The Forbidden Section #22

“Don’t,” Xavier said. His jaw was a hard line, set grimly against the possibility of wobbling. “Don’t say anything.”

Akira had – well, he’d considered it, trying to say something, but honestly he didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t like ‘sorry’ was going to fix it. He wasn’t entirely if he was, and if he was, what specifically he was sorry for. There was no good way to go from being about to maybe kiss each other to cement a political alliance, to getting Xavier’s whole family in trouble with the Dark Lord. Never mind if Cecily deserved it or not for trying to turn him into a meat puppet. Never mind that Xavier no doubt thought he should grovel, because he was a Quinfell and so was his sister, so how dare Akira be more important.

So, Akira didn’t say anything.

Eiran stepped out into the gardens some forty-five minutes later.

They both froze, where they’d been picking up party leftovers for something to do with their hands.

Xavier recovered quicker, straightening, and inclining his head in a stiff bow. “My Lord.”

Eiran touched Xavier’s shoulder, just one, giving it a disarmingly gentle squeeze. “Go see your family.”

“My Lord.” Xavier was already speed-walking back towards the house before he’d finished the sentence, leaving Akira and Eiran alone.

Akira had spent forty-five minutes thinking about what he wanted to say, but he still wasn’t entirely sure where he wanted to start. If he wanted to start. He was starting to think the stomach ache was guilt and nearly dying the night before.

So, he did the mature thing and started walking, down among the stupid path of the roses, and after a beat Eiran followed him. It was almost like deja-vu, except Akira didn’t have the alcohol-buzzed conviction that his infuriating disguised crush might kiss him again on his graduation night. Really, if graduation was supposed to set the tone for the rest of his life, Akira wasn’t sure he wanted it.

Hadn’t he wanted to be important?

He stopped in front of the tree, and found himself reaching to trace the slashes in the bark. It steadied him more than picking up litter and empty beer bottles. Or maybe that was Eiran, quietly behind him. He didn’t know.

“Did you—”

“—I’m sorry,” Eiran said.

Akira blinked. He turned to face the Dark Lord, brow furrowing.

“You’re…sorry?”

Eiran looked away, to the tree bark, and Akira let his hand fall. He wondered how long it would have taken Eiran to notice he was possessed, a sleeper agent, even if Cecily’s spell had worked perfectly.

“What were you going to say?” Eiran asked.

“Did you kill her?”

“No,” Eiran said. “It was a first offense, and ultimately, she didn’t actually kill you. But she needed to know that a second offense will not be forgiven.”

“Right.” Another small silence stretched between them, broken only by the rustle of the wind in the trees. It really would have been a perfect place for a kiss, which was an absurd thought, given absolutely everything. Either way, Akira supposed it was over. They were heading back to Shadow Haven, no doubt. He dragged a hand through his hair. “Why, er, why are you sorry?”

Eiran glanced over at him, again, and Akira couldn’t read the look on his face.

“I should not have used my magic to sway you.” Eiran tucked his hands into his pockets. “Are you alright?”

It was the absolute last conversation Akira had expected Eiran to be having with him, certainly then. There were far bigger priorities in the world, weren’t there? Prophecies and chosen ones. Schemes for taking over the world. All the big things that Dark Lords concerned themselves with.

“It’s not like you mind controlled me,” he muttered. “I’m just – weak.”

“Is that what you think?”

Akira huffed. “I mean, compared to you. Though I suppose everyone is, compared to you.” It was on the tip of his tongue to ask what that was like; to always be the man who had the weight of lives cupped in his palms, and who made it so effortless, so like having that was only his right. To Eiran, it must have been so easy to get Akira’s will to bend like paper, no wonder he was always playing a game of ‘if I had less restraint.’ No wonder he didn’t want to risk dating Akira, for oh so many reasons. “Did you do it on purpose?”

“Yes.”

Akira shifted his feet, and pulled the warpkey out. “Going back in there is going to be super awkward. You need anything else from me before I head out?”

“Akira.”

Akira’s fingers hovered over the key, itching to activate it. He studied the shape of it beneath his fingers. A warpkey could theoretically be anything, but the one Eiran had given him to Shadow Haven looked like a small silver house key. Quite forgettable.

“Mm.”

“I don’t think you’re weak.”

“And I’m sure you had your reasons. It’s not like you didn’t make it very clear I wasn’t supposed to talk back to you in public. Speaking of, I’ll see you at home.”

“Akira-“

Akira hit the button.

He’d about made it into the front hall, filled with the scent of herbs, before the scent was wiped out by the crackle of Eiran’s magic as the Dark Lord appeared behind him. The magic washed over him, with no particular pointedness that time because it was just who Eiran was and Akira wasn’t going to ask him to pretend to be nothing in his home and -Akira sucked in a deep sharp breath, jolting to a stop. He closed his eyes.

“If you are angry with me – fine,” Eiran said, “but I need to know that you understand what I'm saying.”

“I’m not an idiot.”

“So what am I saying?”

Akira’s jaw worked. He shot a longing glance in the direction of the library, its haven of books and theories and everything that Akira understood and excelled in more than the politics of being the Dark Lord’s apprentice, before he spun to face said Dark Lord again.

“You’re saying I’m not weak.”

“Because?”

“You know, this isn’t the stimulating sort of academic discussion I thrive on.”

“Akira.”

“Anyone who had my level of magic-sensitivity would probably be just as susceptible to you, so it’s not my fault.” Akira shrugged, and summoned a smile that was probably more of a grimace. “And I’m telling you, that’s bullshit. All we can control is our own reactions. If I’m going to get pissy about the fact you have more tools to persuade me then most people, then I’m the one who should do something about it. Find a solution. Blaming you is like blaming someone for having a particularly pretty face, and using that to get their way. You can’t help it.”

“I can’t help it?” Eiran repeated, delicately.

Akira waved his hand. “Not in, like, a bad way. More in the, you are a spectacularly powerful Dark Lord kinda way. Anyway, as I said, I’m sure you had your reasons.”

“Yes.” Eiran took a step closer. “I did. I would even go so far as to say I had good ones.”

“So.”

“So” Eiran said, before Akira could turn away, “all those reasons still do not give me the right to take advantage of you. Having power does not give someone the right to use it. And I’m sorry. I should not have used my magic like that with you. I know better. You deserve better.”

Akira swallowed.

Having power didn’t give someone the right to use it except…well, it did. That was exactly what Dark Magic was about, wasn’t it? Nobody was asking for a magical creature’s consent before they used the avarium anima or the sanguis servus rituals. Dark magic relied on sacrifice, on taking, and the will of the caster being stronger than the poor sucker on the other end.

Eiran made it sound like Akira was his victim, or something! Some child with no agency or will or responsibility for his own decisions. Eiran hadn’t even used any actual mind control! Akira squared his shoulders, everything in him screaming with discomfort at the whole topic.

“Okay. Understood. Are we done?”

“No,” Eiran said, eyes narrowing, something new in them now as he took another step closer. “Because I can help it, Akira. And if anyone tries to take advantage of you and tell you it’s your fault – even it’s me, especially if it’s me – you are not safe with that person in that situation. Yes? If I had more restraint—”

“Oh my god.” A broken little laugh escaped Akira’s throat.” if you tell me you should have more restraint with me, I think I’m going to kill someone.”

Eiran blinked. The words seemed to knock him out of whatever earnest and oh so patronising speech he’d no doubt intended to deliver. His face went slack with surprise.

They stared at each other.

Akira’s cheeks burned, and he bit the inside of the left one, folding his arms across his chest. He turned towards the library, jittering with the urge to walk away. Maybe he could understand Eiran’s frequent desire to vanish into his study and shut the door.

“Akira—” Eiran’s voice was very gentle.

“—Don’t. Just don’t say anything.”

“I—”

“—You literally just gave me a speech about how you need to respect my mind and ability to refuse you things. Set reasonable boundaries. Or are you going to whip out your magic again to dazzle me into silence if I don’t let you talk?”

Eiran shut up.

Akira wasn’t sure if that felt like power, or a low blow, or if they were all variations of the same thing. He wasn’t sure if he’d wanted Eiran to respond by precisely whipping said magic out again, and closing the gap between them, backing Akira into the wall and…

He wanted to be back at that morning, with Eiran laying next to him all but cuddling him, when everything had felt so much easier without the whole weird conversation buzzing about in his head. Really, Eiran had just potentially jeopardised an important alliance. There were bigger problems. And yet.

He’d thought, maybe, when he graduated that the whole point was that they were going to be able to revisit that kiss. Wasn’t that what they’d said? He’d thought that maybe Eiran would stop worrying about whatever power imbalance there was between them, and trust Akira to handle himself. He’d thought, with their playful game of ‘if I had less restraint’ that they were slowly moving towards something, or that something had changed between them.

Apparently not!

Eiran’s magic was tucking itself away, inch by inch, squashing itself down back into his Eiran Thomas façade in a way he’d never done in Shadow Haven. Like he was trying to handle whatever he did next with the utmost care and tact and delicacy and Akira –

Akira really, really didn’t think he could take that.

“Duelling room,” he spat, whirling away from the blessed library, towards the training room. “Now.”

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A/N: Is this what I should been writing? Absolutely not. Do I have other stories on my list that I'm halfway through writing updates for? Absolutely yes. Did this happen instead? Well. Alas, I am a flawed creature. Have it as an extra this week. I hope you enjoyed it.