Author: Marina
Story:
The Dragon WorldChallenge: Milk Chocolate 7 ([in]tolerance), Rum Raisin 1 (mother - My Treat: what turned Geran wrong, if anything?)
Toppings/Extras: Gummy Bunnies (August card #1 from
origfic_bingo: xeno/aliens/different cultures), Hot Fudge, Whipped Cream (Geran is sixteen, just shy of the age of maturity), Malt (Birthday prompt from Miyabi: Be clever, not beautiful/be clever, not beautiful/if your goal is plain survival/well then, be clever, not beautiful - Hawksley Workman, “Clever Not Beautiful”), Peaches (In any case, you will have to prove yourself, and you will spare no energy in the attempt)
Word Count: 896
Rating: PG
Summary: Geran’s first lesson in dark magic.
Notes: For Casino Night (Cookie Crumbs, Hot Fudge, Whipped Cream), Casey’s Treat, and our second entry for 8/7. I wouldn’t say any one event in Geran’s life led him to the decisions he made as an adult, but moments like this one show the facets of his personality that did.
“That kind of magic is a waste of your potential.”
Though the obvious disdain in his teacher’s voice rankled him, Geran inwardly acknowledged that it was the first sensible thing she had said or done since their meeting. Lady Maire, nearly four years older than he and the daughter of his father’s closest friend, was considered by almost everyone to be the most eligible option for his future consort. Nobody seemed more set on it than she did. She had let him know this in the most forward manner possible aside from saying so outright, mostly through her body language.
Objectively, he had to admit that Maire was very beautiful in a very traditional way. Most of her childhood roundness had already disappeared, leaving behind the more shapely and substantial figure his country valued in regards to childbearing. Her hair, the color of bitter chocolate, curled perfectly. Her wide, dark eyes had plenty of lashes, and her skin had probably never seen the sun for longer than a minute or two at a time. She was everything he had been told he should want in a bride.
She was also widely known to be the most talented young mage in the country. For that reason only, he felt she could be useful and even tolerable.
“What do you know of dark magic?” she asked, when he did not reply.
Geran lifted his chin. “It is forbidden to practice dark magic in the South, you know that.”
She smirked. “That did not stop me,” she said. “My parents were adept at smuggling books to me during their visits. I found more buried deep in the recesses of the library at my school, and read them when I was certain of my privacy.” She began a slow turn around a nearby work table, running one immaculate fingernail along the grooves of its ornately carved edges. “You know why they forbid it in the South, of course.”
“I have heard some things,” he said slowly. “Mainly that they believe dark magic is evil.” Reuben had certainly conveyed that sentiment often enough, and he knew that Maire was aware of that fact-she might not have had nearly as much face-to-face communication with the man as Geran had, but it was something that he had felt strongly about and impressed deeply on the consciences of his people. Indeed, most Southerners felt uneasy about magic of any kind.
Geran’s mother had also told him this, and she both agreed and disagreed. ‘I would say that dark magic is hard to handle, not necessarily evil,’ she had written, in a letter he had reread so often that he had nearly memorized it. ‘All magic has a life of its own, and dark magic especially. It can be hard to control, but you must control it. Otherwise, it can corrupt. If you can harness it properly, you have the world in your hands. Children often do not have the strength of will to master it, however.’
“They do,” Maire agreed, “but I think that that belief stems from a deeper fear.” Her voice took on a dreamy lilt as she continued. “Dark magic is very powerful. It does not have the same concrete limits that other forms do-it is limited only by the scope of imagination. In my studies, I have discovered spells that most of my teachers did not even think possible.”
Here she paused her speech for a moment, closing her eyes as if recalling her knowledge. Geran did not prompt her to continue. Instead, he turned her words over in his mind. He thought he could see where she intended to take those threads of ideas, and thus far he had no reason to doubt her opinion.
After a moment, she turned her head toward him expectantly. He gave no reply, and she went on. “So, then, why would Southern leaders allow children, particularly foreign children who have no choice in their upbringing and who can pass through the shield whenever they please, to study and use something so volatile?”
“I see,” he said.
“Good.” Having circled to the far side of the table, she stopped to reach for a wooden rod the length of her forearm. “You’ll be the one dealing with Reuben in a few years’ time. It’s best for you to learn such things now, to save more time being wasted.” She leaned forward, her features molding into an expression meant to be enticing. Geran forced back the urge to mock her for it. “But you have come to make use of my knowledge, so let us begin that at once.”
“Certainly.”
Maire tossed him the rod. “You’ll need that to start,” she said. “Dark magic is easier to control at first if you have a tangible focal point. But I imagine, with your talents, that you’ll outgrow it shortly. I never used it, myself.”
Geran kept his expression as passive as possible to mask a sudden conclusion: perhaps his mother was right about the corruptive power of dark magic. Maire did not look as though she were its master. Her arrogance seemed too strong.
But I will be, he privately resolved. I will never let magic get the better of me. I will learn from this woman what I can, and on my own I will learn to control it.
Aloud, he only said, “I hope so.”