#teaching magic

“Most spells end the moment they are born. Like creating a spark from flint for a moment of light, the initial burst of fire wanes with the lack of fuel. Some would let it die as it’s completed its purpose and then proceed to build another pyre, but perhaps there’s a simpler method.”

You understood the theory immediately. The ‘fuel’ Rosalyn was talking about was mana. The natural energy from the world mages have been taught to circulate within their bodies for magic. The logic was simple. Instead of dousing the flames and setting up anew every time, you’d just have to feed the flames to keep it alive.

Rosalyn smiled when she saw the look in your eyes, “I see you get it, why don’t we see if you can apply it.”

Which led to your current predicament. That the Archmage would offer to watch you practice personally was already an honor of the highest grade - you didn’t realise she was going to join in and mentor you directly.

“..yes, just like that.. remember this feeling..” her fingers tapped against your abdomen and you nearly lost your focus then and there. Sweat beaded against your neck as you swallowed nervously. You weren’t completely sure if the churning in your gut was due to the fact you’ve been continuously trying to cycle mana within your body for the past few minutes or the fact someone as alluring as the Tower Master was so close to your side, guiding your hands. “and keep it there even after the first spell. Ready?”

You dipped your head and focused on the target on the opposite end. You took a deep breath and released the first spell. It was a basic fire spell but you immediately felt the pull of mana being drained from you the moment the fireball formed and released. Immediately you tried to halt the drain of mana from leaving your body but it was like trying to catch a wriggling eel in waters. The collected mana was leaving fast and in a desperate attempt to keep it in, you forcibly began circulating mana back towards your center. A sharp pain tore through your body as the mana within you was torn two ways, the pain so acute it nearly made you lose focus. A sudden pressure against your stomach reorientated you as a burst of warmth collected in your core.

“Just like that. Prepare your second spell.” a voice urged you and without thinking much, you followed as instructed. The cast of the second spell was much easier than expected and this time you let the mana go, the building pressure within disappearing as your second fireball connected dead center of the target.

“I..” as the smoke cleared so did the realisation finally hit you. “I did it!” Your excitement was short-lived however as your knees buckled.

Rosalyn seemed to have expected this as she caught you before you could hit the floor, rubbing your back soothingly as you retched from the nausea that suddenly overtook you.

“That’s the drawback of continuously circulating mana without releasing it.” she said sympathetically, handing you a handkerchief when you’re done. “There’s a reason why we’re taught to cast the way we do. Our bodies aren’t meant to hold the world’s energy for an extended period of time. Actually without proper balancing and control..”

You looked up wearily, “..what would happen?”

Her smile was gentle, “Mana always seek to return to nature by any means. Many mages have been torn apart without proper experience.”

You felt the blood draining from your face upon realising you’d just brushed past death’s door without realising but startled when Rosalyn laughed.

“Why did you think I decided to tag along?” she grinned. “To let our best prospective mage die that easily would be a waste. The potential you showed today.. I’m excited to see where it’ll lead you.”

Your face warmed at the praise. As a mage, it was almost a dream come true to be acknowledged and guided by the famed Archmage known for her overwhelming talent for handling mana, who was also acknowledged by not only one but two dragons. “Thank you.”

Rosalyn seemed surprised by the genuine happiness and her eyes softened with fondness as she patted your head lightly. “You did great. With more practice the kickback from long term circulating mana gets easier to handle. For the time being, I can help with managing your mana flow until you get the hang of it. Are you ready to try again?”

Taking a breath, you straightened your back and faced the singed targets at the other end. “I’ll be under your care Master Archmage.”

Her smile was wide and filled with teeth. “That’s the spirit.”

She moved to stand behind you once again, the steady pressure of her mana pressed against your stomach, a guarding presence to protect you. Her breath tickled your neck.

“Get up!”

At least he can’t see your eyes roll behind the lids, but you know delaying the inevitable will only make him worse to be around, so you get onto your feet. How much longer today? It feels like you have been stuck in the barren room for ages…unfortunately the clock on the wall claims it’s only been a few hours.

“I expect more of you,” Loki sneers, “a simple Illusion yet you manage to mess it up? At this rate you will never even master Projection!”

You bite your tongue, not wanting to say anything he could take the wrong way. Sure, the others claim that he is good now…better safe than sorry, though.

Okay, calm down. A slow inhalation to fill your lungs before exhaling through your mouth in a carefully controlled pace which you follow with your arm as you stretch it in front of you with a bent wrist, fingers delicately pointing to the floor. Flower from earth. As if stirring slowly, you imagine holding a seed between you fingers to soak up the energy around it needed to grow (here, you flip you palm up to present the still invisible seed). Grow and glow. The words aren’t an incantation but simply a way to remember the movements, and again you feel the tingle of magic connect each outstretched finger and condense into the flower from your dreams. You do not dare to look at the result.

“Finally. Keep holding it,” Loki hisses.

You can hear your own breathing and the soft whistling from the air conditioning. There’s no hint of what the greasy-haired maniac is doing. Probably about to scare the shit out of me. You have half a mind to drop the magic and look for him…problem is it would make him insult you for the millionth time and you really aren’t sure how much more of it you can take. The only option is to keep calm and allow the Focus to survive anything Loki will throw at you.

Despite stalwart resolution, the Illusion falters and fades when the building shakes from an explosion and something heavy barrels into you. You try to get your bearings amidst scattered pillows, dust, and the green cape Loki insists on wearing. The Asgardian has thrown himself at you to shield you from the blast without a care for the shrapnel.

“Why did you do that?!” Your voice is shrill with anger and shock. “There’s a billion ways to test my Focus but tha-?!”

A cold hand clamps your mouth shut. Green eyes with a hint of red give you a onceover before scanning the surroundings. “This was not my doing, pet.”

You nod demurely. “Mm.” Wait, pet??

“Now be quiet.”

It’s not like you have much of a choice with his hand still covering almost half your face. That’s when you realize just how the two of your are positioned, chest to chest as he sort of straddles you, but because he still has worried about covering your legs…well, pelvis to pelvis is also a way to get to know someone.

You don’t have time to worry about it, though. A creaking, groaning noise of tree splintering makes both of you look up to see the ceiling caving in. Without thinking, you grab hold of Loki in the hopes of rolling both of you out of the way. With a crash a mass of debris and limbs lands where you just were, and the god is off of you with his daggers magically appearing together with his full armour.

He deflects the spear flung from the dust cloud, returning the greeting with a steely weapon of his own. You see what he does next only because he has shown you each part of the gesture that calls forth a host of clones of him and you perched on any surface of the place. Why not just…lock them up with magic? In the heat of the moment your brain forgets what class of magic Loki excels at until the laughter of the intruder makes your skin crawl.

“Trickery won’t help you, snake,” the voice cackles, “I see through your lights and smokescreens.”

You can make out the shape of a man most pro wrestlers would be envious of.

“Then make a move,” all the Loki’s in the room cajole.

The ground shudders by the weight as the enemy leaps into action, lunging to the left at the last moment. Steel meets steel, proving that he faultlessly has picked out the real Asgardian even though you were fooled (which in reality isn’t unheard of because the asshole loves to mock your lack of skills by showing off).

The man is partially naked, the broad chest exposed to display a blond patch of hair and a few scars from injuries that with any fairness should have killed him. His trousers are not unlike those harem pants that were all the rage (again) a few summers back but tied together around the calves before disappearing in a pair of heavy boots. Whoever this guy is, he has faith in his own abilities. Regardless, the attack is a glancing blow, allowing Loki to slip sideways in an attempt to skirt the attacker.

“Impressive.” Of course Loki still sounds mocking but he drops half of the Illusion, leaving only the copies of you milling around.

You get the hint. Leaping into action, you mimic the imagined crowd in the hopes of being harder to target.

Too bad it doesn’t work.

As if in slow motion, the attacker grabs the horn on Loki’s helmet, yanking it harshly backwards and causing the normally slippery guy to go flying into a wall that absolutely isn’t an Illusion. Meanwhile the intruder has continued the spin to his advantage – using the momentum he hurls the spear towards you. It’s only a perfectly aimed knife that saves you even if the larger weapon skewers your sweater and pins you to the floor. Heart frozen in your throat, but speed back to normal, you try to get free by yanking at the oversized “nail” with sweaty hands. No good.

The men are in each others’ faces again, both formidable fighters using the surroundings to their advantages. Still, it’s an unbalanced match because the slimmer of them keeps trying to draw the opponent away from you, forcing the enemy to have his back towards you. The enemy has no one to protect. His jabs and sweeps are methodical, each step countering the effort Loki makes to keep you out of the danger zone.

He can’t keep going like that! Bitter realization sears your stomach.

Wiggling and twisting, you crawl out of the sweater and onto the knees where instinct takes over and brandishes your hands in a flurry of weaving movements. Blue sparks shoot from the fingers, forming a rope as they speed towards the unidentified enemy and snake around his wrists. You feel the pull from him through the conjured restraint and have to use physical strength to hold him back.

Focus! Squeezing your eyes shut, you fight to follow all the instructions Loki has been drilling you with. There’s a grunt of surprise.

Must…use my…Focus! But the magic breaks, leaving you tumbling backwards once more.

“No!” Shooting back up, your breath stops at the sight of the two men apparently embracing each other. “No…no…”

Only a fool would think they actually are hugging. Did he…? If the attacker has managed to kill Loki, then you are done for too, and your heart screams with a million fears as the naked arms let go of the smaller man. Crap. But the man goes limp, sliding to his knee with the groan of the dying. Loki, now visible, pulls out a blade from between the ribs.

“A Conjuration…” Unreadable eyes study your face and hands before returning to the situation before him. “I’m impressed.”

As if. Turning to find an intact pillow, you feel the bitterness well up. Loki doesn’t give compliments. Loki doesn’t praise efforts, only perfection, and the attempt to bind the attacker had not lasted.

Yeah, well…I’m proud. “Even though that’s dripping with sarcasm, and definitely isn’t genuine, I’m gonna take it.”

“[Y/N]…I push you because I know what your potential is, and I have faith in you.” Somehow, he’s come to stand right in front of you, hands clasping your shoulders gently. “I mean it. You are amazing and it’s because of your magic that I could strike him down.” Oh. “Thank you, my dear.”

First pet and now dear? And he…?