#perfectxs

Another fight between his parents. Financial burdens, their name becoming less respectable among the others of the noble court. 

Ricken scowled alone in the hall outside of the den. The fights were becoming more frequent, and only became nastier as time went on. Though he was quite young, he understood what was happening. One parent was poor when it came to managing finances, and another had become quite the gossip, which only attracted the scowls of the others in court. 

A sigh escaped him as he headed down the hall and up the stairs to his personal escape. The heavy, oak doors were pushed open, and the boy stepped into the library. Though their family may have fallen in standing, it did not mean that they did not have a rich history. Few steps were taken as he approached a shelf, a hand automatically plucking a worn, leather backed tome from the dusty spot. 

Their family had been known for their contributions to the field of magic, though that was probably not evident in how his parents, even his grandparents, behaved. The art of magic was lost upon them—  unable to even produce something as simple as a small flame— and so he had no exposure to the fantastic field other than what he read in these books. Nut-brown eyes scanned the pages, and he softly murmured the arcane language as best as he could. 

"Oh— I don’t think I’ve read this spell before…" Ricken scanned over the faded text. “Vinculum facti inimicum capient. Sagitta Magica, Aer capturae—- whoa!”

The pages of the book violently flipped, and his clothes billowed as a gust of air seemingly rushed through him and scattered about through the library. Several books toppled from the shelves, only to land about the floor with thuds. Enthralled with what had happened, the boy quickly looked at the tome in his hand. 

Another line of text.

Another spell cast.

This time, the wind bent to his well. With one hand extended before him, the vibrating air focused upon the spot above his palm. "Okay, concentrate, Ricken…!!" In only a matter of seconds, the air had began to spin amongst itself, forming a miniature tornado. 

Ecstatic, he closed his fist, dismissing the tornado, gripped the tome, and sprinted downstairs. "Mother! Father!" he called out upon bursting into the den. With their attention focused on him, he mimicked the spell for them, eyes bright with wonder and joy. The parents were shocked to see that their son was able to produce something so… enchanting. Magical.

Glances were exchanged, as well as a few whispers, and his father left the room. Confused, Ricken lowered his hand, the tornado dissipating as he did so. "Where is father going?" he asked, voice small as he worried. "Did I do something wrong? I know I shouldn’t be going through father’s library, but I couldn’t—"

His mother held up a hand, and smiled gently at the boy. "Wait."

And so he did. It was only a few minutes that had passed when his father returned, arms behind his back. "Ricken, close your eyes."

The boy did as he was told. Footsteps indicated that his father approached him and then halted. The top of his head felt a tad heavier, and he felt cloth cover— no— envelop his head. 

"Alright, son, you can open your eyes." 

When he did, he was met with darkness. A deep, baritone laugh came from his father, who adjusted something. Ricken’s vision ‘returned’, and the boy looked at his father curiously. 

Ricken reached up and removed whatever had obstructed his vision before. Eyes widened in shock when he realized what he was holding. "Father..?"

His parents smiled as they watched the boy examine the item. "It belonged to my grandfather, Ricken. The last of our family to practice magic," his father explained. "You do know what that is, correct?"

Of course he did! How could he not? 

Another laugh, this time the airy tone of his mother. 

"How would you like to study magic? Formally, of course. We’ll have an instructor brought to the manor, if you would like—"

Tears stung at the boy’s eyes. Magic. They were allowing him to learn magic. “I— this— yes! Yes! I want to learn more!” Ricken exclaimed, as he gave his parents a wide grin. Yes, a few tears rolled down his cheeks, but he quickly wiped them with his sleeve. The hat was tugged back onto his mop of russet hair before he hugged both of his parents tightly.