Knowing Magic
More of the fantasy-world version of The Impulsive Rescue -- as I've said, this one is based off a roleplaying game between a friend and I. I owe her lots for this AU of my story. I hope you enjoy it! I'm also using this for hc_bingo for the fill "fall from grace."
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Everett looked around at everyone else attending the fancy society party, feeling distinctly out of place -- most of the guests weren’t summons, like he was. Of the summons that were attending, they were surely all true bodyguards. Everett merely looked like a bodyguard to anybody who didn’t do more than the most cursory magical scan. Since he was dressed in a uniform of Desmond’s House colors of midnight blue and buttercup yellow, nobody should bother to check him.
His master had disguised him so no one would discover his true nature as a sex summon. Creatures such as he weren’t supposed to attend fancy parties, much less attend as their master’s date. Unlike many of the young men at this gathering, Desmond didn’t escort anyone -- he had said he loved Everett and would go with nobody else.
Scanning the party, Everett noticed just how dressed up everyone was. The women’s skirts spread out beneath them in multiple layers. Many of the skirts and matching corsets were embroidered with clear, tiny, sparkling jewels. Most of the dresses were strangely muted, monochrome pastel colors for all the sparkle. One redheaded woman, he noticed, wore a dress in deep red with gauzy burnt orange accents and no tiny clear jewels -- its layered skirt looked like it was aflame, as did the short, fluttery layered sleeves.
Many of the men also muted colors -- grays and beiges, mostly -- with small accents in whatever their house colors were. Some chose to wear a ruffled shirt with their House colors, though others simply wore their family crest sewn on the left breast pocket and didn’t wear any colors at all besides those on the crestl. While the women were layered and sparkling, the men were much more pared down, aside from the ruffled shirts.
Desmond followed the ruffled shirt pattern, wearing a midnight blue one under his gray outer coat. He looked...dashing in his outfit, the ruffles of the shirt contrasting with the sharp lines of the rest of his clothes.
“Do you want me to get you anything to drink?” Everett murmured, looking over at the drinks table, which was draped with red and black cloth. Silent servants manned it, all with strange, blank looks on their faces.
“I could use a glass of crimson wine, if they have it,” Desmond said. “I need to go talk to a few people, unfortunately.” He winced, as if the ensuing conversations wouldn’t be pleasant.
“Alright,” Everett murmured. He nodded to his lover and headed towards the drinks table.
He knew it was a bit strange for a bodyguard -- or somebody who appeared to be one -- to get drinks rather than follow his charge, but he figured it was fine as long as he kept Desmond in his line of sight.
* * *
When Everett finally got the crimson wine for his lover, Desmond had, somehow, disappeared. Worried, he scanned the ballroom for him, not seeing the man anywhere. When he couldn’t spot so much as a trace of his lover, he walked across the room towards the large mullioned windows with their pointed arches.
“I didn’t think your type went to these sorts of parties.”
The voice startled Everett, who nearly dropped the wine, sending it sloshing around in its silver goblet. His heart leaped into his throat as he looked for the source of the words. Everett didn’t see anybody for a moment, until his eyes landed on a young blonde girl of maybe ten years -- she sat in a wicker wheelchair.
How could she know what he was?
“There are other summons at this party. It’s -- not uncommon,” he said, not looking her directly in the
She didn’t look directly at him, either, but there was a distinct aura of assurance about her. “Not like you.” She paused. “At least not this early in the night.”
There was no point in denying it. “How -- how did you know?” he asked.
“I know magic,” she said, staring off into the distance.
Everett gripped the goblet of wine harder than he needed to. “You are...very proficient for your age. For any age, really.” He took a deep breath as his wings quivered. “I would -- appreciate it if you didn’t tell anybody about this.”
The girl shrugged. “It’s not my business if you’re working a different job than you should be,” she muttered. “Does your master just not like leaving you at home?”
“Master Desmond doesn’t like to leave me at home, no,” he said. “It is -- safest for me to maintain a bodyguard disguise, since he likes to take me when he goes out.” For propriety’s sake, he had to look like something other than the sex summon he was if Desmond wanted him out in public.
“But if he needs a bodyguard, he isn’t safe,” she said, fixing him with an intent stare.
Everett flinched -- part of him agreed their arrangement might not be safe, but Desmond had assured him many times he didn’t need a bodyguard.
“My master tells me he doesn’t need protection at this time,” Everett said.
The girl raised one eyebrow when something came shooting out of air towards them -- a dragon.
What was a dragon -- even one the size of a housecat -- doing in the ballroom?
The girl put her hands to her lips and whistled -- the sound reverberated, eerie and piercing. Everett shivered upon hearing it.
The dragon charged, shrieking.
Everett’s heart thundered in his chest and blood rushed in his ears. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the child raise move arms in front of her body -- was she trying to shield herself with her bare hands? While she had said she “knew magic,” Everett didn’t trust her on that. She was so young -- never mind that he was technically much younger than she was, chronologically.
He leaped in front of her and put up a shield -- one designed only for show. It flickered in front of him. Everett hoped it would hold.
The dragon zoomed towards him, right at his shield.
It didn’t hold.
“Honestly,” the girl muttered, grabbing Everett and shoving him to the side before the housecat-sized dragon could hit him. He stumbled, falling to the ground. At least he had moved out of the small dragon’s path.
She enclosed the creature inside a clear bubble, in mere moments.
That woman in the incongruous red dress ran towards them yelling, “Niasa, Niasa.”
“This is your pet?” the girl muttered, shaking her head.
Everett shook on the ground when he heard Desmond’s footsteps -- he would recognize his lover’s gait anywhere. He arrived on the scene and pulled Everett up by the arm. Shaking, Everett leaned on his lover, all while under the gaze of the redheaded woman and the girl in the wheelchair.
“What kind of bodyguard summon can’t fight off a tiny pet dragon?” the redhead asked, her eyes wide.
“The kind that isn’t a bodyguard,” the girl said, giving Everett and Desmond a look.
The redhead’s eyes went even wider. “You’re a sex summon, aren’t you?” she said.
“Why, that would be scandalous,” the blonde girl murmured.
Everett could already hear gossip flying about the ballroom, though nobody seemed to want to get close to the small dragon -- despite its being enclosed in a magic bubble. Even with everyone staying away, their whispers brushed against him, little currents of air that sent shivers of dread up his spine. His stomach dropped to his feet -- with this, Desmond would surely lose much of his good reputation. He had ruined things for his lover.
Desmond tightened the arm he had around Everett. “So -- so what if he is? I still love him,” he said.
What? Everett couldn’t have heard that correctly. He knew his master loved him, but to hear it like that, in public -- it struck him as impossible.
Distress flashed across the girl’s face -- if only for the briefest moment. In less than a second, she appeared composed again and looked at the redheaded woman. “Your dragon should sleep for a few hours, but I would take her home now,” she murmured.
The girl passed the dragon -- still in the bubble -- over to its proper owner. Then, she removed the bubble, which vanished into nothing, leaving the sleeping pet in the woman’s arms.
“Are you -- alright?” Everett asked the girl, remembering the distressed expression on her face.
“I should turn in for the night,” she said. “I would suggest getting out of here before you give the gossips anything else to talk about.”
“I think I’m gonna go now. Um, goodbye,” the redhead muttered, turning around and leaving.
“She’s right -- we should leave, too,” Everett murmured to Desmond.
His lover nodded. “Yes, we should.” He looked at the girl. “Goodbye,” he said to her.
She simply nodded back at him. Everett could only manage a single nod, not a verbal goodbye of any kind. He put down the glass of crimson wine he still held on a windowsill. Guilt twisted his stomach as the gossip battered him, wave after wave. He knew to the bottom of his heart that Desmond had fallen far in the eyes of his society company, openly keeping a bodyguard who was not a bodyguard.
Everett wasn’t worth it -- he hung his head as Desmond lead him away from the main ballroom.
When they were in a quieter hallway, Everett said, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Desmond asked.
Shouldn’t that be obvious? “For -- embarrassing you,” he said.
To Everett’s vast surprise, Desmond embraced him. “I don’t mind everyone knowing. Who cares what they say?” he murmured.
“I’m not worth it,” he muttered, though he didn’t let go of his lover.
“You don’t get to decide that,” Desmond said, hugging him yet tighter.
While Everett felt awful about his failure, he did appreciate the warmth of Desmond’s body. “But I’m just a sex summon,” he whispered.
“A sex summon I happen to love,” he said.
“I love you, too,” Everett murmured.
But what would their love do to poor Desmond? Everett cared far less about his own fate than he did about his beloved’s.
If anything horrible happened to Desmond because of him, Everett didn’t know what he would do with himself.
---------
Everett looked around at everyone else attending the fancy society party, feeling distinctly out of place -- most of the guests weren’t summons, like he was. Of the summons that were attending, they were surely all true bodyguards. Everett merely looked like a bodyguard to anybody who didn’t do more than the most cursory magical scan. Since he was dressed in a uniform of Desmond’s House colors of midnight blue and buttercup yellow, nobody should bother to check him.
His master had disguised him so no one would discover his true nature as a sex summon. Creatures such as he weren’t supposed to attend fancy parties, much less attend as their master’s date. Unlike many of the young men at this gathering, Desmond didn’t escort anyone -- he had said he loved Everett and would go with nobody else.
Scanning the party, Everett noticed just how dressed up everyone was. The women’s skirts spread out beneath them in multiple layers. Many of the skirts and matching corsets were embroidered with clear, tiny, sparkling jewels. Most of the dresses were strangely muted, monochrome pastel colors for all the sparkle. One redheaded woman, he noticed, wore a dress in deep red with gauzy burnt orange accents and no tiny clear jewels -- its layered skirt looked like it was aflame, as did the short, fluttery layered sleeves.
Many of the men also muted colors -- grays and beiges, mostly -- with small accents in whatever their house colors were. Some chose to wear a ruffled shirt with their House colors, though others simply wore their family crest sewn on the left breast pocket and didn’t wear any colors at all besides those on the crestl. While the women were layered and sparkling, the men were much more pared down, aside from the ruffled shirts.
Desmond followed the ruffled shirt pattern, wearing a midnight blue one under his gray outer coat. He looked...dashing in his outfit, the ruffles of the shirt contrasting with the sharp lines of the rest of his clothes.
“Do you want me to get you anything to drink?” Everett murmured, looking over at the drinks table, which was draped with red and black cloth. Silent servants manned it, all with strange, blank looks on their faces.
“I could use a glass of crimson wine, if they have it,” Desmond said. “I need to go talk to a few people, unfortunately.” He winced, as if the ensuing conversations wouldn’t be pleasant.
“Alright,” Everett murmured. He nodded to his lover and headed towards the drinks table.
He knew it was a bit strange for a bodyguard -- or somebody who appeared to be one -- to get drinks rather than follow his charge, but he figured it was fine as long as he kept Desmond in his line of sight.
* * *
When Everett finally got the crimson wine for his lover, Desmond had, somehow, disappeared. Worried, he scanned the ballroom for him, not seeing the man anywhere. When he couldn’t spot so much as a trace of his lover, he walked across the room towards the large mullioned windows with their pointed arches.
“I didn’t think your type went to these sorts of parties.”
The voice startled Everett, who nearly dropped the wine, sending it sloshing around in its silver goblet. His heart leaped into his throat as he looked for the source of the words. Everett didn’t see anybody for a moment, until his eyes landed on a young blonde girl of maybe ten years -- she sat in a wicker wheelchair.
How could she know what he was?
“There are other summons at this party. It’s -- not uncommon,” he said, not looking her directly in the
She didn’t look directly at him, either, but there was a distinct aura of assurance about her. “Not like you.” She paused. “At least not this early in the night.”
There was no point in denying it. “How -- how did you know?” he asked.
“I know magic,” she said, staring off into the distance.
Everett gripped the goblet of wine harder than he needed to. “You are...very proficient for your age. For any age, really.” He took a deep breath as his wings quivered. “I would -- appreciate it if you didn’t tell anybody about this.”
The girl shrugged. “It’s not my business if you’re working a different job than you should be,” she muttered. “Does your master just not like leaving you at home?”
“Master Desmond doesn’t like to leave me at home, no,” he said. “It is -- safest for me to maintain a bodyguard disguise, since he likes to take me when he goes out.” For propriety’s sake, he had to look like something other than the sex summon he was if Desmond wanted him out in public.
“But if he needs a bodyguard, he isn’t safe,” she said, fixing him with an intent stare.
Everett flinched -- part of him agreed their arrangement might not be safe, but Desmond had assured him many times he didn’t need a bodyguard.
“My master tells me he doesn’t need protection at this time,” Everett said.
The girl raised one eyebrow when something came shooting out of air towards them -- a dragon.
What was a dragon -- even one the size of a housecat -- doing in the ballroom?
The girl put her hands to her lips and whistled -- the sound reverberated, eerie and piercing. Everett shivered upon hearing it.
The dragon charged, shrieking.
Everett’s heart thundered in his chest and blood rushed in his ears. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the child raise move arms in front of her body -- was she trying to shield herself with her bare hands? While she had said she “knew magic,” Everett didn’t trust her on that. She was so young -- never mind that he was technically much younger than she was, chronologically.
He leaped in front of her and put up a shield -- one designed only for show. It flickered in front of him. Everett hoped it would hold.
The dragon zoomed towards him, right at his shield.
It didn’t hold.
“Honestly,” the girl muttered, grabbing Everett and shoving him to the side before the housecat-sized dragon could hit him. He stumbled, falling to the ground. At least he had moved out of the small dragon’s path.
She enclosed the creature inside a clear bubble, in mere moments.
That woman in the incongruous red dress ran towards them yelling, “Niasa, Niasa.”
“This is your pet?” the girl muttered, shaking her head.
Everett shook on the ground when he heard Desmond’s footsteps -- he would recognize his lover’s gait anywhere. He arrived on the scene and pulled Everett up by the arm. Shaking, Everett leaned on his lover, all while under the gaze of the redheaded woman and the girl in the wheelchair.
“What kind of bodyguard summon can’t fight off a tiny pet dragon?” the redhead asked, her eyes wide.
“The kind that isn’t a bodyguard,” the girl said, giving Everett and Desmond a look.
The redhead’s eyes went even wider. “You’re a sex summon, aren’t you?” she said.
“Why, that would be scandalous,” the blonde girl murmured.
Everett could already hear gossip flying about the ballroom, though nobody seemed to want to get close to the small dragon -- despite its being enclosed in a magic bubble. Even with everyone staying away, their whispers brushed against him, little currents of air that sent shivers of dread up his spine. His stomach dropped to his feet -- with this, Desmond would surely lose much of his good reputation. He had ruined things for his lover.
Desmond tightened the arm he had around Everett. “So -- so what if he is? I still love him,” he said.
What? Everett couldn’t have heard that correctly. He knew his master loved him, but to hear it like that, in public -- it struck him as impossible.
Distress flashed across the girl’s face -- if only for the briefest moment. In less than a second, she appeared composed again and looked at the redheaded woman. “Your dragon should sleep for a few hours, but I would take her home now,” she murmured.
The girl passed the dragon -- still in the bubble -- over to its proper owner. Then, she removed the bubble, which vanished into nothing, leaving the sleeping pet in the woman’s arms.
“Are you -- alright?” Everett asked the girl, remembering the distressed expression on her face.
“I should turn in for the night,” she said. “I would suggest getting out of here before you give the gossips anything else to talk about.”
“I think I’m gonna go now. Um, goodbye,” the redhead muttered, turning around and leaving.
“She’s right -- we should leave, too,” Everett murmured to Desmond.
His lover nodded. “Yes, we should.” He looked at the girl. “Goodbye,” he said to her.
She simply nodded back at him. Everett could only manage a single nod, not a verbal goodbye of any kind. He put down the glass of crimson wine he still held on a windowsill. Guilt twisted his stomach as the gossip battered him, wave after wave. He knew to the bottom of his heart that Desmond had fallen far in the eyes of his society company, openly keeping a bodyguard who was not a bodyguard.
Everett wasn’t worth it -- he hung his head as Desmond lead him away from the main ballroom.
When they were in a quieter hallway, Everett said, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Desmond asked.
Shouldn’t that be obvious? “For -- embarrassing you,” he said.
To Everett’s vast surprise, Desmond embraced him. “I don’t mind everyone knowing. Who cares what they say?” he murmured.
“I’m not worth it,” he muttered, though he didn’t let go of his lover.
“You don’t get to decide that,” Desmond said, hugging him yet tighter.
While Everett felt awful about his failure, he did appreciate the warmth of Desmond’s body. “But I’m just a sex summon,” he whispered.
“A sex summon I happen to love,” he said.
“I love you, too,” Everett murmured.
But what would their love do to poor Desmond? Everett cared far less about his own fate than he did about his beloved’s.
If anything horrible happened to Desmond because of him, Everett didn’t know what he would do with himself.