Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I have to protect him them. 

“Albrek!” a guttural snarl aimed in his direction. 

I have to protect him them. 

“K̷̖͕̙̂̓̀̑̚i̷̡̧̭̘͑̔́̐̋͂̓̽͌͝ĺ̶͇̹́̀̕ļ̶̨̣͚̭̮̩̣̪̮̦̠̞̚ ̴̳̒̈́͝B̸̮̓̽̐̿͗̌̊̇̌ȑ̶̘̓̈́͋ṵ̸̹̬̻̳̮̰̲̂̍̀͗̄̒̉̌̀̐̈́͐t̴̛̺̦̄̅̈́͒̈́̎̐͜ę̷͉̻̃̑̌̀̓̾̾̏́̚͠͝ ̵̨̛͍̗̣͖̂͆̌̉͑̀̑̽͋͋͗͠F̵̢͓͈͖̟̂̾̉͐̅̂̋̍̂͊͘ơ̸̲̺̩̤͆́̄͋̒̎̒́̇̓͝͝r̷̨̩̦̬̙͍̰̜̯̣͒͌̓̏́̑̃̈́̋̚͝ç̶͉͖͓͎͇͂͊́̾̈́͛̓͒̀̀ẻ̵̡̩͙̫͕͚͓̭̬̻̫̂̔̂́͊̒͑̚.” A command that he cannot resist, that he cannot even try to.

I have to protect him them. 

A flash of memory. Bright, hopeful eyes, burning bright and yellow as the sun.

“You’re not under his control anymore, though, Master! You have a new family. You’re one of us, now! Part of Brute Force!” He chuckled, discreetly wiping away a tear at the thought of finally finding a home, a family. They could never replace those he’d lost, but they were wonderful and bizarre and beautiful in a different way. 

I have to protect him them. 

A flash of memory. Late nights spent strategizing and stargazing and talking about everything they would do when they were victorious. Purple swirling in the sky above and in the magical auras of their practice.

“Always go for the highest priority target first,” a cunning voice murmurs, syllables soft and precisely enunciated, “the one that poses the biggest threat to you and your goals. Aim high, do whatever you must to achieve victory. The individual is not above the collective.”

“As you command.” A deferential bow, to hide the tears. To hide the victorious smile.

I have to protect him them. 

He turns and he runs to the ravine’s edge, lightning-quick and fueled on desperation. Please, he thinks as hard as he can to his son protege, please trust me. You saved me before, let me save you now. Catch me when I fall.

And he takes a leap of faith.

Reaching into his component pouch, he pulls out the chalk-like dried bat guano and the pungent white sulfur, carefully separated yet so visually similar, the contents of the bag easily distinguishable over years of practice and use. Shouting the incantation he is so strangely familiar with knows so well, he manifests the image of flame and heat and calculates the thermodynamics of love, and brings into existence the hottest fireball he ever remembers casting. 

I have to protect him them. 

And as he falls, holding on as long as he can and running full tilt into the encroaching darkness, he thinks,

I will protect them.

Chapter Text

He falls.

He hears only ringing, tastes only copper, smells only smoke. 

And he smiles, content in the knowledge that he succeeded. He has protected them from a great danger, to save them from an even greater enemy. 

Distantly, as though through a barrier solid as smoke and thick as parchment, he feels the thud as his body hits the stone. But here, safe in the throes of unconsciousness, he feels no pain. There are only gentle swirls of smoke, making patterns from currents that whisper words only they can comprehend, and silence.

A flash of memory.

“What do you hope to see us accomplish? What will be the fruits of our labor?” The same low, cunning voice asks - the voice of a viper, he realizes now. One fattened on its gluttony and lazy with the thrill of success. 

But in the memory, he smiles at his friend, ignorant of what great hardships are to come. 

“I hope to build a world in which we can live freely and without fear,” he whispered, tracing the constellations with his eyes, ancient and wise even through the filmy purple cloud that shadows their depths.

“A world in which everyone is free to do as they wish, bring about whatever good they see in possibility - a world in which those who want nothing more than to teach, and to grow, and those who want nothing but to learn, are free to do so. A world where we can love whomever we choose, unbound by societal constraints, a world where everyone is equal.”

A sigh from beside him.

“A beautiful dream, my boy. A beautiful world. One we will bring into existence.” Iarno can hear the wistful smile in his poison-lined words. 

“N̵̨͛Ơ̵̧͖!̸̢̨̤̊ͅ” A voice penetrates through the swirling smoke, reverberating painfully through his head. 

“Yes, my friend. One we will work towards, together.” They clasp arms, grinning excitedly, before turning in for the night.

“-̵̩́̈́̔d̷̞̂i̵̟̙͂d̸̥̏ ̶̦̫̭̌a̴̬͚̺͂̽̽ ̴̹͈͚̑g̶̱̬̝͒̈o̸̻̻̭̅ö̴̹̦́ͅd̶̬͍̘̍̓ ̴̰͛̈́ͅj̴̮̫͕̃ȯ̴̭b̴͓̍̄̾ ̷͉̂͝-̶̦̓̎ ̴̺́r̸̨̝̼͠e̵̫̊̎s̵̻̓̍͝t̶̟͖̺͗̃͠ ̶̠͋-̶̟̟̑” The same voice, quieter now.

A flash of memory.

“Hail, stranger!” Calls a middle-aged gnome, dressed modestly in tunic and slacks of a mottled green and brown that blend easily with the forest’s foliage. “What brings you to this neck of the woods?”

“I am a traveler,” he replies, “searching for youths with the potential to learn magic. Do you know of any who may require tutelage?”

The man thinks for a moment before replying, seemingly much more trusting than before. “I just might! Come along now, the sun’s starting to set, ya see? Wouldn’t want you to get lost in the dark!”

He offers a bow to the kind stranger. “Master Iarno Albrek, at your service.” Iarno gestures, summoning several dancing balls of light into the air to light their path. 

“Oh. Guess light isn’t a problem, then. Well, it’s just about dinner time anyway. Come along, Master! There’s plenty to eat in Meadowhaven!” He turns with a jaunty step, calling behind him, “Name’s Toziver Bilfiz, pleasure to meet’cha!”

“C̴̮̓y̸̠̯̏g̶̜̽n̴̖̜̿i̴̲̋!̷̥̂ ̵͙̾͋Ÿ̸̲́o̵̹̞̐̓u̷̮̽ ̴̼̫́-̵̦̈́͜ ̶̣̬͂̽I̸̪͠'̶̡͝l̴͎̇l̵̻̎̍ ̵̪͂-̴̫͝ ̷̝͒̄f̶̨̖̃l̶͈͝a̶̡̡̎́n̵̦͌̊k̴̝͘!̶̻͆̆” The voice is getting louder, closer. The smoke, thinner, more agitated. He feels a pulse of pain as the pressure in his skull increases and he becomes intimately aware of the blistering heat of his skin.

A flash of memory.

Meadowhaven is unlike any other place he’d been before. He loves it, he quickly decides. Even after all these years, he still finds new experiences, new cultures and new peoples to learn from and about. 

Toziver leads him through halls under the earth lined with art of all different styles, some overlapping in places. It has a chaotic, yet homely atmosphere. The communal dining hall they arrive at, though? Definitely chaotic.

Rows of tables with long benches divide the space, every inch of wall covered in paint. Looking above, he can see natural stalactites - amazing! They’ve used glowworms as light! He wonders for a moment what these paintings would look like in the sun, if their colors would be strange and otherworldly without the faint green tinge to the current dim lighting. 

“M̸̮̐a̶͓̾s̶̝̓t̷̲͆e̴̎͜ȓ̴͉!̴̡̈́-̵͈͋ ̸͖̄W̵̗͋ã̴̪k̷̠̏ȩ̴̊-̷̭͝ ̷̟̀”

If there’s an organized method of seating, he’s struggling to see it. Groups of gnomes mix and mingle and laugh and smile and talk uproariously in a cacophony of sound and enjoyment. He is led to one of the back benches, his pack disappears to somewhere without him consciously realizing it, and before he knows it he finds himself seated on the smooth wooden bench, spoon in hand and stew in his mouth, with absolutely no idea as to when or how he got there.

“Hi! Hi, who’re you? Where’d you come from? What kinds of cool things have you seen? You’re wearing a robe, are you a magic man? But you look kind of dirty! Tell me all about the magic you can do!” 

He blinks. The words had tumbled end over end from the mouth of a very young gnomish boy, excitedly leaning over the table across from him and accidentally dropping the tassels of his tunic in the stew. His father(? yes, he can see a resemblance now) sighs fondly before sitting down beside the boy. 

“This is Master Iarno Albrek. He comes from far to the south, and is very hungry right now. But I’m sure he would love to tell you all about his magic, after he eats and cleans up.” Iarno notes the emphasis on “you” and sneaks a look at Toziver, silently asking whether this is the one he mentioned introducing earlier and receiving a subtle nod in confirmation. 

“Er, um, yes. That’s me, uh, just Albrek is fine though - titles can be a bit long and formal!” He winces at the stutter that caught him unawares, and hopes he didn’t completely botch his first impression with the young potential mage. 

Toziver rolls his eyes and scuffs the back of the boy’s head lightly, gently reprimanding, “Son, don’t you need to introduce yourself first? I swear, etiquette goes in one ear and straight out the other with this one…” he mutters the last part under his breath. Iarno shoots him a brief smile in sympathy.

“Oh! Sorry, Dad,” the boy smiles sheepishly. Damn, Iarno thinks surprisedly, that smile could be weaponized for sure. The boy grins up at Iarno brightly.

“My name’s Brocc Beren Bilgim Briskstich Bilfiz, glad to meet you!”

“M̸a̷s̸t̷e̴r̶,̶ ̵I̵ ̷n̴e̷e̷d̸ ̷y̶o̶u̷!̷”

He opens his eyes, and they shine as brightly as those he meets staring down at him worriedly. The fading lines of magic in the air makes their determined gazes glow as violently yellow as the sun, and they hold a myriad of hopes and promises and dreams. But there is only one thing on his mind, for the first time in a very long time.

I will protect them.