marlowemuses | A cruel reality when you've had too much to dream

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A cruel reality when you've had too much to dream

On most days, Adam thought he knew all there was to know about himself. He had studied his skin and the capabilities of his muscles. He had interrogated every thought inside his own mind. He knew the depth of his capacity for exhaustion, and how much he could do on how little sleep.

He did not know, on the afternoon of the prince's eighteenth birthday, that over the course of the day things had been learned about him, through spell and revelation, that he did not know about himself.

Adam knew that there were celebrations throughout the kingdom for the prince, but Adam had no time for them. He had the day off of work at the shipyards, but that only meant that he had time to catch up on his chores at home, which would allow him some time to catch up on his studies. He knew that the royal family was magic. A fairy king and his family, and the middle son, the magic son, who would inherit everything. He knew, esoterically, that the fairy-dreamer kings of their realm took magic consorts who aided and increased their power.

Adam had no interest in any of it. This was mostly due to self-preservation for his pride and his heart. He knew he was not magic and did not belong in that world. Nothing he could do would ever produce an aptitude for that kind of magic. So he forbade himself from wanting it.

And if, in the months since his own birthday, he'd found lost things easier and broken things were more swiftly fixed by his hands, he attributed it only to his own intelligence and aptitude. If the weather suited itself to his mood and the flowers grew around his parents' house in a riotous profusion that he'd never seen before, Adam thought little of any of it. All these things had logical explanations, or they were mere coincidences.

He did not know that the king had cast a spell for his son, and his face had appeared in a basin of water, and a map had glowed to mark his home and the back field where Adam was hard at work repairing a broken fence.

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It had been a much more awkward day than anticipated.

Until that day, Ronan's father must have assumed that his son was a late bloomer or perhaps very selective. He may have thought that he was a romantic soul and that he was waiting for the day his likely true love would be revealed. The former assumption was not wrong, the latter was. He must have realized his error once he saw that his son's destined magician had a decidedly male face. While it was true that not all of these matches were destined for romance, most of them were. And he just might have been able to excuse this as such if it weren't for the fact that Ronan's entire face had flushed.

Really, it had been an exceedingly awkward day.

Ronan told himself several things on the walk over. It didn't mean anything beyond what it was on the surface. He just needed a magician to help him. There were no further signs they were destined for a torrid or even tepid romance. He'd just go up to the young man and tell him that he'd come to whisk him away to a life of luxury and power. Who could resist that?

He stopped by the fence. He'd been told this was where his magician would be. Outside, working. Presumably he was the very tan young man with his back toward him. He looked busy, but Ronan had neither the time nor patience to wait.

"Adam?" he called, doing his best to sound regal. Regal, for him, was just shy of full of himself. "I have to speak with you."

A voice Adam didn't recognize called to him and he set down his hammer and turned. He was sweaty and covered in dirt from wrestling with fallen fence posts, and he wanted nothing more than to collapse into his bed and sleep, though he knew that he had hours of work and study before that could happen.

Of all the figures he expected to be coming across the field, a handsome young man his own age wasn't one of them. The strange boy was tall and dark-haired, dressed in fine clothing that flattered his broad shoulders and slender waist. Adam was badly impressed.

"I'm Adam Parrish." Adam wiped his face on his sleeve, painfully conscious of the smudges of dirt and the ugly, bruise on his cheek. He tilted his chin down as he spoke to make the bruise less visible, even though it meant turning his good ear slightly away. Adam made both calculations, and chose presentation over clarity of sound. He assumed that the stranger was here to hire him for some job, though it was strange to be sought out here and not at the shipyard. "What do you need?"

Tired as he was, his accent came out thickly. Adam hated that this was the first impression he was making on a boy like this. Dirty, beaten, and rural. The kind of person that people saw--or heard--and subsequently assumed that he was worthless in all ways.

Adam turned and Ronan promptly forgot what he was going to say next. His own focus was divided between two things: Adam's horrid clothes and the fact that beneath the dirt smudges, he still looked appealing. Maybe because of it. He was sweaty and--

Ronan refused to accept the fact that at this point, he was doomed. He gathered what was left of his brains (not much) and answered.

"My father saw you when he scryed. You're my magician." He really should have introduced himself. Having gone 18 years with such things largely unneeded, he simply forgot.

It was so implausible that for a moment, Adam could only stare at him. None of that information seemed to apply to Adam Parrish, peasant and laborer.

As appealing as it was for this handsome young man to mistake Adam for a magician, the other half of that particular appellation made Adam's whole being tense up.

"You're wrong," Adam told him. "I'm not a magician, and I don't belong to anyone but myself."

It was relevant information--and Adam wanted to ask--who this boy's father was and why he had been scrying, but telling him that he was wrong was clearly the higher priority.

"I'm not wrong!" Ronan snapped. "And you don't belong to me. We belong to each other." After he said that, Ronan could not believe those words had come out of his mouth. That was definitely not in anything he'd rehearsed in his head or what his father had suggested.

He continued on, less sure of himself but hiding most of his uncertainty. "You are a magician. You'll help my focus my power, guide me, and--" He forgot. It was a long list. "Many other things. We'll give you a room in the castle and you can learn everything there."

Ronan thought that sounded good, but he got the sense that he was making this worse. That feeling only grew stronger when he looked at Adam's face. That stupid, handsome face.

Bewildered by all of this, Adam stared at him with furrowed brow as the strange boy talked. It was only at the end that pieces suddenly started fitting into place, and the guardedness in Adam's demeanor lightened into shock.

In the castle. Magician was one of the words used for the consorts of the fairy rulers. It was the prince's eighteen birthday.

"You're Prince Ronan," Adam concluded. His brain circled back around to process we belong to each other in regards to the prince.

The prince. Who was as handsome as one might expect for a fairy prince, though not especially smart.

At first, Ronan was taken aback. He thought that much was obvious. Just the knowledge that he hadn't been recognized immediately made him stand up straighter so there'd be no doubt.

"Who else would talk to you about scrying and magicians?" Probably a lot of people but Ronan didn't know them and so he didn't care about them.

"You can have a few days to get your things," he said as an afterthought. Further proving Adam's point: he was no smart or at least he had no common sense.

Adam took that as a command. He did not respond well to commands.

Jaw tightening, Adam drew himself up to his full height and lifted his chin, glaring at the prince without any hint of fear. "Or what?" he asked. Whatever the punishment, he would take it rather than bend his pride an inch.

Ronan stared at him in confusion. That hadn't happened before, not unless he was talking to his brothers. With them, he could fight back, but not here. Ronan didn't pick fights with strangers. He didn't lead. He told people what he wanted and they didn't. Now was the exception to one of the unspoken rules in his life.

"Or you can stay here," he said, still taken aback. He rubbed his fingers together idly, then forced himself to be still again. It lasted for a few moments because most of his mind was focused on what the hell he was supposed to do now. It wasn't like he was going to drag Adam kicking and screaming back to his home.

"Fine," Adam said, sharp and stubborn. Prince or no, Adam wasn't going anywhere just because some authority figure snapped his fingers. He set his stance a little more solidly and stared at the prince, waiting for him to leave.

Ronan stared at Adam, waiting for him to say it was a joke or he'd changed his mind. Nothing happened.

"You don't want to?" he asked slowly. "You'll be helping me rule. You do understand what it means to be a magician?"

There were a lot of feelings flowing one into the other right now and Ronan couldn't separate them all. Right now, confusion still dominated.

"I'm not," Adam said, showing the prince his plain, dirty, calloused, magic-less hands.

He was tempted by helping me rule, if that was true. Being handed half the kingdom was a heady gift, and Adam could understand why Ronan was so surprised. It was probably rare for anyone to turn down an offer like that. But Adam didn't believe that he was being offered a position as an equal. He wasn't that naive.

"And I'm not going to abandon everything I've worked to achieve just to play your royal babysitter."

Ronan's mood changed in a moment. Anger flashed across his eyes. His jaw set and he glared at Adam.

"I am not a child. Stay here and rule dirt for all I care." He turned away then. He clenched his hands into fists and stormed the rest of the way back.

Forget that. He didn't need a magician. And pretty or not, he didn't need Adam.

When anyone asked him how it went, all they got was a glare. It'd take a while for his father to get the truth out of him.

Adam berated himself over it for two days. Pride or no, he had been offered an opportunity. He could make something of himself with an opportunity like that. And if the prince was right, if it was real, if he had some capacity for magic...

Every free moment he had, Adam tried to do magic. He tried to make plants grow, tried to call water from a rock, tried to change a spoon into gold. None of it worked. He felt as ordinary as ever, and his regrets didn't matter. By now they would have figured out the mistake. Adam had just saved them all a great deal of embarrassment and inconvenience.

So he wasn't expecting anything when he was called away from his work at the shipyard and into his supervisor's office. He certainly wasn't expecting to find his supervisor not in the office, but instead a strange man, older but still handsome, with a powerfully magnetic demeanor. Adam stopped in the doorway, regarding the stranger warily.

The resemblance between father and son was strong. Sometimes, it was like peering into a mirror of Niall's past, with only subtle changes to mark the fact that Ronan was his heir and not himself. But he was the future. Niall was not only the present but its ruler. He was not inexperienced with those who would defy him and he would not allow it to continue. But only a fool thought an order would work on everyone.

"Forgive me. A surprise is not always the best way to introduce oneself, but it does make an impression. My name is Niall. I've been expecting you," he said smoothly. He smiled, warm and welcoming, and waved his hand to invite Adam further inside. "I've spoken with your supervisor. He told me, 'Adam Parrish, now that's a hard worker. Clever too, more than his own good.' I've always liked that line, 'more than his own good.' Some of the best stories I've heard begin with that."

Adam's pulse fluttered in his throat, choking him for a moment. People didn't look at him like this. People didn't speak to him--or of him--like this. It was true, though, that he was too clever for his own good, and a hard worker, and his supervisor knew it.

The rare praise and the acknowledgement of Adam's skills and accomplishments drew Adam forward a step, mind tripping over the fact even as he made the connection--Niall, King Niall.

"I'm not a magician," Adam told him, because no matter how he might appreciate the acknowledgement, Adam wasn't about to let this continue under false pretenses.

Niall laughed. "No, you are not. No great story starts with a master. It is up to the boy to choose what sort of man he will be and what story they will tell of him. Worker, student, magician, there are many paths you can take. None of them will be easy. A magician's job isn't, I won't pretend it is." He laughed again. "Just ask my wife." He paused, assessing Adam.

"But you, you have the natural inclination for it. How many things have happened to you that you struggled to explain? So few people have your ability. It's your choice to waste them, but it would be a shame. Your story would end as your supervisor tells it. A hard worker and clever, but nothing more. So... what holds you back?"

Adam's heart thudded in his throat as the king talked. Student. Either Niall had done his research or his supervisor had mentioned it.

It was true that his luck had been... better lately. Small things inexplicably bending in Adam's favor. Rainstorms held off until the moment he stepped under shelter. Lost items always turned up in the first place Adam looked for them.

"I won't be someone else's pawn or plaything," Adam told the king, lifting his chin proudly despite the nerves he felt. Mouthing off to the prince was one thing. At least Ronan was his own age and inexperienced. Defying the king was another thing entirely. "Whatever I become, it will be on my own terms."

"Who gave you the idea that a magician is a pawn?" It was a rhetorical question. Either Adam was making assumptions founded on what little information he had or Ronan had said something with unfortunate implications.

He waved his hand as though brushing Adam's concerns aside. "You'll be no one's pawn," he lied easily. The truth was, he had nothing to fear from Ronan. But Niall was not as noble minded as his son. He found it both worrying and comforting.

"You don't even have to see Ronan," he lied again because he couldn't have his son sulking all day.

The king was much harder to dismiss or dissuade. Not simply because of his authority, but also for the persuasive way he spoke. Adam had lost track of his reasons to object.

“What is it exactly that you’re asking of me?” Adam chose to frame it that way in his mind, finding it easier to face the idea of the king asking something than of Adam being given so much unearned. It wasn’t charity if Adam had an important job, something real, something only he could do.

"That you learn how to use your talents. Become a magician. You may live in the castle or travel there. It's your choice." He paused until he judged enough time had passed. "What will it be?"

That answered one of Adam's biggest questions, about whether he could leave whenever he wished. He'd have to figure out how to fit this new thing into his life, and it would probably have to replace his studies. He'd receive magician training for free, and in return he would offer some amount of those services to the crown. The walk from his parents' home to the castle was long, but manageable. If he wasn't paying for his studies, he could cut back his hours at the shipyard. He could make it work.

Tentative, Adam nodded. If it turned out he had no aptitude for it, he'd be right back where he was now.

Niall returned to the castle victorious. He told his son the good news, which didn't exactly cheer the prince up. Niall had a way with people that Ronan did not. He'd never minded it until now, when he'd failed so horribly and had to have his father bail him out.

Feeling unwanted wasn't entirely foreign to Ronan. There was a reason he didn't have many friends, but it'd never really mattered before. Or it had, but he was able to dismiss it. This time was not so easy.

While he was generally a forgiving person, he found this rejection hard to brush aside. So he was not happy to step outside one day, hoping to enjoy a walk with only himself for company, and finding Adam there instead. Being shown around. Good for him.

He folded his arms and stood back, watching from a distance and waiting for him to go away.

Adam was awed by it all, and the things that they kept insisting were his. Rooms reserved for his use, fine clothing that he was expected to wear at any formal functions that he chose to attend, a study filled with books. All of it was presented as his, waiting for him, which made it harder to refuse. None of it was a gift, it was simply already his, and had simply been waiting for him to claim it. A whole life ready for him to take his place in it.

When he saw Ronan, his attention lingered, and he stopped. The steward showing him around was still talking, but Adam didn't hear any of it. So the prince was angry with him. Or at least sulking. Adam was not a peacemaker by nature, so he simply stayed where he was, watching the prince in return.

Ronan's jaw clenched when he saw Adam stare at him. He didn't even move away or continue whatever tour he was on. Well, let him stare. Ronan wasn't moving. If Adam wanted to start shit then that was his prerogative. Ronan wasn't about to back down. He came for a walk and he'd go on his fucking walk by himself.

As always.

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