decisive conclusion. “I have to thank you again for informing me. Miss Dionne—Lilie is not forthcoming with her struggles,” He said. There was some guilt in exchanging information on his mage, but it was oddly satisfying to get the truth at last. He wanted to impose once again, but perhaps he was hoping for too much. He needed to be more cautious with mages, and he would rather play it safe for the moment.

“However, I will say it is a relief to see someone care for her wellbeing,” He continued. “I can only hope that someday you’ll allow me to extend that courtesy to you. There isn’t any reason we can’t at least be acquaintances, you and I.” It did not need to be said that this was solely between the two of them. “I’ll need someone’s assistance to see if my tea making has improved, after all.”

That Lilie didn’t admit her trouble wasn’t exactly surprising—it seemed like her faith in vampires had faded a little, although he was still pretty sure Lilie didn’t dislike her Count—though Aaron was more interested in the Count’s next words. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say this Eve wanted to befriend him. Sure, friendships between mages and vampires weren’t unheard of; in fact, he’d seen low-class purebloods and embraced mingle with mages on campus as if they were one in the same. Hell, it even happened in his own family; his mother and Princess Ryner carried on like old friends, and even Clara displayed some affection for Princess Nox. But those examples were either low enough on the social ladder that the distinction between vampire and mage mattered little, or well within the bonds of servitude, where developing a certain fondness was practical and expected. A Count pursuing the company of a rival House’s mage, on the other hand, was strange at best.

Aaron inwardly grimaced. Varis would call him a fool for even entertaining the idea that seeking friendship in another House’s ranks was anything but subterfuge. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Count Benjamin was genuine; his reputation as a mage rights advocate preceded him, and aside from some petty complaints about the trappings of life with a noble, Lilie hadn’t said anything bad about him either. He also had Ryner’s approval going for him, but mostly, well… Aaron didn’t feel like he was being manipulated.

That wasn’t to say it wasn’t still weird, but at least it didn’t seem maliciously weird.

Nodding, Aaron decided that he’d at least humour the Count, even if he didn’t quite understand him. “I’m honoured by your interest, Count,” he offered, dipping his head once more and offering Benjamin a polite smile. “I’d be happy to help you again, if I can.”

Ben prevented himself from getting overly thrilled, but through his own bumbling he managed to earn the wary mage’s trust for the moment. He could not ask for more, and to expect anything else was a fool’s wish. He was entirely satisfied and sincerely hoped that with time, the two could be on amicable terms. Next time he would take the advice for a better tea to properly entertain him and come up with better conversation starters; he could not lean on the topic of his mage too much, lest he form a dependency.

“The honor is mine, Aaron Starag. Truly,” Ben responded to Aaron’s humility with his own and gave him a slight bow. Once he straightened he chuckled. “I’m sure I’ve kept you long enough. Please, don’t let me keep you any longer, perhaps if our free time coincides I can invite you over again.”

Still taken aback, both by the general absurdity of the situation and now the added spectacle of the Count’s little bow, Aaron could only smile and return it with a deeper one of his own. “Perhaps,” he agreed. “Good evening, Count Benjamin.”

He waited until he was off the Eve property altogether to heave a deep breath, looking around at the other dorms and the forest and the stars for any indication as to what on earth he’d just been party to. By the time he got back to his own porch—at a more leisurely pace to account for some deliberating—he concluded that he had no idea what to make of all that, but he supposed it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Whatever the Count’s… intentions, he’d been pleasant, and Aaron had no reason to believe he had malicious designs. At the very least, those twenty minutes of strangeness served as a welcome distraction from visions of masked figures and false memories, though as he opened the door to his dorm, he supposed all good things must come to an end.

Aaron fully expected an earful from Varis regarding why exactly the returning of a platter to a dorm forty feet away took twenty minutes to complete, but to his surprise, none came. In fact, there was no response of any sort from the study; Aaron was used to being met with utter indifference anytime he didn’t quite deserve scorn, sure, but he at least expected to hear a few more murmured insults and violent pen scratches as Varis graded papers for his ‘invalids’.

A gentle nudge of the study door confirmed Aaron’s suspicions, bringing a smirk to his lips. There, once again, was Varis, slumped over at his desk and fast asleep. Shaking his head, Aaron closed the door once again, taking the opportunity to sneak to his room undetected. His chores were all but done, and Varis had been working himself ragged lately; maybe he could let the Count rest for a few minutes longer, and get in a little rest of his own. Moon only knew he needed it.

But even as he lay on his bed, eyelids like lead when he closed them, he found he couldn’t relax. Try as he might, he just couldn’t justify it; Varis hated falling asleep and wasting precious time like this, and as much as he would have loved the chance to take a nap, Aaron couldn’t let himself cast aside his Master’s wishes like that in favour of his own. He was an attendant, his job was to make life as easy for his charge as possible, and while Varis made it clear that so far he’d been failing on that front, that was no excuse to let small obligations like these fall by the wayside.

Inwardly groaning, Aaron dragged himself upright again, cursing his own devotion as he went. But, it was for the best. Maybe the Count wouldn’t have much to say about it anyway.

Hi I am pretty new to roleplay and to the site

Good name. You'll fit in here.

Obscene's Scratchpad

<sub>Dates: October 8th - November 4th

If you read nothing else of mine, read these ones for plot!</sub>

10/8: Aaron & Mr. Deshane

Deliberation

Aaron had never been good at sitting still.

And that was at the best of times. But now, waiting for his appointment with his guidance counselor to roll around, he was even more fidgety than normal. He had his elbows perched on his knees, his whole body shaking with the feverish rhythm his leg jumped of its own accord. He fiddled mercilessly with his ring, moving it from finger to finger and spinning it madly. Now and then he’d pause to blow a stray lock of hair out of his eyes, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to realize he’d have better luck if he just braided it up out of the way.

Ever since the school had given notice that arcane majors were to be declared by the end of the term, fierce indecision had been clouding his every thought. Sure, it probably wasn’t an uncommon sentiment - after all, everyone was probably feeling a little intimidated about choosing the arcane path they’d be taking - but what probably set him apart was that he wasn’t struggling to choose between this or that arcane school, but rather deliberating over just one.

He’d been prowling the library for weeks, reading up as much as he could about his prospective choice. He’d found a lot of good information, though none of it was particularly comforting; what was more, any books about its actual practice were locked away in the library ceiling, barred from consumption by the general populace. He’d be lying if he said the secrecy didn’t intrigue him, but there was more than enough disturbing information he could access to make him think twice. Before he’d come to the Academy, he probably never would have considered it, but after that night with Lady Sinnenodel and realizing he’d probably have similar experiences every time he dealt with her for the rest of his life, his potential path had seemed more and more like a necessity.

At long last, the door to the counselor’s office opened, and Aaron was beckoned in. Grateful for the chance to move, he stood and made his way inside, sitting where the counselor gestured and doing his best to put his thoughts in order.

Aaron's guidance counselor sat behind his desk, thick eyebrows shot up in surprise. The older man was heavy set and papers were scattered everywhere across the desk. Two computer monitors beeped quietly at him and he turned them off, sitting forward with his hands steepled. The man considered Aaron a moment before speaking

“Mr. Starag himself in my office. Never thought I'd see the day.” The man laughed, his voice rumbling from his chest. His eyes twinkled. “A surprise but a pleasant one at that. What can we do for you today my boy?”

Aaron answered the counselor’s laugh with an obligatory chuckle, offering the man a smile before looking back down more pensively at his shoes. He’d gotten that sort of reaction from a few other staff members so far; he still wasn’t sure what the big deal was, but it was important to handle it graciously nonetheless.

After a moment of spinning his ring, he collected his thoughts enough to sit up properly, schooling his features into something more cordial that didn’t reflect the turmoil he’d been going through in recent weeks. Best to get right to it.

“Well,” he began, looking around the office before forcing himself to pick one thing to look at and focus on it, “You’ve probably been hearing a lot of this, but I was hoping for some advice on choosing an arcane major.”

“Of course my boy!” The man, whose name tag said Mr. Deshane, pulled out a binder for every arcane school. “Did you have any thoughts on where you'd like to start or would you like to go over all of them?”

Aaron almost grimaced, but stayed pleasant. “That’s just the problem,” he admitted, tugging on his ear, “I… really only have one idea.”

He paused a second more to gather his thoughts before sighing, leaning back a little and deciding to just come out with it. “I’ve been looking into Mental magic.”

Mr. Deshane blinked for a few moments after Aaron's confession and he shuffled his binders around, putting the purple Mental Magic binder in front. He flipped it open with a thud and looked back up at Aaron.

“I take it that your indecision comes from the potential risks.” Mr. Deshane spoke seriously. “The risk of losing your affinity is very real and there are several prerequisites before applying. You'll need a written recommendation from one of your affinity instructors and there will be a full psychological evaluation before you are approved. What makes you want to take this route?”

Aaron nodded along with Mr. Deshane, playing with his ring again. He’d hit the nail on the head; the risk of losing his affinity was probably the only thing stopping Aaron from making his choice, the possibility so daunting it kept managing to overshadow the reasons he wanted to go down this path in the first place. But those reasons were hefty on their own, hence the indecision. He’d been beating his head against the wall on the issue for weeks for specifically that reason.

“I suppose I had a bad experience,” Aaron admitted, careful not to get into too much detail, “And even though the risks are… well, terrifying, I can’t shake the feeling that it’s something I need to do.” He leaned an elbow on the arm of his chair, looking to the counselor. “Does that make any sense?”

“I'm afraid not but if you're determined, I won't try and talk you out of it. Let's go over our prerequisites then.” The man sighed and unclipped a page from. The binder, handing it over to Aaron. It had a long list of courses. “These are all the education you need before the Academy even considers your application. Four additional affinity courses and three advanced spell theory classes, including one dedicated to protection. With such a high risk of affinity loss, these classes are meant to help strengthen your connection. You'll sacrifice a lot of freedom on the academic side of your courses until you've cleared these unfortunately. Are you okay with that?”

Now it was Aaron’s turn to raise his eyebrows, tossing Mr. Deshane a look of surprise before he turned his attention to the list he’d been given. Was he really not going to try and talk him out of it? Aaron had almost been hoping he would, thinking that this meeting would knock some sense into him after having so seriously considered such a dangerous school. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, turning his thoughts instead to the list.

“...Yes, that’s fine,” Aaron replied, a tad preoccupied by the list. He’d been wanting to do more affinity courses anyway, and as for the rest of them… well, freedom was a relative concept, and to be honest, none of the other arcane schools had piqued his interest once he’d realized that mental magic was an option anyway. But that possibility of affinity loss was a considerable hurdle to jump to make his choice.

“How high is the risk, exactly?” Aaron asked, handing the list back to the counselor. “I’ve done as much research as I could into the subject, but I never could find a number.”

“Our last count was…” He rifled through the binder again. “53%. Just over half those enrolling in the course lose their affinity. Of course, these numbers aren’t the greatest since we don’t have a stable control group. Some years we only have 1 applicant and others we have a full twelve. We haven’t lost anyone in the past two years thankfully.” He looked at Aaron, concern clearly showing in his eyes.

“If you choose this path, you have to be sure your connection to your affinity is strong. We do our best to encourage its growth but only you can really tell.” He leaned back and tapped a pen on his desk. “Do you have regular activities to destress and relax? This branch has the second most difficult spells to control and the process is incredibly stressful and violating until you can control the magic.”

Aaron almost groaned. 53%? That was terrible. Any self-respecting gambler would never go in on such shoddy odds if anything of value was on the line. And something of value was on the line.

So why was he still considering it?

He took a moment to think, leaning back in his chair. His connection to his affinity was strong, or at least, he thought it was. The more he learned about it, the more he used it, treating it like a reflex. He barely even thought about it; to him, it was an extension of his body, as much a part of him as his arms and legs. And what was more, he loved it. Practicing affinity mastery was probably the best part of his day, aside from sitting next to Lilie in Spell Theory.

Remembering the counselor’s question, Aaron played with his ring again, mentally cataloguing his habits. “I train to relax,” he stated simply, though he did smirk. “‘Gets me out of my head’, so to speak. I’ve always found it hard to be stressed while exhausted.”

Thinking another second, he added, “I keep journals as well, and playing my cello also helps calm me down. Anything that lets me work on muscle memory, I suppose.” He left out the occasional daytime trips to the woods. Those were probably better kept private.

“You’ll need to figure out a solid routine that lets you rest both your body and mind so training is out of the question.” Mr. Deshane typed into his computer to wake it up and typed for few a few moments while talking. “You need a regular, restful, routine. It should last about an hour of nothing that requires too much exertion, mentally or physically, and helps ground you emotionally. Perhaps you should ask..” he trailed off as he read the screen, clicking his tongue thoughtfully. “Maybe not. Though it is a requirement that you have something so even Count Sinnenodel couldn’t deny you that.”

“The cello wouldn’t be a bad idea but I imagine that an hour of that daily in addition to whatever practice you manage may be boring. The official suggestion is spending a few hours with your partner to develop a plan and then test it for a few weeks but in this case, I would recommend finding someone else you trust or know to have some empathy to make that plan and then present it to him.” Mr. Deshane turned away from his computer again. “I can schedule a meeting with a student currently in the program if that would help. She is Athena Lexitori’s mage, the acting president of the Arena Guild. She is quite accomplished in the art and might be able to provide some better insight into the difficulties you’ll face.”

Aaron listened intently, pulling out his phone to jot down everything the counselor mentioned. He smirked knowingly at the little jab at Count Varis, though it was only there for a second before he schooled his features into something more polite. He wasn’t thrilled that training wouldn’t work, though. Ever since he’d started when he was ten, training had been one of his only outlets. A new method would take some getting used to if he did decide to go this route.

He perked up, however, at the mention of someone he could speak to. “That would be excellent, thank you,” he told the counselor, “did she manage to hold on to her affinity?”

“So far, yes. With her control over the mental disciplines, our instructors are surprised she has but as of yet, we’ve seen no signs of affinity regression.” He replied, the pride and relief evident on his face. “When I reviewed her psychological evaluation while I was on the committee, I had my doubts but she managed to surpass all of our expectations so far.”

Aaron nodded, pensive. Maybe if someone ‘unexpected’ like her could do so well, there was some hope for him. But he still wanted to know what he was dealing with.

“What more can you tell me about the risks?” He asked, almost a little scared to hear the answer. “For example, affinity loss. Is it something that just happens at random, or is it possible to recognize before it’s permanent? Is there any way to consciously work against it?” He leaned forward on his elbows, morbidly curious.

“We have no way of measuring affinity loss without the mage’s communication. From what we understand, the process happens rather naturally. They don’t notice losing it until it happens.” He leaned back again, resuming tapping. “Affinity magic is the result of everything we are and how we perceive that. Mental magic expands the mind, making it do things no regular mage is capable of, and sometimes things change in the process. The mind is a tricky machine and one that doesn’t take lightly to unnatural alterations. There are some warning signs but none of them are consistent across all mages. It’s why we focus on affinity classes all through the program.”

“We believe maintaining a close connection with familiar comforts, friends, family, spouses, and hobbies, help maintain a healthy balance between affinity magic and the arcane arts. You’ll undergo regular psychological evaluations throughout the process as well so we can try and refocus your activities to help avoid that loss.”

Aaron nodded along, somewhat somber as he listened. It astonished him that someone could somehow not notice losing their affinity. Even as early on in his education as he was, the very idea sounded as absurd as not noticing the loss of your arm. Did those who lost their affinity have a weak connection to start with? Or was mental magic so intense that he simply couldn’t fathom its effects? What was he in for?

That line of thinking led him down a dark path, and finally, he had to mention something. “This information is very helpful, thank you.” he began, “but to be honest, I thought I’d come in here and you’d try to talk me out of it.”

Tugging his ear, he finally had to ask. “I realize you’re probably not supposed to give an opinion, but if I may ask anyway, what would you recommend I do? Am I an idiot for pursuing this?”

“Personally, I believe this school of magic should be banned as well. I do not recommend anyone go into it.” Mr.Deshane admitted after a long pause. “But the branch has amazing potential. It’s just so incredibly risky. I technically can’t tell you not to enter if you want to but I would highly recommend you talk to a few others on it. Maybe even your partner if you can convince him to talk to you like a person rather than a resource.” The man made a face at that statement.

“Whatever you chose, the Academy will do its best to make sure you succeed safely. The Princess has made sure of that.” Mr. Deshane smiled comfortingly at Aaron. “Speaking of which, did you want me to schedule an appointment with that student?”

Aaron suppressed a groan at Mr. Deshane’s statement; he'd found more than a little speculation in his research as to why mind magic hadn't been banned. He almost wished it had, too; if so, the event that threw him into this whole mess would never have happened.

It took a second for Aaron to realize Mr. Deshane had finished speaking, and when he did, he cleared his throat and straightened up, a little embarrassed at having gotten lost in thought. “Yes, please, I’d appreciate it,” he replied, standing and holding out a hand. “Thank you, you've been very helpful.”

10/14: Aaron & Hannah Harbuckle

Hannah Harbuckle

Mr. Deshane sent a letter to the Sinnenodel dorm confirming the details of the meeting with Hannah. She agreed to meet at 5am in study room 2 in the library. The library itself was a bit louder than usual as students scoured the bookshelves for research material and texts and tomes flew every which way. The study rooms were only on the ground floor, a single door set next to the entrance. Entering required a key that a librarian supplied when the reservation time approached and each set of keys would take students to a specific room despite the shared door.

The study rooms, in addition to being private and quiet, were themed for students who needed a relaxing space to work. Study room 2 in particular sat on an empty stretch of beach. A round table sat in the middle of a large pagoda, cushioned benches in the place of chairs. A projector on a mini fridge sat across from a drop down screen. Gulls cried in the distance and crystal blue waves rolled over golden sand, shimmering in the warm sunlight.

Hannah sat underneath the shade, sipping quietly at an iced coffee. She wore simple clothes, a bright t-shirt and jeans accompanied with a pair of garish flip flops. Her hair was tied back in a messy bun and a pair of silver framed glasses sat on tired eyes. She watched the gulls in the distance, seeming distracted.

When Aaron retrieved the study room key from one of the librarians, he’d been expecting to step into a small room with tables and chairs, not unlike the practice room back home. What he walked into was a shock to say the least; he wasn’t bothered by the sudden brightness of sunlight, eyes adjusting immediately, but rather by the jarring change. He had thought the magic in the rest of the library was extraordinary enough, with its warping of space and gravity, but this was above and beyond what he could have expected.

He took a moment to stare around at the beach and the ocean, stunned, before he found another figure in a nearby pagoda. He made his way over carefully, awkwardly stepping through the sand before gratefully reaching the pagoda, shaking sand off of his shoes before he turned his attention to the girl on the bench. Noticing she seemed distracted, he followed her gaze, finding nothing but birds in the distance. Good lord, did the room really extend out that far, or was it just an illusion?

In any case, they had something more important to do. Turning back to the girl, Aaron cleared his throat and offered a smile and a hand. “Hannah? I’m Aaron, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Oh, you're here!” Hannah startled from whatever she was thinking, a smile crossing her face as she shook his hand. “Sorry, it's so quiet I kinda spaced. So, what's up? Mr. Deshane said you wanted to talk about the program? Oh and I brought some coffee in the fridge if you drink it.” Hannah gestured to the mini fridge. She watched him intently however and he could feel just the slightest brush against his mind before she blinked and it disappeared.

“Oops, sorry sorry. Habit and all that.” She laughed. “Once you're used to getting in people's heads, it's just instinct.”

Aaron shook her hand politely, though he recoiled a bit when he felt a sensation he couldn’t quite describe in his head. Luckily, it was gone as quickly as it came, with Hannah apologizing. That had been her? Aaron couldn’t say he was fond of it, but it was definitely more pleasant than what Lady Sinnenodel’s mages had done.

“Uh, no worries,” he replied a little uneasily, settling onto the bench a bit away from Hannah. Forcing a bit of a nervous laugh, he asked, “See anything?”

“Nerves and concern. I didn't delve deep enough.” She kicked off her sandals and put her feet up on the table, leaning back. “Relax. I don't bite. Though I get it. This magic is pretty intense. Took me almost a year to stop randomly jumping into these weirdos’ heads. Gotta say, don't miss that phase. People think weird shit.” She laughed, gagging at a memory. “So, talk to me. What's going on?”

Nerves and concern? Sounded about right. That could have been an apt description of almost his entire Academy experience so far, Aaron mused. He laughed along with Hannah, mostly just to save face, before becoming a bit more businesslike.

“Well, you’re right, I was interested to hear from someone in the program,” he told her, shifting a little in his seat so that he could look at her face-on. “Against my better judgement, I’m considering going into the mental program myself. I suppose I’m wondering what you could tell me about what I can expect.”

“Well, I hope you don’t like secrets because after this you won’t have any. The first thing they work on is closing your mind off. And by closing it off, they repeatedly invade and violate all sense of personal boundaries until you learn to shut them out! It’s a horrifying ordeal but effective.” Hannah explained jovially as she counted ticks on her fingers. “Then there is telepathy at the same time and that's a trip because you just start broadcasting and picking up thoughts willy nilly. Started more than one fight that way. Good thing my vampire knows how to fight!” She sipped a bit more at the coffee and snapped her fingers.

“Next step is trapping invaders and reversing the connection. Then telekinesis and man that’ll trigger all on its own too. I personally recommend tying everything to your body. Backpack, pencils, phone... If you want to keep it nearby, tie it down.” She finished counting and flashed him a thumbs up. “And that’s all year one and two! They might mix it up here and there but they’ll work you like a dog at the beginning. And don’t worry, your instructor is legally bound to silence by the princess herself. Even if you were personally planning a rebellion against the Queen, they couldn’t say anything!” She leaned in really close and whispered, “I hear the instructors are bound by dark magic. And when I say hear, I mean I saw.” She winked.

Aaron listened intently, doing his best not to recoil in his seat. Good lord, he was used to learning things the hard way, but that sounded like an ordeal. No wonder this poor girl looked so tired. Nonetheless, it was morbidly fascinating, especially hearing that ‘closing off’ the mind was the first thing they taught. Horrifying as it sounded, was oddly comforting. After all, that was most of the reason he wanted to go into this school.

He eyed Hannah warily when she scooted closer, leaning a little away when he heard what she had to say. Alright, silence, great, but the rest sounded like something secret he definitely didn't want or need to know. She did say secrets wouldn't be a luxury of his anymore, but good lord, he didn't need to be learning about possible dark magic in Princess Ryner’s ranks today.

Yet, despite the nightmarish contents of her speech, Hannah didn't seem the least disturbed. Eventually his curiosity got the better of him. “You seem… Awfully cheerful about all that,” he stated, forcing a bit of a laugh, “How did you handle it?”

“I could tell you. Or I could…” She pointed a finger at Aaron and spoke, “Relvelo Bombardum.” Images flashed flashed through Aaron’s head almost faster than he could comprehend them. Her sobbing in front of her instructor, her doubled over with her hands over her ears, her scratching at a wall as everything went black. Aaron felt despair and hopelessness and most of all, pain. Her most sacred place being violated over and over and over again. People laughing at her thoughts and kicking her around. People disturbed as she responded instinctively to their thoughts, slowly losing the ability to discern the difference between spoken word and thoughts. A phone flickered and died, untouched and unconnected as friends stopped contacting her.

The pain eased and vanished as a hand, pale and powerful, picked him up in every memory. The lingering feeling of a kiss on the temple when everything was too loud. A strong presence when everyone else was scared. Athena beamed and the heart beat faster. Determination and pride gradually replaced the fear and the loss. Friends returned and the voices quieted. Athena danced across the arena, looking more alive than any human, and the magic in the air sang with purpose. With determination. With strength. Hannah dropped her finger and Aaron snapped back to his senses.

“A purpose.” Hannah continued sipping at her coffee. “I went in at first only wanting power. The risks intrigued me and the benefits outweighed the results at first. They warn you plenty about losing your affinity and how it could affect your life and all that. But no one warns you about the responsibility, about the loss, about the creep factor in the early days.” She laughed, but it was far from joyous. “They don’t warn you how exhausting it is to know everyone better than they know themselves. White lies are truly a blessing, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“It nearly ruined me. I wanted to die by the end of the first year but Athena wouldn’t let that happen. She picked me up over and over and over. She stood with me when no one else would. And so I decided she was why I wanted to learn. To help her for what little time I have in comparison. I wouldn’t have this power if she wasn’t here so it only seems fair to repay that.” She chuckled, this time much more nicely. She put her empty cup down on the table and let her head fall back. “So find a purpose, an anchor, anything or anybody that’ll stick with you regardless of what happens. It’ll be miserable but at least you can justify it.”

Aaron hadn't realized how hard he'd been gripping the edge of the bench cushion until he released it, the visions fading away. His first reaction was to bristle a bit at the intrusion; good lord, were all telepaths so obnoxious? Is that how he'd behave when he became one?

But he forced himself to relax, resisting the urge to glare at the girl as she spoke. Apparently it was something he’d have to get used to, and at least now it wouldn't be Lady Sinnenodel doing the digging. He gave himself pause, though, when he realized he'd been thinking of everything in certain terms: when he became a telepath, he would have to get used to it. As if the decision was made. He'd thought he was still deliberating, collecting all the advice he could before making a choice, but more and more he felt that despite every frightening thing he learned about the school of mental magic, he couldn't see himself doing anything else.

Still, he took Hannah's advice to heart. Find an anchor. Of course, his first thought was Lucan, but a hint of doubt crept in: Aaron had been elated that Lucan would be joining him at the Academy, but the vampire he considered a brother had all but disappeared without a trace on some assignment, and he had no idea when to expect a return. So who could he turn to? Hannah had her partner, but in Aaron's circumstances the very idea of such a thing seemed like a joke. He'd have to put more thought into it later.

Realizing he'd been quiet for a moment, Aaron nodded absently, eyes fixed on the table. “Do you think that's what helped you hold on to your affinity?” he asked. “Was there ever a time when you thought you'd lose it?”

“I don't know honestly. I know my grades were slipping in most classes because of the stress but I couldn't say any of my issues were because of that.” She said apologetically. “But I do honestly believe that it's because I have a purpose that I still have it. Some of the previous classes always mention feeling lost but since my decision, I've never felt that. I've never felt like I'm just going through the motions for the sake of it.”

Aaron hummed some affirmative response, looking down at his hands. He rotated his ring on his finger, watching for a moment how the light bounced off the many facets on its surface. There she was, talking about purpose again. What was his? Protecting the people close to him? That was why he’d considered mind magic in the first place, to make sure that his loved ones couldn’t be leveraged by Lady Sinnenodel. Or maybe it was to spite her; he could only imagine how satisfying it would feel to block her out, to be able to stray from Varis’ side without fear. But that seemed pretty weak for a driving force to hedge his affinity on. What else did he have?

“You’re lucky,” he murmured, almost by accident. He looked up from his ring, blinking as he turned back to her. “I mean, that’s great, that you have someone to excel for.”

Hannah gestured lazily at Aaron with a muttered “Ivderanus.” Nothing seemed to happen for a moment but she flicked absently, her eyes unfocused and distant. A warm presence, full of happy feelings and good intentions, slipped into the boy's mind.

“Wow, your life sucks doesn't it.” Disappointment underscored her words as she continued to flick. It was like she was flipping pages in a book and sometimes circled something here and there. “Jeez, who’s that? You just played with that poor girl. Too busy looking at those legs hm?” Hannah cackled but suddenly she coughed, flicked the page, and coughed again, clutching at her throat. Her eyes grew wider and wider as she struggled against something and a dark bruise started forming around her neck. The presence vanished and she gasped, suddenly able to breathe again. Hannah slowly climbed back into her seat, winded, and stared at Aaron wide eyed.

“Who the fuck has been in your head?” She wheezed, still trembling. She made a shaky gesture and the mini fridge flew open, a bottle of water soaring into her outstretched hand. “I've never even seen our instructors able to pull something like that off.”

Hannah’s incantation rubbed Aaron the wrong way, figuring she was delving into his head again. But soon he felt more comfortable with it, satisfied in the knowledge that she meant him no harm as he watched her, somewhat fascinated.

Her comments didn’t bother him, though panic overcame his calm when Aaron saw her clutching at some invisible presence around her throat, jumping up when that bruise started forming, though he didn’t know what to do. He considered running and getting help, but he was hesitant to leave her.

Mercifully, Hannah’s fit was over almost as quickly as it came, though it did little to calm Aaron as he watched her recover, wide-eyed. Only when she spoke again did he finally take his seat, feeling behind him for the bench with eyes locked on Hannah, heart still jumping in his throat.

“Are you okay?” He asked urgently, ignoring her question, “What the hell was that!?”

“A very violent block in your head.” She groaned, rubbing her throat. “Advanced mind magic can put wards against intrusions in your head, normally keyed to specific memories. They can cause psychic feedback, sometimes strong enough to knock out whoever is rooting around, but I've never even heard of one that can physically hurt someone.” A note of awe crept into her voice as she spoke. She eyed Aaron again but an excited glint replaced the panic from earlier.

“So, who was in your head? All I could get was some music, maybe a piano?” She leaned forward, practically vibrating with excitement. “It was beautiful though. I've never encountered magic with that degree of sophistication. We have to go back in. We have to see what it is. Come on, I can take both of us.”

For a moment, Aaron could only stare, looking at the girl like she had two heads. What the hell was she going on about? A piano? Lady Sinnenodel had dragged him kicking and screaming through his own memories, but nothing involving a piano. Although…

“Lady Sinnenodel was in my head,” Aaron replied, a little breathless in his lingering shock. “Why on earth would you want to repeat that?”

“Lady Sinn—” The woman launched herself at Aaron, hitting her knees and clinging to his. “I got lost in someone's head for three days just to find a spell they couldn't remember. Something like this? It's a once in a lifetime experience. I’m begging you. I think it's the most beautiful thing I've seen since I started this. I've read most of the illegal material on mind magic.” Hannah's eyes were wide, in a comical attempt at puppy dog eyes. “And I think it might actually kill me without your permission so please?!”

Aaron shifted in his seat, shying a little away from Hannah as she dropped before him. Immediately he took her shoulders, gently guiding her back up to the bench with a muttered, “Please don’t do that.”

He watched her incredulously as she continued, practically manic at the thought of diving headfirst into what he was fairly sure would be a nightmare for all involved. But as he watched her, her excitement began reminding him of when he’d first started practicing his affinity, wanting to get his hands on techniques far beyond his skill level. Besides, if this was the world he was going into, he supposed he should start getting used to it now.

He searched Hannah’s face a moment longer, hoping he would think of something to change his mind, but nothing came. “...Fine,” he conceded, inwardly groaning. “Just... please be careful.”

“Yeeees. I'll be as careful as can be!” Hannah promised cheerily. She placed her hand on Aaron's chest and pushed gently. The scene around them vanished, wisps of color fading into darkness and the forest outside Ryner's home appeared. Varis smoothed out Aaron's tie and stormed off into the darkness.

“What an asshole.” Hannah snorted. “You should deck him one day. Bet he wouldn't even see it coming! Oh but this is as far as I got before something choked me out. Mind walking us down and we'll see what happens!” Hannah clapped her hands together eagerly, watching Aaron expectantly.

Aaron blinked around at the darkness when the scene changed, surprised nothing else seemed all that different. He was standing in his same clothes, and still next to Hannah, several steps down the path from… Aaron.

He peered through the darkness at the pair down the path, watching from an outside perspective as Varis fixed his tie after having grabbed it, right after he’d given his warning. He might have rolled his eyes at Hannah’s comment had he not been so transfixed on the bizarre view of watching himself hurry into the woods at Varis’ heel.

Looking suspiciously to Hannah, he began to lead them down the path after… himself. “I could have just told you what happens next,” he informed her, a hint of sarcasm sneaking into his voice as some of the same nervousness from that night began to grip him anew.

They followed close enough behind to keep his other self and Varis in view, though that meant they couldn’t stray too far, lest the darkness swallow them. In fact, the trees on either side of the path were shrouded in it, an inky, featureless blackness that clashed with the slightly more illuminated path. Every now and then, though, a small patch of the forest to one side or another was a little more detailed; after watching his other self for a moment, Aaron realized that those detailed parts only appeared where he saw himself glancing. Apparently he hadn’t looked at the rest, having been wrapped up in his own nerves, so their features were missing from the memory.

Soon enough, the forest lightened and Aaron could see Ryner’s gate up ahead, the path of her drive extending beyond it.

As the pair approached the houses, Hannah gripped her head for a moment and Aaron could feel something tighten on his chest, the faintest outline of a hand gripping his shirt visible against the darkness. The familiar scene of the manor vanished and instead sunlight poured through the trees onto a manor covered artfully in vines and rose bushes. The fountain still ran, looking brand new, and the driveway was only partially completed. The faint sound of a piano playing caught their ear, seeming to echo across the scene, but no one could be seen.

“Wow.” Hannah's words seemed breathless as she reached her hand out. She plucked at the air and a thin golden line appeared in her fingers, humming along with the piano. It sparked and vanished. “A crash course on memory blocks and improvised memories: Like cloth, fake memories are made of “threads”, bits and pieces of magic woven with emotions and sensory images and put together to make an image. Threads take on different colors based on how real a memory is. Real measures how much true memory is woven into it rather than magic or fragments. Our books say gold is impossible because it's pure magic, there is no part of real memory woven into it, and so it falls apart. But this,” Hannah spread her arms and laughed. “This makes me think we don't know anything. Well, let's go see what this is all about! Have you ever seen this building?”

Aaron was staring wide-eyed at the scene before them until Hannah started to speak, explaining the origin of what he was about to say; that this was not his memory. However, rather than being as terrified as he should have been that a false memory was in his head, what Hannah said about real memories and impossible threads, sounding giddy all the while, made him feel more inquisitive than afraid.

At her question, he turned back to the manor, examining it closely. “It looks like… Princess Ryner’s manor…” He spoke slowly, combing through his memory. He remembered from his schooling that the manor was built ages ago, almost a millennium, and the rose bushes creeping along the outside confirmed for him that it was indeed hers. But the fountain was new…

“Wow,” he breathed, eyes widening as he let his shoulders fall. “This is her manor right after the Treaty was signed.” He looked to Hannah, and this time, it was his turn to get excited. He pointed to the fountain. “That was installed at my grandfather’s recommendation, it’s a defense measure. She had a few water mages with her at the time.”

Looking back at the manor, it was hard to tear his eyes away. “This happened within my grandfather’s lifetime,” he remarked, a little stunned. He ran a hand through his hair, gaping at the sight.

“Well, that shouldn't be right. Golden threads mean nothing should be based in reality.” Hannah walked forward, periodically plucking at a thread and tsking at the gold colors, until she raised her hand and pounded against the memory. Threads rippled for a just a moment, gold rushing off into the distance, but a pattern was clearly visible. The threads wove together in interlocking diamonds and in each one, a black eye hovered. Hannah watched, her excitement shifting into caution.

“Black normally only shows up in those suffering enthrallment.” She muttered. “But you don't have any of the other hallmarks. So why are there black threads in gold threads where neither mean what they should? This is…”

Hannah stopped suddenly as man rounded the corner, arguing with himself as he tossed a ball of fire between his hands. A younger Landar Starag, looking no older than Aaron, approached the pair and sat on the edge of the fountain. The piano in the background flowed from one song to the next. Landar's fire went out and he looked up abruptly, eyes fixed on Hannah. He stood, scowling, and suddenly his skin cracked and shattered like porcelain. It shifted and changed, moving around until the man looked older, wiser, with no hint of a smile and he lunged at Hannah and wrapped his hands around her throat once more.

Aaron all but jumped back from the lattice of black and gold, moved to deep unrest that something so disturbing was lurking in his mind. His mind. But none of it, none of it lingered in his thoughts for long when he spotted a man rounding the corner. A young, blond, blue-eyed man, playing with fire.

Aaron actually gasped, one hand coming up to his mouth as he looked on, transfixed. That was him. That was him. He was younger than he should have been, but it was unmistakably him. The man Aaron had spent his life looking up to in portraits, right there.

Crackling into pieces, and lunging at Hannah.

Coming to his senses with the sudden attack, Aaron reacted, lunging forward himself. He almost hesitated, confronted with the face that hung all over the walls of his home, but not for long. It wasn’t real, it was a false memory, but he knew the danger to Hannah wasn’t.

Wedging himself between the two, Aaron tried to wrench Landar’s arms away, but the second he touched the man, he exploded into— ravens?

Aaron threw his arms up instinctively as a raven flew at him, a few others flying out from where Landar had been. On the ground, several snakes slithered off of a pile of apples, over their feet and away into the grass.

Aaron could only stare at the apples for a second, breathing heavily. A rushing sound caught his attention, and he looked up to see the fountain running, spouting sand instead of water. He gaped for a second, before looking back to Hannah.

“What the hell is this?” he pressed darkly.

“Confirmation.” She wheezed but reverence seeped through as she fell to her knees. “The original vampires and their close descendants had power magic only dreamed of. I read in one of the restricted books that mind magic was created to counter one of the originals’ power but they didn't have a source. But the threads, the lattice, the literal noble seals— This is a—” Hannah's face went slack and she vanished, turning into wisps of dark smoke. Aaron felt something lift off his chest as she did but the scene around him remained unchanged.

“Just like Landar.” A voice, deep and smooth, rolled out of the mouth of a snake nearby. “Always getting in trouble without me watching. You're early, boy. And I bothered to give you my protection. Tsk, tsk, tsk.” As it spoke, the voice climbed an octave slowly. It stirred something in Aaron's head but the feeling wouldn't click. “Since this will fade once you leave, you may as well take advantage child. Ask one question before the sand engulfs you.” Sand rapidly poured over the edge of the fountain but the music started up again, this tune bringing back the image of a strange place with blank sarcophagi.

On instinct, Aaron grasped at the smoke where Hannah had vanished, panic rising in his chest when the memory didn’t disappear with her. But before he could wonder if this had all been a very long fever dream after the Revel or something, a voice turned his head, a snake as its source. An adder.

There was no time to be confused over its words or the strange pitch of its voice before the scene changed again, piano music filling his ears and sand flooding the floor between rows of sarcophagi. Fourteen, to be exact. But he hadn’t counted.

It was more than deja vu that struck Aaron as sand pooled around his legs; no, he knew he’d been here before, and he knew exactly when. But this had taken him out of a nightmare last time, not played a part in it. So what was so different now?

There was certainly more than one question swirling in his head, but Aaron was biting down panic as the sand reached his waist, trying and failing to move his legs. There was no time. So he did all he could do, grasping at the question which had been gnawing at him since they entered the false memory.

“That was just going to be a normal memory,” he snapped at the snake, eyes burning as the sand approached his chest. “So what the hell was in there that’s so important it needs to be protected like this?”

With his question, the sand shimmered before exploding into thousands of glowing butterflies against a dark room. Muffled shouts of celebration rang from beneath the floorboards and the smell of stale ale and sweat permeated the air. A candle lit, followed by the rest, and the room glowed orange. Only a mirror sat in the middle, covered with a dusty cloth.

“There lies your answer. Look if you dare.” The voice whispered in his ear. A gloved hand hung off Aaron's right shoulder and a sudden weight along hung back suggested an arm may be there as well.

“I do love mindscapes. I can be tall in them.” The voice sighed dreamily. “Being short was always a pain. You're lucky you know.”

Aaron peered around through the dim light, eyes landing on the mirror in the centre of the room. He started a bit, shifting instinctively, when he felt a weight across his shoulders, that eerily familiar voice in his left ear.

Rather than make a beeline for the mirror, Aaron stepped out from under the arm, turning to face the owner of the voice. He was confronted with a figure about his height, but bulkier; upon closer inspection, it was clad in leather armour, candlelight bouncing off the familiar dark slick of blood. Under a mop of unruly red hair was a face—no, a mask—that Aaron recognized. One of Lucan’s distant relatives, she’d died in battle defending Princess Nox.

Narrowing his eyes at the figure, Aaron spoke more coolly than he might have expected from himself. “Greta Bordeleaux wore obsidian plate, not leather,” he stated, examining the figure.

“All work and no play makes Aaron a dull boy.” The figure sang with a laugh. “Very well, very well. Maybe you'll like something a bit more masculine.” The mask contorted and shifted, Greta's face melting off like wax. A new face pushed out of the blank space; Donovan Astorio sneered down at Aaron. The vampire was executed for nearly throwing the realm into civil war three hundred years ago. “Are we going to stand here all day and play games to amuse you or would you like your prize? After all, the longer you stay in here, the more worried your little friend gets.”

“Aaron? Aaron? Wake up!” Hannah's voice, desperate and frantic, rang through the room before more celebratory noise replaced it. The figure slipped over to the mirror and grabbed the cloth, ready for a dramatic unveiling.

“Of course if you're scared, that door behind you will wake you up just the same. But how disappointed would your dear grandpappy Landar be?” The figure taunted Aaron.

Aaron lifted his head at the sound of Hannah’s voice, though despite her frantic tone, he held firm, an eerie calm setting in. “She’ll be fine,” he replied coldly, eyeing the figure as it moved to the mirror. “This is all in my head, after all.”

His gaze didn’t waver as the figure mocked him, his eyes trained on the mask of Donovan Astorio. Its offer was tempting, but something in the back of his mind was still gnawing at him as he approached, stopping him from reaching out.

“You seem awfully fond of the dead,” he remarked, crossing his arms and coming to a halt in front of the covered mirror. “Is that why you like to taunt the living?”

“Dead? They never lived.” The figure chuckled. “Better yet, they never existed. They were only roles written in a game far older than civilization as you know it. And there are many more where they came from, surrounding you and your kind. Far too many for my liking.”

“But,” the figure sighed as he leaned against the mirror, “I do envy you. Enjoying the breeze on your skin, the moonlight on the water, the touch of a lover. All things I am destined to be without for far too long. But we do crazy things for vengeance don't we.” The room dimmed, the edges fuzzing. “Seems like you've nearly ruined your memory of me. Quickly, make your choice or you may not get back at all.”

Aaron stared at the figure, listening not to his words, but to his voice. His words were mostly gibberish to Aaron anyway; it was the voice he’d been trying to hear. The pitch, the cadence, it was all so familiar but for the tone. But Aaron had achieved his goal, it seemed, and gotten the figure talking long enough for it to finally click in his brain who it was.

Except it was Varis.

A familiar spike of fear shot up through Aaron, and he stepped back at the realization, mind buzzing. The room was growing dim, and he was growing panicked, his former calm having burned away. He was done with this. He had to get out. But he’d come in for a reason, and like hell he’d be leaving without his answer. Urgently, he grabbed the cloth and tore it from the mirror, casting it aside.

He got barely a glimpse of himself in the mirror, Dawn shining at his side, before everything went dark.

“Ah!”

Aaron shot upright, inadvertently banging his head into something before he even managed to open his eyes. When he did, he was greeted by sunlight, golden sand, and Hannah, who had apparently been sitting too close and whose head had been the victim of his collision. Leaning forward, he squeezed his eyes shut, groaning quietly and massaging the sore spot on his forehead.

Hannah recoiled when they collided, her back hitting the table with a loud thud. She groaned as she rubbed her forehead and stumbled into her seat. It took her a moment to collect herself.

“What a reaction to a little mind reading.” She grumbled. “If you want to make it through mind classes, you'll have to get over this passing out defense mechanism. I know we're all a little squeamish at first but wow, you are extra aren't you?”

Aaron glared sideways at Hannah, not sure whether to be angry or confused. “What are you talking about?” He demanded, justifiably a little curt. “You saw that, didn’t you?”

“Saw what, a life of boring imprisonment and letting a fight go on so you could ogle a girl for the first time? Yes, I did.” Hannah looked confused and concerned. “Look, I'm sorry I did that without permission but you gotta get used to it or get real good at making excuses. The hive is gonna want to connect or Dennis is going to cry and you'll make us all angry and it's just going to be a bad time.”

Aaron stared at Hannah with that same combination of confusion and irritation, slowly straightening as she spoke. He didn't know what to address first: that little jab at his upbringing, whatever the ‘hive’ was, whoever Dennis was or why Hannah was acting like they hadn't just stumbled on something terrifying and incredible in his head.

“I gave you permission,” Aaron began, moving up to the bench without breaking his gaze, “We both went in, remember? We— I— Hannah, you were strangled twice!” Aaron took out his phone and held it out so that Hannah could see her reflection in the screen, his own eyes locked on the dark bruise around her neck, a confirmation that he wasn't the crazy one.

“That's from a nasty evocation spell gone wrong, Aaron.” Hannah spoke carefully, taking a few steps backwards. “I never asked your permission to enter you mind. I was just trying to help you find some sort of purpose and then next thing I know you passed out. If you'd been under any longer, I was going to call for help.” She eyed him like a feral animal, keeping her distance.

“Are you sure you're okay. Maybe you should pick a different arcane major? You seem a little… unprepared,” Hannah suggested. Her hand lingered on the table as she sat back on a bench.

Aaron resisted the urge to throw up his hands and look to the sky for answers, instead pocketing his phone. “Well, ‘okay’ is a relative term but yes, I think I'm okay,” he conceded with a slight huff. He looked at Hannah suspiciously.

“Just to be clear,” he asked, “gold threads, black eyes, an apparently impossible false memory; none of that is ringing any bells?”

“I mean, minus the black eyes yeah? I'm glad you've done some reading ahead but you don't need to know that for at least a semester.” Hannah sounded genuinely confused. “What are these black eyes?”

“‘Signs of enthrallment’?” Aaron replied indignantly, “Except I'm not enthralled? Nothing?”

“I wish I knew another language so I could tell you ‘no’ in that one too. Is this some weird way of asking me to get in your head because I'm not sure that's such a great idea right now. You know, with the hallucinating and shit.” The woman snapped, crossing her arms. “Maybe you should get evaluated before joining. You've obviously got some shit going on in there.”

“Well I'm obviously going to get evaluated, it's required,” Aaron snapped back, before exhaling heavily and leaning back, rubbing his eyes. Why was he bothering? Something obviously happened in there to wipe her memory, or… something.

“Sorry, I guess I respond poorly to mind reading,” he sighed, figuring it was best not to anger the girl who could be helping him and resolving to look into it on his own. “Anyway, what's the hive? Who’s Dennis?”

“Okay then.” Hannah settled down, drinking her water. She still seemed unconvinced. “The hive is just all the students in the program. Once we've controlled our telepathy, we all just sort of link up. It's incredibly useful, cheating is ridiculously easy but you lose most of your privacy to the hive.” She shrugged at the mention. “I remember Dennis tried to ask this girl out and half of us were whispering pick up lines and the other half of us were trying to shut them up. He did not get the date let's just say.” Hannah chuckled fondly. “Dennis is a junior in the program. He's a bit insecure and cries really easy so he's the baby of the group and the hive is incredibly protective of him. If someone upsets him, we all flood the person's mind with nightmares for months. No one hurts Dennis.”

Aaron quirked a brow, examining Hannah questioningly. Truth be told, that all sounded like a nightmare, not to mention it seemed like they were awfully mean to this ‘Dennis’ despite apparently wanting to protect him. But he supposed that was none of his business; not until they wanted him to wire into the ‘hive’, anyway.

“Ah,” was his reply as he finally tore his eyes away, staring down at the table as he prodded gingerly at the lump forming on his forehead. He was quiet for a second, wanting to interrogate Hannah further, but he was fairly sure he wouldn't get anything out of her. It really seemed like she forgot everything, all they'd seen having been pasted over somehow with mundane excuses.

“Is there anything else you think I should know?” He finally asked, looking over. “Anything you wish you knew before you started all this?”

“Hm, yes actually. Always bring a box of tissues to defensive practices. And new contacts if you wear them. And lots and lots of water. You're going to be bawling through every lesson for the first year.” Hannah cringed. “Other than that, make sure you have a direction and meaning for going into this. It isn't for the faint of heart and it'll chew you up and spit you out.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Aaron replied absently and nodded, standing and holding out a hand. “You’ve been very helpful, thank you. Would it be alright if I contacted you again?”

“Of course! Here, give me your phone so I can put my number in it.” Hannah held her hand out.

Aaron nodded, pulling up a blank contact on his phone before handing it over. “Thanks, I'm sure I'll be using it.”

She typed out her contact, chuckling at something, and tossed it back to him. Her own phone lit up, Janelle Moane's “Screwed” blasting at full volume. “Wow where did the time go? I have to jet, sorry. Athena's got a match soon and I hate missing them. Send me a text so I have your number!” She waved and bolted towards the door, leaving a wake of swear words behind her.

“She's funny.” The figure's voice, though distant and weak, tickled Aaron’s ear. “I wonder why she hid her mouth though.” And, like a veil being torn away, Aaron's memory shifted. Every image of Hannah changed and two of her overlapped perfectly. Neither image made sound even though her voice was clearly heard but only the top image's mouth moved.

Aaron whipped around at the voice, though all he saw was Hannah, seeing double, but not quite the same. Any former caution or composure was long gone, the man practically snarling at the voice and the vision.

“What is this!?” Aaron shouted, trying to back away from the images. “Who are you!?”

But of course, there was no answer. Instead, the voice went silent and the visions faded away, leaving him alone. Aaron simply stood there for a moment, breathing heavily and wanting to scream. Soon, though, the room felt cold and unsafe, the sunny warmth and gentle crashing of waves doing nothing to comfort him. So he simply stalked away, looking over his shoulder and lost in his head.

10/21: Aaron & Princess Ryner

Ryner's Opinion

Making an appointment with Princess Ryner normally involved struggling to find an opening in the royal figure’s schedule and then getting rescheduled for important matters of state only to be pulled from a class during the night as Ryner forced her schedule open when she found out someone pushed aside a precious student. In recent years, Ryner created a special office hour period. This hour and a half block was dedicated to only students immediately after dawn, a time most sane vampires would be sleeping and unable to call on the Princess for anything less than the most dire circumstances.

The walk to Ryner’s manor was much more peaceful than the last time. Early light drizzled through the forest canopy, catching the morning dew. Bird calls and the chitter of insects permeated the air, a slight breeze whispered through the leaves, and a few deer grazed in the distance. Even still, Aaron was cautious, the memory of his ordeal with Hannah still fresh in his mind. Oddly enough, though he normally appreciated a chance to be out after sunrise, the sunlight on Ryner’s manor as he approached made him ill at ease, reminding him of the false memory he’d been replaying in his mind ever since that meeting. He even went so far as to keep his hand on Dawn’s handle as he approached, though his worries were unfounded, the walk to the manor altogether uneventful but for his own nerves.

Ryner’s manor practically glowed in the morning sun, light glittering off the quiet fountain and the dew on the roses around the building. The door opened to a young man bowing as the light mage approached, silently taking him through the manor to Ryner’s study. Two sharp knocks and a bow to him later, the man disappeared down the hall as Ryner called out, “Enter!”

Aaron did his best to swallow the flicker of jealousy he felt at the sight of the servant, his gaze lingering on the man a touch longer than necessary as he took his leave. Before he opened the door, he took a breath to clear his head, unnecessarily straightening his tie. Thinking like that was ungrateful and unproductive, and in any case, it would only serve to drive him crazy.

Ryner sat on her desk, still dressed in her riding outfit and her hair tied up tightly in a bun. A glass of blood swirled slowly in her hand and she read from a book titled “Ancient Beliefs: Religion and Death.” Two comfortable leather chairs faced her and a colorful rug covered the hardwood floor. Bookshelves lined the walls, holding both books and artifacts in glass casings. A painting of the sunrise over a foggy lake hung over her desk. She looked up as Aaron entered and a fond smile spread across her face, placing down both the book and the glass in favor of walking to him and wrapping him up in a warm hug.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes? Even if you were just at the castle for the break, I swear you grow a little more each time. I’m surprised you didn’t put on more weight while you were at the castle by what your mother said she planned to feed you!” She exclaimed, beaming as she kept hold of his shoulders and checked him over. “Enough of my worrying, sit down. It’s well past your time to turn in. You must be tired.” She returned to her chair behind her desk, taking another sip of blood in the process. “Now, what can I do for my favorite light mage this morning?”

Aaron barely had the chance to get his customary bow out of the way before Ryner approached him, though her hug and her kind words did manage to earn her a bashful smile, however bittersweet. Ever since he was a child, she’d been a calming presence, some of his tension relaxing even now. He shrugged off her comment about the hour, hoping that it would be excuse enough for the circles under his eyes that he wouldn’t have to admit he hadn’t had a full day’s sleep since his meeting with Hannah.

Taking Ryner’s cue to sit, Aaron pulled a little at his sleeves, taking a second to anchor himself and put his thoughts in order. It was reassuring to have been able to dress properly this time; while his suit and tie - one of the few in his new wardrobe - were a different style than he was used to, they were still more of a familiar feature than the more casual clothes Varis insisted on putting him in. The silver earring swinging from his right ear he could probably have done without, but at least his disdain for the thing had mostly faded.

Not wanting to waste any more of the Princess’ time than was necessary, Aaron forced himself to speak, neatly shelving his growing self-consciousness about the meeting behind his practiced court smile. “Well, Your Highness, to put it briefly, I’ve all but decided to go into Mind magic as an arcane focus, and my guidance counselor told me I had to submit a plan for… coping.” He did his best to act nonchalantly, but the nature of his request was gnawing at him, making him a little hesitant. “He recommended I find someone I could trust to help me make one, and with Sir Bordeleaux occupied, I thought of you.”

Though he maintained his outward calm, on the inside Aaron practically groaned. Good lord, he felt ridiculous even just saying it. Taking up the Princess’ valuable time for a personal matter felt distinctly improper (not to mention that this was the second time he’d done it), Aaron being sure that she had far better things to do. It just killed him that what he said was true; with Lucan away on assignment (and apparently with hands full enough that he couldn’t even answer a letter), he really didn’t have anyone else to turn to, and he’d never be accepted into the program if he didn’t make a plan.

“Aaron, I’ve known you since you were a babe. I’m more than happy to help you but I’ll need more than your pleasant smile.” Ryner sent him an amused look. “Part of what you’ll have to learn on this path is emotional honesty. You’ll be exploring the deepest recesses of your mind and while I have no doubt you are capable of such a venture, hiding or ignoring how you’re feeling behind your court manner will only hold you back at best. You’re safe in here, with me. Anything you say or do stays with me.”

“Now, what have you considered so far? Activities similar to your sessions with Sir Bordeleaux should be avoided. As calming as exhaustion is, it is bad for a struggling mind.” Ryner sipped more at her glass as she relaxed into her chair. She watched Aaron for a moment, seeming lost in thought. “Music is always a good outlet. Have you kept up with your practice? Playing some simpler pieces with a friend or two can be one option.”

Aaron nodded, ears beginning to burn at the Princess’ gentle reprimand. She saw right through him; he should have expected it, but he’d always found ‘emotional honesty’ to be a challenge. It was much easier to shelve things away to be more or less dealt with later than to wear his struggles on his sleeve. But she was right, he needed to learn and he might as well start now. A little reluctantly, he finally let his mask fall away to reveal an exhausted and embarrassed young man, uncertain and seeking guidance.

Sighing, he shifted in his seat, running a hand over his jaw at the mention of training. “My counselor said the same thing, though I can’t say I’m very happy about it,” he replied, running his fingers thoughtfully over the scar on his ear. “In the past, when I couldn’t train, I didn’t really know what to do with myself.”

At the mention of music, Aaron nodded again, remembering something. “Of course. I did mention that to my counselor, but I’m not sure if that will be enough.” He dropped his hand, letting it fall on the arm of the chair as his expression grew somber, eyes unfocused and aimed somewhere on Ryner’s desk.

“When Sir Bordeleaux found out that Mom was sick, he had me doing a lot more music than training, but I was still going a little crazy worrying,” he admitted, fingers finding their way back to his ring. There was a brief pause before he took a breath, perking himself up a little. “I’d still like to at least incorporate music, though I don’t really know anyone here who plays. I suppose I’ll have to find some new ensemble partners.” Moon only knew how he’d go about that; most of the campus gave him a wide berth already.

As Aaron spoke, something flickered behind Ryner’s eyes and she grinned, throwing open drawer after drawer, rummaging through them, and giving a quiet huff as she couldn’t find what she was looking for. She moved to the bookshelves, pulling out a few of the glass cases and huffing again when she didn’t find it.

“You always were an active child.” Ryner laughed as she continued to look for whatever it was. “Always a fidgety little thing. It was absolutely adorable honestly but it would be remiss of us not to consider that for this. So instead of beating yourself half to death and scurrying away to a life mage we can always…” She pulled a case of the opposite shelf with a quiet “Aha!” and pulled out an old MP3 player.

“I knew I kept it stashed around here.” Ryner beamed as she returned to the desk and pulled out an old mp3 dock. “I haven’t quite had the time to update my things. I’m afraid they’ll confuse me as much as phones confuse my mother so I stick with the old technology.” She fiddled with it for a while and finally got everything plugged in properly. She tapped a few buttons on the player and music played softly, a familiar cello standing out against the rest of the ensemble.

“I remember when you played this at court. Just after your awakening, you were so relieved I just had to have it recorded.” Ryner reminisced with a fond smile. She held her hand out to him from the middle of the room. “Come, dance with me. A simple waltz always helps me clear my head after a rough day at Council.”

Aaron watched curiously as Ryner searched around her office, eyebrows shooting up when she produced a sort of MP3 player he hadn’t seen since he was a child and started playing a familiar tune. It took a second for him to recognize it, but it clicked in his head what it was from just before Ryner herself mentioned it. He had to take a breath to steady himself as emotion welled up in him, both from the memory of that night and how ecstatic he’d been and from the encouraging, humbling thought that the Princess had thought that moment important enough to record.

“I remember,” Aaron stated absently, rising from his chair at Ryner’s request. He took her hand, placing his other one appropriately on her waist as he moved effortlessly into a start position. “I didn’t know anyone had recorded it,” he remarked, listening carefully and stepping into a waltz when the music was right.

He’d played the piece almost exactly three years ago, but he was astounded by how clearly he remembered it. He could pick out his part with no trouble, mentally going through the motions of that particular piece, remembering the positions of the notes on the page and where he’d marked in his cues and corrections. He didn’t usually record himself, so hearing his own music played back was strange; he could predict which notes would be emphasized, stretched or condensed because it was him playing, his style immediately apparent to his own practiced ear. It wasn’t just the music he remembered, either; he also remembered the hall he’d been playing in, the other people in the ensemble, even the way the light glinted off a scratch on his stand. He remembered getting a little giddy every time he saw it, still riding the high from his Awakening. He’d been grateful for the relative simplicity of the piece, because his mind had been elsewhere, hands working on muscle memory as his mind raced with excitement. Even now, he couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“There he is! I knew I’d find you eventually.” Ryner chuckled as she followed Aaron’s lead. “Of course I recorded it. I have all of your performances recorded. I’ve saved as many of you and your family’s moments as I could get away with. Your mother has most of them. Duty too often gets in the way of your moments so I keep them just in case.” The little bit of tension set in her faded away as she flowed into the familiar steps and hummed along with the music. She closed her eyes, fully comfortable with Aaron’s lead.

“Mental magic, hm?” Ryner mused. She spoke softly, just loud enough for Aaron to hear but without speaking over the music. “That is quite the choice. I’m not sure anyone in your family has attempted to learn it. With how giddy you were after your Awakening, I’m surprised you’re willing to take the risk. I take it you’ve done your research? Talk me through your process.”

Aaron was touched by the thought of Princess Ryner holding on to moments from his and his family’s lives, his smile warming even as Ryner closed her eyes. But it faltered a touch when she asked about his decision, and he was tempted to put his walls up again, the topic bringing with it a spark of now-familiar anxiety. But he had taken the Princess’ advice to heart, and he figured he owed it to her to be honest, so he would do his best.

“Truthfully, I never thought it was something I would pursue,” he explained, paying almost no mind to the steps of the waltz as he navigated the pair of them away from Ryner’s desk. “I’d be devastated to lose my affinity, and I’ve been trying to talk myself out of it for weeks, but I can’t shake this feeling that it’s something I have to do.”

“Does this have anything to do with the dinner?” Guilt crept into her voice at the mention of it. “I know I apologized over the break but I’m sure I can’t apologize enough. I should have known the Lady would have taken advantage of your aunt. In case you haven't managed contact with her yet, she made a full recovery from that night despite a shaky month.” Ryner sighed, the days spent pacing outside the woman’s bedroom after the event still clear in her mind. “Is that why you plan to enter the program? Defending yourself?”

Aaron nodded, taking a breath to try and stretch out the growing tension in his chest. “All I did was step away and she got into my head and saw everything. I know I shouldn’t have moved, but with Aunt Dora screaming like that, I didn’t even think.” He looked off to the side with a slight huff, clearly irritated with himself, before returning his attention to the Princess. “And now anyone I’ve ever met could be under her microscope. I know it's too late for me but if I can help it, I'd like to keep the people I care about far out of her reach.”

It felt strange to talk so freely about his Lady, especially considering that he was fairly sure saying the same to anyone else would probably have disastrous consequences. But despite the worry nagging at the back of his mind, it felt good to get it off of his chest. “Trust me, if it were just myself at stake I probably wouldn't risk it, but with Master’s position I can only assume I'll be seeing more of her, and I can't justify putting other people at risk just because I’m afraid.”

“Under a microscope? Who thinks Lady… Varis.” Ryner opened her eyes long enough to roll them. “I assure you, the world's second most premier drama king drastically threw this out of proportion. Lady Sinnenodel has more pressing concerns than evaluating a single mage's life. However, taking the risk for your loved ones is commendable. It's one of the many things that make you shine.” Ryner's grip on him tightened and she brought their dance to a halt.

“But never forget that you, your feelings and your instincts, matter. You cannot sacrifice what's important to you for other people. You are strong, so so strong Aaron, but you will not come out the same if you walk into this with only that.” Ryner's eyes were full of care and warmth and concern as she kept eye contact with Aaron. “You need more to make it through this, Aaron. I would be devastated if anything happened to you. I should set up a meeting between you and one of our current students to help give you some direction on that.”

That was exactly what Aaron had been thinking, that Lady Sinnenodel wouldn't possibly care enough to bother with anything she found in his head, but he still couldn't shake his worry. Besides, he'd be lying if he said his reasoning was entirely altruistic. He was not a fan of her or anyone picking his mind apart. The irony was not lost on him, of course, being that he'd have his mind combed through repeatedly throughout his training, but the idea that he could protect himself by the end of it was tempting nonetheless.

He stopped when Ryner halted him, heart swelling at her words. Again he had to take a breath to quell the emotion rising in him; it was amazing how profoundly her kindness affected him. In the back of his mind, he realized he'd been almost craving it, the Princess giving him the sort of guidance and understanding he'd been pining for ever since he joined Varis.

He was grateful for the change of topic when it came, rapidly blinking a few times and clearing his throat. “Actually, I’ve already met with someone. Her name was Hannah, I think she was in second year. Do you know her?”

“Yes, I do. She has quite the appetite for magic.” Ryner said thoughtfully, starting the waltz again as the music looped. “She came to me personally for access to our restricted texts on the subject matter. How did your discussion go?”

Aaron picked back up when Ryner did, though he looked away when he spoke. “It was… definitely productive,” he replied, a little uneasy. For a moment that was all he offered, dancing a little stiffly as he wrestled with himself. But he realized he’d put up his walls again, and resolved to open back up, making himself relax with a long breath as he closed his eyes.

“I suppose there’s more than one reason I want to go into this school,” he admitted, keeping one ear on the music to ground himself and opting to explain from the beginning. “Hannah and I spoke for a little while, and she was very helpful, explained what I would go through during each stage of my training and how she coped. She said I needed a ‘purpose’, something or someone to do it all for when I couldn’t do it for myself. She has her partner, but I can’t help but think that may not work in my case.” He gave a ghost of a knowing smirk before growing serious again.

“Anyway, she tried rifling through my memories to help me find mine, but when she did, something… stopped her.” He stopped then too, drawing back a bit. One hand found its way to his throat, absently rubbing it as he collected himself. “I don’t know what she did to me, but when Lady Sinnenodel went into my mind… I think she might have left something behind.”

Ryner paused at the comment but continued dancing, concern evident on her face. “First and foremost, are you okay? Did it hurt you? Do I need to call a medic?”

Aaron shook his head, returning his hand to Ryner’s waist and continuing the dance. “No, it didn’t hurt me,” he corrected, “I don’t think it did anyway. But it hurt her.” A certain urgency crept into his voice, and he looked Ryner in the eye, something he would never otherwise do, to convey the gravity of the matter. “When she got to a certain point in my memories, something started to strangle her. I saw it, I watched her choke, I saw the bruise it left. It wasn’t just in her head or mine, it was physical. She said it was some kind of memory block, like she’d never even heard of before, and insisted I let her investigate.” He tore his eyes away, heaving a sigh. “I don’t know, maybe I should have refused, or gone to one of the instructors for help instead of letting her do it, but I did let her do it, and I do not like what we found.”

“Something in your memory choked her in the physical world?” Ryner stopped them, disengaging from the dance entirely, and stopped the music. “And you think Lady Sinnenodel put it there? Tell me exactly what happened from start to finish.” Ryner sat behind her desk, a pad and pen quickly in front of her.

“Yes!” Aaron exclaimed, admittedly surprised that Ryner believed him. After Hannah seemed to forget everything, he’d been growing more and more concerned that he was just crazy. He followed her to the desk, sitting in his former chair and perching his elbows on his knees. “Hannah was actually excited about it. She practically begged me to let her go back in, and she only even asked my permission because she thought whatever it was might kill her if she went in without my consent. So I agreed, and she did… something, and suddenly we were at the edge of the forest on the night of the dinner, watching Master and me from a few steps behind.”

He told her the story in the order it happened, giving her as much detail as he could remember; which was quite a bit, considering he’d been running over the events of their ordeal over and over ever since it happened. The words practically fell out of his mouth, Aaron surprising himself at how eagerly he told the story; apparently it had been swirling around in his head so much he’d been dying to get it all out. He told her about the false memory, the threads and the eyes, seeing his grandfather and her manor from hundreds of years back, and everything else, all the way through his encounter with that strange figure and the mirror, to when he finally woke up.

“... but Hannah insisted that I’d passed out from a routine mind-reading, and that the bruise around her neck was from an evocation spell gone wrong. No matter what I said, she just looked at me like I had two heads and essentially told me I was crazy.” He leaned back in his seat, his exhaustion apparent as he slumped into the leather, leaning his temple on his hand. “Then when she left, that voice - Master’s voice, I swear it - came back, saying…” he paused a second to remember the exact words, looking up at the ceiling, “... ‘She’s funny, I wonder why she hid her mouth though’.”

He rubbed his temple, closing his eyes. “But I don’t know what that means. And suddenly all my memories of her were replaced, or altered, or something, by this odd… overlap? Of two of her? Like seeing double, but not quite. Only one of her moved her mouth, but it was like her voice was coming from somewhere else.”

He let his head fall back on the chair, rubbing his face and heaving a sigh. “I was very stressed by this point so I yelled at it, asking what this was and who it was, but it was gone.” He lifted his head back up to look at Ryner, the circles under his eyes evident. “I don’t think I’ve had a day’s sleep since, I just keep going over and over it all in my mind. It feels like there’s something foreign and malevolent hiding in my head, and honestly, it's really disturbing.”

Ryner wrote as fast as Aaron spoke, pages flipping rapidly and another note pad slipping out from her desk. The longer he spoke, the more anger replaced the concern on her face. When he finished, she sat back and her face went blank as she thought. It was silent for a long while as she flipped back through the notepads.

“Thank you for bringing this to me.” Ryner broke the silence, her face softening once again. “I can only imagine how unsettling that experience must have been. That being said, I don't believe this… event will occur again. Given the identities it chose and the scene with Landar, I believe I know what happened and if that is the case, you are in no danger. If you are feeling up to it, I would like our instructors to confirm my suspicions and then compare it to Hannah's memory of your time together. I would rather know you are no longer in danger before we start a full investigation these events."

Aaron nodded eagerly. “Yes, anything that will help, I'll do it,” he insisted, relief crashing over him. What happened to him was real, he wasn't blowing it out of proportion, whatever it was was real and not just an overreaction on his part. “I'm honestly just glad to hear I'm not just crazy. I was beginning to worry.”

He was quiet for a moment, considering whether his next question was valid, but decided to come out with it. Ryner wanted honesty, and he would be remiss if he wasted his chance to speak openly. “May I ask the purpose of an investigation? Whatever happened to me, is it a crime? Are you at liberty to tell me any more about what it was?”

“It is not what happened but rather who happened.” Ryner spoke carefully. “Somehow someone discovered information restricted to the royal family and passed it into you undetected, or that was an impression of the man responsible for all those events. Either option is a grave security threat to the realm and we must move quickly before whoever is behind this realizes their impression has been triggered. As such, the evaluation will occur as quickly as our mages can arrive.” Ryner pulled out a flip phone and made a quick call, orders phrased politely but with a firmness that demanded immediate action. Once she hung up, she relaxed a little and fondness filled her face as she looked at Aaron.

“You did nothing wrong and my first priority is making sure you are safe so don't worry about this. I expect your part in this to end before you return to your dorm this morning.” Ryner changed the track on the mp3 player, a piano and a cello playing softly through the speaker.

Aaron nodded slowly, a little surprised that he was being evaluated so soon, but understanding the urgency. But ultimately, Ryner’s explanation provided more questions than answers.

“So you don’t think my Lady is to blame for this?” he asked, knowing it was possible he wouldn’t get an answer. “Or did she put something in there and then someone else blocked it off? Or something else entirely?” Confusion was evident in his voice, as well as a prick of apprehension. He wasn’t a fan of where his reasoning was headed. “Is it possible for someone to have invaded my mind without my knowledge? With my Lady and Hannah, it was at least noticeable...” He trailed off, sinking into thought, eyes unfocused and searching.

“Wait,” he added suddenly, snapping back to focus. “Your Highness, you said I’m no longer in danger. Was I in danger before?”

“Anyone in the general vicinity of that person is in danger but yes, you were. If my suspicions are correct, the entity in your mind would have grown over time and eventually been fully capable of seizing full control, manipulating your memories, and even your senses in real time.” Ryner explained gravely. “However, it seems at this age it only had enough power to manifest that particular mechanism once without damaging the structure of the block. Going in and triggering it a second time must have collapsed it.” Ryner looked at Aaron for a few long moments.

“The short of it is yes, you were in danger and assuming I am correct, yes they can stroll into your head at almost any time. Technically, eye contact is required but this vampire is old enough that altering memories is as easy and quick as tearing a single sheet of paper. If he didn’t want to be seen, he wasn’t.” Ryner smiled reassuringly. “I do not believe Lady Sinnenodel responsible for this. This ability isn’t learned; its an ancient and innate power of the original vampires and their children. The originals and the children slaughtered each other mostly and those remaining actively and aggressively opposed the Treaty. They were culled for the sake of peace with humanity. But if the Children are back…” Ryner trailed off, thoughts whirling in her mind, but she shook it off. “But hopefully it was an elaborate prank or a simple ruse.”

Aaron listened intently, growing visibly more troubled as Ryner went on. He was reeling, all this talk of the originals and how vulnerable he really was quickly becoming overwhelming. Eventually he couldn't sit still any longer and stood from his seat, pacing slowly and spinning his ring. He had so many questions, confusion and concern flooding his mind, though even beyond how on earth any vampire could possess magic, one stuck out from the rest.

“A ruse?” He asked finally, though he didn't stop his fidgeting, moving his ring from finger to finger. “But why would someone with that kind of power ever bother with me?”

“Your bloodline is a glowing testament to the Treaty. Imagine if you spoke against it.” Ryner responded. “It would throw our order into chaos. Rebel factions would feel emboldened and all out war may actually break out. As much as I agree change is necessary, destroying everything in the process is radical and dangerous to the greater human population. A single document is all that stands between the old ways and now. A Starag speaking out against it would obliterate it.”

“I would never speak against the Treaty,” Aaron replied automatically, though he was entirely sincere. He remembered what he'd told Salem that night after dinner (and what felt like every night after that), how despite its flaws, the order prescribed by the Treaty was the way things had to be to maintain peace. The very thought of someone trying to upend it was disturbing enough, and now what, someone was actually trying to do it?

“All those things Master said about the Red Hand…” Aaron stopped his pacing, eyes falling somewhere on the rug. “Truth be told, I didn't believe him. Not about Salem, anyway. Though I did see the Marivaldi house boarded up afterward…”

He looked back over to Ryner, head snapping up. “Do you think there's any chance they're behind this? What if they try again? Your Highness, if that's what's going on then I really may have no choice but to pursue mind magic; if someone is trying to manipulate me to undercut the Treaty, I have to do everything in my power to protect myself.”

“If that is what you believe, if that makes you feel safe, then do it. You always have a choice Aaron. As difficult as those around you may make it, you always have a choice.” Ryner said. “But no. The Red Hand isn’t behind this.” Ryner tapped absently on the desk. “But it does mean someone is hiding something.” At that moment, Ryner glanced up and the door swung open. Three mages in long robes swept in, bowing to the Princess.

“Visar, Allison, Dominick, this is Aaron. Based on recent events that he brought me, I believe Hannah has lost her affinity and is using a restricted technique to hide it. Allison, Dominick, find her and subdue her. She is not to be harmed under any circumstances but we cannot have her using what she has learned.” The pair of mages bowed and swept back out. Visar instead let his gaze fall on Aaron, sizing the boy up. The man matched height with Aaron and circled him slowly.

“This is the boy, your highness? This is my first time seeing a Starag in person. I must say, I’m-” Ryner silenced the man with a look and shook her head. Visar bowed his head.

“Sit down please Aaron. We can continue our discussion once we are done.” Ryner said, nodding at the chair he left vacant.

Aaron looked to the door when the mages arrived, though at the mention of Hannah, Ryner had his full attention. “What?” He all but blurted out, forgetting himself in his shock. Hannah lost her affinity? So what, did that mean everything she told him was useless, or did she just not have a strong enough connection after all? Or did their ordeal have something to do with it? It would torment him to think he had a hand in her affinity loss, but he truly had no idea.

He barely glanced at the one she called Visar, suddenly straightening when he realized his rudeness. Clearing his throat, he sat where Ryner indicated, speaking much more calmly. His court manner came back in the blink of an eye, neatly shelving his shock and concern behind a polite, if curt, mask now that he and the Princess were no longer alone. “Yes, forgive me, this is all a lot to take in.”

“I'm sure.” Visar said sympathetically as he took his place in front of Aaron. He leaned in and placed his hands on the mage's temples. “Relax into my magic when you feel it. You'll feel drowsy and you may fall asleep. It is perfectly normal.” As Visar spoke, Aaron could feel him coaxing at the edge of his mind, pulling up the sleepless hours he’d spent fretting and washing the pure exhaustion over him. The worry and anxiety faded away and his body felt light and sluggish all at once. Visar's magic felt like soft pillows and cool sheets and his mother's touch, refreshing and relaxing and familiar as he sifted through Aaron's memories.

“There are no foreign entities in his mind any longer, your highness.” Visar's voice was distant and far away as light touches and warm caresses coaxed Aaron further and further into his own mind. Visar murmured a few more words and Aaron slumped, fast asleep.

~ /// ~

“Aaron.” Ryner murmured as she ran her hand through his hair, putting just enough pressure to make her presence known. Visar had given his report almost half an hour ago and his spell would be wearing off soon. “Aaron, it’s time to wake up.”

A sensation in his hair began to coax Aaron from sleep, a voice, somewhat distant, bringing him back to the surface. His eyelids were still heavy when he opened his eyes, blinking slowly as he registered his surroundings. When he realized where he was, though, his eyes flew open with a sharp gasp and he practically jumped out of the chair, stumbling a bit and catching himself on the arm of the chair as he rose faster than his balance could adjust.

“I’m sorry!” he exclaimed, almost like a reflex as he blinked around at the office, waiting for the last fog of sleep to dissipate from his mind.

“Aaron, you walked into my office with dark circles. I'm not going to deny you a little much-needed sleep.” Ryner soothed, though the twinkle in her eyes betrayed her amusement. “However, I have to ask. Is it only the stress of debating your major that is causing this or have you had another dream? Life mages can ease your way through stress but those are an entirely different matter.”

Not entirely hearing her at first, Aaron searched the rug as he tried to figure out how he'd managed to fall asleep in a meeting with the freaking Princess. It took him a little longer than expected, grogginess clinging on more insistently than normal, but he remembered that they had been dancing, and then sat back down, talking more about finding his “purpose”. He must have nodded off in the chair, perhaps soothed by the music. Though Ryner was understanding, he still mentally kicked himself for behaving so irreverently. Maybe opening up and unloading his anxieties about the program had relieved enough of his tension for the exhaustion he'd been building on the past few weeks to come upon him all at once, but he still cursed his own foolishness.

Shaking his head as the last tendrils of sleep faded away, Aaron finally registered what had been said to him. Shaking his head, he allowed himself to settle back into his chair. Of course, Princess Ryner saw right through him. Not altogether surprising; the stress had been rolling off of him since he got here, and he knew after so long sleeping poorly his eyes looked more dead than alive. Frankly, he was surprised she hadn’t asked sooner.

“Your Highness, your intuition is uncanny,” he half-joked, although there wasn’t much energy left to keep up the facade as familiar anxieties crept back in. “It returned the last day I spent at home, though this one only lasted a week.” He got right to it. “I’ll admit that this one is more pleasant—if you could call cryptic dreams pleasant—but I’m sure you understand why I’m not exactly comforted by the thought.”

Ryner frowned when he explained the situation and she stood, returning to her desk and pulling out a new legal pad and a quill. “That is concerning. Why don’t you explain this dream to me and we’ll see what we can make of it. Hopefully, piecing it together will ease some stress off your shoulders and maybe give us a clue why you’re having them.”

Aaron nodded, taking a moment to put his thoughts in order. “At the very least, this one is less eventful,” he began. “The entire thing takes place in what I assume is Ellmare’s new home. She thinks it’s in the sky—presumably a tower—with a garden, and she’s been able to make herself at home. In the dream, she’s on a balcony, basking in the sunlight.”

He rubbed his temple, closing his eyes. “She thinks about the sun, and about Yvaine and others whom I assume are her associates—people Ellmare thinks of as the moon and stars, respectively. She feels safe and happy there with them, but just as her lingering doubts return, ‘her moon’ makes her presence known, sending a blue butterfly to call for her. Ellmare treats Yvaine like a mother, and Yvaine treats her as a daughter in turn.” His brow furrowed. “She seems to call upon something resembling plant magic, but more than that; she creates vines and flowers and stars to comfort Ellmare, and they’re effective. Ellmare drifts back to sleep and then…”

Aaron opened his eyes once more, shrugging defeatedly. He was starting to notice a pattern. “Then I wake up.”

Ryner had been writing for most of it, her quill moving as quickly as she jotted down notes and questions alike, but it had come to a halt at the mention of stars and flowers. She tapped a few times and underlined something before she looked back at Aaron. There was no expression on her face. “Starting from the beginning, you said it might be a tower and she was basking in the sunlight? Were you able to see anything beyond the tower or anything in the garden? Any details that might give us an idea where she is in your dream?”

“If not,” Ryner flipped the page and wrote some more. Her lack of expression didn’t change as she spoke, an unusual occurrence in front of any of the Starags. “Did she mention anything about Yvaine and her associates? Any specific details would be perfect. Did you see any of them?”

A stone of familiar dread settled in Aaron’s stomach as he watched the Princess disappear behind a mask of her own. Still, he took a moment to think, eager to provide as much information as he could. “It seemed to be warm in the daytime and cold at night, if that helps at all. Whatever home she was living in had a library, and apparently the garden was a maze garden. She seemed to think it stretched out beyond the horizon…”

It was like he was back in the dream for a moment, the images surrounding him as they had so many times before. It was vivid, and enchanting, but alas, there wasn’t anything more he could discern. “And that’s all, I’m afraid.”

As for the people, Aaron paused again to count them all. “There was… a funny little man who would bring Ellmare toys, and told her that silence was actually conversation—maybe a Divination instructor?” He sounded unsure, but counted off on his fingers anyway. “Then there was a woman who behaved like a leader among the others, but also taught Ellmare jokes and pranks she could play on Yvaine.” He almost smiled, feeling the familiarity from the dream. But as soon as he noticed it, he pushed it away, the thought of carrying anything out of those dreams disturbing him. “And then two more men. One I think was the man who accompanied Yvaine in the first dream, with an axe and a distaste for staying put, and the other was stern but warm, who Ellmare thought of as a father. It seems he took care of her anytime Yvaine wasn’t there.”

He looked back up at the Princess, letting his hands fall on the armrests. “I didn’t personally see any of them, but Ellmare was very familiar with all of them. There were servants present in the household too, but not mentioned except in passing. Does that help?”

There was a brief glimmer of relief in her eyes, gone in almost a blink, before a thoughtful frown replaced the expressionless mask. “Not immediately. I’ll do some research into it. Yvaine is still a central figure so it’s likely these are the other Children? Or perhaps embraced of her own? There is still so much to consider. A new dream before I could barely put a scratch on the other. At least there is more to go on. Hopefully it’ll help accelerate my research. Though I’m curious if we’ll see another dream in a similar time frame. If you do, I hope it’s as pleasant as this one. If you must be bothered by something, the least it could do is be nice.” She put down her quill, worrying at her lower lip as she considered her notes.

“Did Salem experience this dream at the same time?” Ryner asked. “And did your family find out you were having them while you were home?”

Nodding, Aaron refrained from admitting that he didn’t just hope the next dream was a pleasant one: he hoped it never came. Unfortunately, he feared he might not be so lucky.

“He did, yes,” he answered Ryner’s question. “To my knowledge, no one else knows. Salem tried to talk about it while we were still there, but I was quick to put an end to that.”

He ran a hand down his face, bringing it back up to massage his temple. “You know as well as I do that the walls at home have ears, and confidential details aside, I don’t need rumours flying around the servants’ quarters that I’m sharing dreams with a suspected rebel.”

“Don’t worry about the investigation. It’s little more than a facade to cover my mother’s pride. Though, Salem does seem to lack a certain survival instinct.” Ryner chuckled with a shake of her head. “Good job containing it. It would be a disaster if more of your family got involved. I’m glad I can count on you. With all this information in your head, I suppose it’s best you focus on mental magic as a major as difficult and risky as it is.”

Aaron couldn’t help but chuckle, relieved to see that he wasn’t the only one who thought Salem seemed to struggle with the idea that jumping off a cliff would not make him fly. But the humour was short-lived, an air of solemnity falling over Aaron once again. “My thoughts exactly,” he agreed. “It’s like you said before, Your Highness: Now that I have confidential information in my head, I have even more responsibility to protect myself.”

His smile did return for a moment as he recalled something. “Through force, duplicity, or any other means necessary, I think is how you phrased it.”

He shook his head, serious once more. “The difficulty doesn’t bother me, and the risk… well, I think it’s worth it. I think I can overcome it. If I can follow Hannah’s advice, anyway. It seems to have worked well for her.” He absently spun his ring as he spoke, but at that moment he stopped, recalling something pertinent from their meeting.

“Oh, but speaking of confidential information, is there anything you can tell me about ‘the Hive’? Hannah made it sound like a party line of mental mages; they all hook their minds together and… talk, or share consciousness, or something. Apparently you lose your privacy to it.” Aaron wrinkled his nose in distaste, despite himself. “She made it sound like there would be pressure to join, but I’m sure you can understand why I’d rather keep as much privacy as I can.”

He shuddered just to think of it. It wasn’t just Council secrets and nightmares he had hidden in his mind; the floor plan of the entire Noila castle, schedules of the servants and guards, and a highly secret and illegal mausoleum tucked away on castle grounds made up just some of the privileged information he had access to. He didn’t even want to think of the consequences he’d incur if anyone not bound by vows of confidentiality were to be literally picking through his brain.

“The Hive? There shouldn’t be any pressure to join. It’s entirely optional.” Ryner assured Aaron. “The Hive is just a place where the mental students can find support in each other because other students tend to ostracize them. We strongly encourage that they continue to interact with their peers outside the program as well. The more people know about them, the less likely they are to avoid and fear them. Privacy shouldn’t be an issue either. The keystone that holds the base spell that created and stabilizes the mental link will eject you and protect you from the rest of the students in the event you feel uncomfortable. Its process is entirely automatic and is far too advanced for any student to override it. Plus, an instructor regularly refreshes the enchantments on it. You should have nothing to fear from them.” Ryner tapped her fingers on her desk.

“However, I will speak with my team about it. Just in case, I’ll have them run interference and remind students about the privacy clauses of our school. And if that doesn’t work and they’re still pestering you,” Ryner leaned forward, a wicked glint in her eye. “You have quite the weapon in your pocket. I highly doubt someone as secretive as your Count would care to know his mage is being infiltrated. Twist your words right and maybe you can earn a little favor with him. I technically can only interfere so far but Varis has far more right to defend you than I. And as long as he doesn’t kill or harm them well,” Ryner sat back with a shrug, “What can I do about it?”

Aaron smirked at the Princess’ mischief. He had to admit, despite their… strained relationship, the idea that he could rely on his Count was a reassuring one. That was how things were meant to be, at least in Aaron’s ideal world; a mage serves his master faithfully and from it gains a stalwart ally. Granted, this was not an ideal world, but while he was pretty sure Varis would throw him under the bus for any number of reasons, the Count at least had a vested interest in the security of his mage’s mind. Despite the connotation, the thought was strangely comforting.

The Princess’ information was likewise a welcome relief, although a shadow of doubt still poked at the back of Aaron’s mind. “That is reassuring, thank you. Though, if it’s all the same to you Your Highness, I’d like to relay what Hannah told me about the Hive to one of your team just in case.”

“Of course. Would you like to commit it to paper and I can send it to them or would you like me to set up a meeting with them tomorrow?” Ryner asked. “I’m happy to oblige either way.”

“Paper should be fine. All things considered, there isn’t much to tell.” Aaron replied, the Princess handing him a pad and pen. He wrote quickly in elegant script - turns out all those lines were good for something after all, as his handwriting no longer looked so much like it was photocopied from a cursive instructional - and signed the bottom for authenticity. Folding it in half, he handed it back to the Princess with his thanks.

Ryner read over the paper, surprise written over her face. “Hannah said all this? If even half of this is true, this is incredibly concerning. We’ll absolutely look into this. For your safety and the safety of future students.” Ryner’s eyes narrowed. “Did your handwriting change, Aaron? Forgive me but it’s not quite as stiff as it used… Ah.” Ryner laid it on the side of her desk and glanced at the clock.

“Oh goodness. It’s probably about time we both find our way to bed.” Ryner chuckled as she stood and made her way around, taking Aaron’s hand. “Now, I need you to remember. My doors are always open to your Aaron, no matter where you are and no matter who you serve. There is always a place for you here. Whenever you need me, I’ll be there, okay?”

Aaron’s ears flushed bashfully at the Princess’ words, though he couldn’t help but cast his eyes down as that little creature of doubt Varis had planted before the break started gnawing at the back of his head once again. He wanted to believe her, he really did; she sounded sincere, and she’d been so much help to him despite her many responsibilities, but did he really have a place in front of her, or was this just a showing of remorse for other deeds? She talked about his assignment to Varis as if it wasn’t her doing, as if she hadn’t personally plucked him from his life in her household and thrown him to the snakes. She didn’t seem to think him worth keeping around in any official capacity - was this just her way of softening the blow?

As much as the doubt rent him in two, previous weeks had taken too much of a toll on Aaron for him to continue down that miserable road at the moment. He took a deep breath, giving the Princess’ hand an appreciative squeeze. “I’ll remember,” he promised. He had to take a moment to collect himself before he spoke again; despite his lingering uncertainty, Ryner’s kindness and the relief of getting all of his concerns off his chest crashed over him like a wave, and with his exhaustion on top of it all, he felt like he was moments away from just unraveling at the seams. A lump grew in his throat from the intensity of it all, but he swallowed it with a deep breath before finally meeting the Princess’ gaze. “Thank you, Your Highness. This has helped me more than you know.”

Clearing his throat, Aaron stood, looking - and feeling - much more like himself. “So, I can get those recordings from my mother?” He asked, getting ready to leave.

“Yes, you can. Or if you have something connected to a cloud, I believe I can get someone to send it to you through my cloud?” Ryner frowned a little. “I’m not quite sure what these clouds are but we can figure out a way to send them directly to you if you want them quicker. Now, don’t be a stranger or don’t think I won’t pull you out of class just to hear about your nights.” Ryner joked but pulled him into a tight hug before letting him leave.

Aaron couldn't help but laugh a little, returning the Princess’ hug somewhat more gently. “I’m sure we can figure something out,” he assured her, stepping toward the door. “I might write home and have a few more things sent in anyway, and I'll see Mr. Deshane about that application. I think I've made up my mind.” He gave her a smile and a customary bow, taking his leave. “Thank you again, Your Highness. Good day.”

Ryner’s smile lasted all of 30 seconds after Aaron left. She tapped on her desk as she thought, the wheels turning quickly in her head. She didn’t like this situation at all. Things were becoming messier than she’d like between his choice of major, Varis’ apparent inability to put more than a few dents in him, and he’s dreaming of her. Ryner had her suspicions at first but with this dream, there was absolutely no doubt. It hurt.

Ryner blinked away the tears threatening to fall and whipped out her phone, hitting the button Ella told her was Varis’ number. She’d thought it odd that one button was an entire cellular phone number but her mage assured her it worked. Something called ‘speed dial’. Ryner didn’t know what that meant but if it got her in contact with the annoying Count then it didn’t really matter. She waited impatiently until a groggily muttered demand snapped into her ear.

“Yes. I know what time it is, Varis. No, I don’t give a damn if you need sleep. You should be thankful that I’m telling you this now.” Ryner snapped right back. “Stop acting like a fledgling and grow up. Your part of the bargain just walked out of my doors and things are deteriorating in a way I do not like. I need this done last century, do you hear me? The sooner I have him back under my control the better so hurry up.” Ryner waited a moment and hung up right in the middle of his retort. That was sure to aggravate him to no ends and hopefully, that frustration would provide plenty of inspiration to twist the knife in Aaron.

She knew what she was doing was horrific. Willingly sending one of her Starags to Varis of all vampires with these intentions was horribly manipulative. She felt like her father for a moment but she shoved the thought away. She hadn’t worked all these years for a little guilt to trip her up now. The murder had put her plan in jeopardy with Nox shoving herself into the investigations but she’d smooth it over. She could handle a bump or two.

Ryner collapsed into the sitting chair Aaron vacated. Everything was so much. Aaron was just born at the wrong time, in the wrong family, and now she had to turn the pressure up as these dreams kept going. She couldn’t erase his memories for every issue, every time. She only hoped she’d figure out a way to stop them before he saw too much. Everything weighed in on her and she couldn’t stop the sob. The tears came after that and she shook silently as the blood stained her clothes. Pranks on Yvaine? How delightfully awful.

10/27: Aaron & Varis

Judgement

Varis let out another long sigh as he circled another section on this blithering baboon's paper. Seven corrections earlier, Varis left a very polite “See me during my next office hours” on the top, in big swooping letters and underlined only twice instead of the ten times he really wanted. Somehow, every date was off by exactly a century and at one point the student rambled about land acquisition instead of the medical improvement the Magical Medicare expansion of 1862 could have brought and why it failed.

“How do mages manage to live this long?” Varis muttered as he finished the paper, adding a few more petty corrections out of spite. It took more than he realized not to leave a scathing review of the paper, remembering his own grade apparently rested on his students’ review of him, and instead wrote it on the scrap paper filled with insults and jabs from previous papers he'd graded. Why some of these idiots wanted freedom baffled him. They clearly couldn't survive without someone holding their hand their whole lives.

Aaron, on the other hand, was counting down a list of numbers, his ledger on his lap and laptop lying nearby on the bed with several tabs open. He peered carefully between the screen and the ledger, marking down figures, scrawling the occasional simple equation in a scrap notebook nearby. He hadn’t meant to get so swallowed up in his betting history, but he’d been killing time after having finished his regular duties, waiting for Varis to finish his grading. It was a welcome distraction, though; so far in the racing season he’d more than doubled what he started with, though the series of small bets that made it happen had the consequence of being extremely time-consuming to calculate. It didn’t bother him much, though. Took his mind off what he was waiting to do, at least.

But all good things must come to an end, and soon enough Aaron had himself all squared up, with nothing more to balance, and nothing more to do. He hadn’t heard any movement from the study, though a glance at the clock on his laptop made him think Varis should have been done by now. Aaron mused that he might have fallen asleep again, finally sliding off his bed and deciding now was as good a time as any to get this whole affair out of the way. It wasn’t like he could wait much longer, anyway; his complete application to the Mind program was due in a few nights, and he’d be loath to push it any further lest he run into any setbacks. Everything had gone smoothly so far, but he was confident Varis would be able to find something that needed fixing before he could get everything submitted.

If for no other reason than to give himself a few extra seconds, Aaron stretched and pulled a folder labelled “Application” out of a drawer on his vanity, giving the pages within a final flip through before he crossed the hall. He paused outside the study door, taking a second to ground himself (as he’d become accustomed to doing before dealing with Varis) before he knocked.

“Enter.” Varis barked as he slammed his grading folder shut, looking up at the noise. Good. The boy would bring some insignificant detail to his attention and Varis would completely shred any opinion the mage had on it. Excellent timing.

Aaron entered, holding his hands and his folder behind his back after closing the door and bowing, and eyeing Varis’ grading folder curiously. “Oh, pardon me Master, I didn’t think you’d still be at it,” he apologized. “Do you have a moment?”

“Digging your eyes out with a dull spoon is slow going.” Varis commented dryly. “And if I didn't have a moment, I wouldn't have bothered allowing you in. Get to your point.”

Aaron nodded, producing his folder and holding it out for Varis to take if he so desired. “All I need is an appraisal of my arcane major application,” he stated simply. “It needs your approval before I can submit it, and it’s due at the start of the month.”

Varis took the folder, an eyebrow raised in pre-disapproval. Approval? Did Aaron just require approval for everything he did? Varis flipped the folder open and skimmed the first part quickly and his other eyebrow shot up. This boy must have some death wish. Did he forget his Lady liked collecting mental mages? Not to mention all the other risks involved in the school.

“I don't approve. What I've seen of your aptitude doesn't suggest you'd survive the program intact.” Varis continued reading, this time paying careful attention to each section. “I will not risk my newest show mage on a half baked magic school. Do you understand the risks involved? Do you want to end up like Vanessa because you will.” Varis snapped the folder shut and threw it on his desk.

“However, I will entertain you since you've obviously put some amount of effort into something for once. Explain yourself.” Varis demanded as he leaned back in the chair, legs crossed and one hand tapping irritably on the desktop.

“I’ve been deliberating over my reasons for some time but in short, I’d like to prevent a repeat of what happened at the beginning of the term, of any kind,” Aaron explained, fighting down the chill that slithered up his spine at the mere mention of Vanessa. Hopefully Varis was bluffing. “I understand the risks. You’ll find that both the psychological evaluator and my Affinity Mastery professor have approved me for the program, I’ve met or exceeded all the requirements, and I’ve spoken to multiple people at length regarding this decision. Including Her Highness,” he added the last part a touch more insistently, remembering that she and Varis seemed to have some measure of a friendly relationship.

Varis flipped open the folder again to confirm Aaron's claims, stiffening at the mention of Ryner. That would explain the call at that horrific hour. If she expressed her support despite the boy possibly losing his affinity, a major point to their plan, she must have an idea how to twist this. He pursed his lips irritably and clicked his tongue. He did not appreciate her changing the plan with such little notice. The last time brought the two vampires they weren't ready to handle yet. How could this change screw things over?

“You went above my head before consulting me.” Varis's tone turned downright deadly. “These petty officials can be forgiven, even commended as an act of responsibility, but you blatantly disrespect me by going to the Princess herself. Despite my relationship with her, denying you now would be equivalent to publicly disagreeing with her. You've effectively tied my hands in the matter.” Varis looked at the boy, cold fury written across his face and his eyes darkening. In reality, he didn't care, but his irritation at these students coupled with Ryner's recklessness quickly angered him. He snapped at the ground by his feet.

“If you don't want me to embroil your precious princess,” Varis practically spat, “in a horrifying public scandal, you will look me in the eye and beg for the opportunity.”

That spike of fear, like an old friend at this point, shot through Aaron at the Count’s sudden change in demeanour; he very nearly flinched at the tone, and he could practically see the scorn rolling off the vampire. He wanted to elaborate, explain that the Princess had done nothing except offer him the resources to cope with the mental program should he choose it, that he’d only gone to Ryner specifically because he hadn’t made his choice and didn’t want to waste Varis’ time on indecision, but it was clear that now was not the time.

Varis’ command brought with it a combination of reactions, part of Aaron wanting to strangle the bastard for his flagrant disrespect and the other, more sensible part of him wanting to do something like dissipate into the air and be blown with the wind far, far away. Unfortunately, both options were equally ridiculous—after all, strangling a vampire wouldn’t even do anything—and whatever anger was there melted into humiliated defeat, Aaron hanging his head. Maybe he’d been foolish to think he could cling to some shred of dignity, but regardless, he was no less determined to have his request granted. In any case, like so many things, it didn’t seem like he had a choice.

Swallowing his mounting nausea, Aaron did as he was told, falling to his knees before the Count. It took a few seconds and a deep breath to work up the courage to lift his head and look the vampire in the eye, Aaron having to consciously fight down the reflex to look away.

“Master, please,” he began quietly, ears already starting to burn, “I beg you, please grant me this opportunity to learn to protect myself, and become some measure more useful to you than I am.”

Varis let him sit, silently reveling in the boy's embarrassment. The boy really had perfect timing. It made him feel marginally better but he would have words with Ryner today. Tearing the rug out from under people was his job. He leaned down and gripped the mage's chin tightly so he couldn't look away.

“That is barely enough but I guess I'll allow it. You'll have my signature.” Varis sneered. “But you'll have to be punished for this infraction. Imagine if the Princess wanted to discuss your decision before you told me. What a fool I'd seem with no idea of your plans. So I have to take something from you for now. Something valuable enough that its absence will teach you a lesson for the next month. What do you think I should take, boy?”

For a moment, Aaron wished he were a water mage; perhaps then he could melt into a puddle and drip down through the floorboards. If only life were so fair. Good lord, he hated when Varis made him weigh in. It reminded him of when he was a child and his teacher would tell him to fetch a switch to be beaten with, only somehow worse. At least the pain from the switches faded after a few days; with Varis, nothing was ever over so quickly.

Fighting the urge to tear his chin out of Varis’ hand—he thought he’d get used to it, but it seemed he just hated the sensation that much more every time it happened—Aaron did a quick mental inventory. Goodness, he didn’t have much apart from necessities, did he? And as much as the childish part of him wanted to suggest something more inconsequential, he knew that wasn’t an option. Even back home, trying to cheat by bringing over a lighter switch than was necessary always resulted in getting caned that much more harshly. In any case, he doubted Varis would actually take his suggestion into consideration. Aaron had learned quickly that many of Varis’ tactics were just exercises in humiliation.

“If you’re willing to accept a month-long lapse in my training, then I suppose the obvious choice would be Dawn,” he stated flatly, both groaning on the inside and hoping suggesting something harsh might appease the Count a touch.

“Lapse in training? There are plenty of weapons to choose from at the arena.” Varis sat back, replacing his hand with his shoe under the mage's chin. “That is an excellent suggestion. I would have reduced your punishment by a week but this attitude is unacceptable. Do not speak to me like that again or I'll take it away for longer.” Varis snapped his fingers at the door. “Fetch and return in this exact position.”

The shoe made Aaron bristle, but the equivalent of a long line of question marks burst through his head at Varis’ reprimand. Attitude? What attitude? He was groveling on his knees, having been carefully training a facade of neutrality and a habit of perfect obedience for his entire damn life, but apparently Varis considered anything short of fawning sycophancy to be attitude.

Keeping his mouth shut this time, Aaron rose obediently and all but bolted to his room, pulling Dawn from its spot in the closet with a measure more reluctance. He forced himself not to hesitate too long, only pulling it out of the scabbard a few inches to check the blade as he walked back. He would have liked the chance to oil it before Varis stored it away, but he was on thin enough ice as it was. He could only hope rust wouldn’t set in before he got it back. He snapped the blade back into the scabbard before returning to the study, settling into the same position as before, as instructed.

Varis waited until he felt the slight push of Aaron's chin to look up from his application folder. He'd picked it up while the boy took his time fetching his weapon but Varis couldn't fault him. He was only human after all.

“Drop it.” Varis ordered as he continued to read. “Walk me through this relaxation plan or whatever you have in here.”

It was lucky Aaron had a talented poker face, because that meant he was able to fight down the snarl that threatened on his face. Gently, he placed Dawn on the floor at Varis’ feet, forcing himself to calm down. Irritation still pricked at him from Varis’ attitude comment, but now was not the time.

“It’s a mandatory component of the program,” he explained, no small amount annoyed at the resistance of Varis’ shoe under his chin as he spoke. “For an hour after each mental training session, I have to do something to relieve stress. I’ve been told that my usual method of exhausting myself won’t work, so I’ve replaced training with simple dances like waltzes, accompanied by recordings of my past cello performances.”

He finally let out the breath he’d been holding, his anger fading and leaving only mild exhaustion in its wake. “As well, once my application goes through I planned to send away for some things from home. Old pictures, journals, things of that nature. I’ve been told repeatedly that keeping in touch with my past will help lower the risk of affinity loss.” He shifted a little on his knees, putting his hands in his lap. “There’s a draft for a month’s worth of this plan in the folder, though it’s flexible enough to change depending on how the program affects me.”

Varis read through it with half hearted interest until he mentioned waltzes. Dancing suggested he would need a partner, someone he felt comfortable with if he was supposed to relieve stress. That would put a damper on his plans if the boy had a reliable source to calm him down. He tapped his other foot as he thought. He did not like this one bit but Ryner stole that choice from him. Another thing to yell at her about.

“Very well.” He set the folder down and pulled out a pen, his hand stilling just before he signed. “However, you will introduce me to whoever you waltz with. We'll have a formal dinner with them and their vampire. I will not tolerate you mingling with anyone beneath your station, is that understood?” Varis would ensure he could force some distance between them. He couldn't control the boy's family items anymore thanks to this mess so he'd have to dip his fingers further into his social life.

Aaron nodded; at least, as much as he could against Varis’ shoe. He’d been considering including Lilie in his waltzing plan, but something about Varis getting involved with her rubbed him the wrong way. After having spent a few months with the Count, Aaron had figured it best to keep people he cared about more or less out of the situation. He had a few other ideas, luckily, though he’d have to think on it more later. For the moment, he simply replied, “Understood, Master.”

“You're dismissed.” Varis signed the page and dropped the folder on the floor next to the mage. He moved the foot under Aaron's chin and settled it on top of Dawn's sheath, watching Aaron closely as he did.

Aaron watched Varis place his foot down, but had to force himself to tear his eyes away when he stepped on Dawn, another flash of anger striking him. Instead he focused on collecting his folder and standing, giving Varis a bow and a curt, “Thank you, Master,” before taking his leave as quickly as could be done politely, eyes glued to the folder. When he got back to his room, Varis might have heard the thump of his vanity drawer closing just a little harder than necessary.

ＦＩＮＡＬ ＦＡＮＴＡＳＹ Ｘ｜Ｖ： Ｔｈｅ Ｂｌｅｓｓｅｄ Ｔｗｅｌｖｅ

---

J’torha had to consciously resist glaring at the lalafell - so quick to business, didn’t anyone around here know how to have any fun? - and turned his attention to Liveria or whoever she was, grinning as she practically buzzed with excitement. He quirked a brow at the mention of… someone, who thought the young lady would fail, but was satisfied to know that his deeds would allow the girl to return home triumphant - and hopefully with someone to thank.

Producing the documents with only a little bit of flourish, J’torha offered them to Lyriva. “Ask and ye shall receive,” he announced, perhaps a little too confident for a bloke who couldn’t read the documents he’d procured. “I think you’ll find included everything you need.”

Her offer of food and a bath was certainly attractive, the remainder of J’torha’s lingering irritation melting away at the thought. “Let’s waste no time, then,” he suggested cheerily, though no sooner had he turned in search of his sea shanty-singing friend than the very same bounded up to them, doubled over in laughter and stuttering on about a jumping.

“They have no faith!” J’torha complained loudly to X’gihl, joining in on his contagious laughter. He waved off the Seeker girl’s concerns, shaking his head. “My dear, when my plans go south, it’s because I’m headed for the Sagolii,” he purred to her teasingly, offering a theatrical flourish before turning back to his newest friend. “Though, the lady has a point. I think of all of us, you’re the one who needs a good wash.”

---

extolling his virtues to @Hero, comforting @Amalyra and teasing his hetero life partner @EvictedElement