The Ascendant Wizard

The elders wished to protest, but she didn't even give them the chance to voice an opinion; she had the guards push them out and leave the boy behind, the doors shutting behind them.

Morena stared down at the boy without saying anything for a while; she didn't know what to say, and she didn't know how to begin a conversation with someone she hadn't spoken to in so long.

It was awkward, but it was her responsibility to take the lead.

Pushing off the armrest, she rose from the seat and walked down the short stairs, her cloak dragging along the stone ground as she moved closer to the boy. Once she had reached him, she crouched until she was eye-level with him.

She did not sit nor did she hover, she simply lowered herself so she could look at him without making him feel small.

"You've grown quite a lot."

She could see his jaw flinch when she spoke, his body telling him to step back, but his teaching telling him not to.

"That tends to happen when time passes."

He replied in a sarcastic tone, causing her to smile slightly.

"I hear you've been learning? What have you been taught?"

At that question, he hesitated for a moment, his eyes glancing around the room as if trying to find an elder to tell him what to say. But he would find none here, so he had to answer on his own.

"They've taught me many things. How to use a sword, politics, maths, history, how to listen, all things they say a leader needs to be able to do."

She let out a small, humorless laugh.

"Those are not bad things to be learning, but have you spent your time doing anything fun? Like being a child."

He blinked, then his face twisted into confusion.

"What? How could I have time for something like that?"

She reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder. She tried to be as gentle as she could, especially when she saw the boy flinch a bit when she raised her hand.

He flinched, but he didn't pull away.

"You do have time."

She said in a slow voice, making sure he could hear her sentence clearly. She wanted him to know that he didn't need to spend all his time being someone they wanted him to be.

He didn't need to suffer through training; he could be a child, he could have fun. She wanted to convey that message because she felt responsible for his situation.

"You have more time than I did at your age, and I wish I had used it better. Do not waste it doing things you don't want to do."

His mouth opened and closed. He looked at the floor, at the pattern of the ground under his boots, as if the answer was written there and he were trying to read it.

"Why did you not come for me? Why didn't anyone come for me?"

When he finally spoke again, his voice was barely louder than a mouse, yet she could hear the emotion in it. His pain, the breaking of his tone as he tried to hold it.

The second Morena heard the boy, she couldn't help but clench her palm so tight that her fingernails dug into her flesh and caused blood to leak out.

She kept it hidden from him, but she had a hard time controlling her emotions.

Why was she being so emotional right now? It didn't make sense; she wasn't usually so emotional, but ever since this entire situation started, she couldn't seem to keep them under control properly.

Was it because of her memories? The memories of the past Morena who regretted being such a failure that her brother had to suffer in such a way?

What child should ever feel the need to ask such a question?

None.

She had failed the boy; they had all failed the boy. But she wouldn't do that anymore, never again. She wouldn't allow the Council to do as they pleased anymore.

'I'll kill them.'

"You left. They said you left because you were gone with bad friends and didn't care about me or the house."

The words were simple, blunt, and it hit harder than the insults of elders.

Morena's throat tightened. For a second, she had no practiced speech, no neat answer that she could tell the boy. All she had were excuses and failures, none of which he should know.

"I was not brave then."

She took a deep breath and began to speak. Her words shaking as they left her mouth, she wasn't even sure if she meant them, but they came from deep, deep inside her chest.

"I was not strong. I was selfish and angry. I thought that the world had failed me because of how I was, I thought that the world was cruel because I thought I deserved more."

He looked up as he heard her words, looking directly into her eyes.

"So why now?"

"Because I learned that the world doesn't owe me anything. The world is a cruel place, yes, but it is also a place where you can carve out a path for yourself as long as you try your absolute hardest. I learned that no matter what cards I was dealt, that giving up, wallowing in it, that is true failure."

She held onto his shoulder and looked directly into his eyes.

"Because you are my brother and because this house is ours. Because if I do not act, they will just keep doing whatever they want, whenever they want, and I refuse to let them decide what kind of life you get."

He stared at her, his eyes displaying the mixture of emotions and thoughts that was washing over him. He couldn't help but think back to the sister he knew, barely from memories, but she was so different from the one before him now.

Not only that, she was much different from the girl on the chair just a moment ago.

"They said you only want power."

"That's how they are, they say a lot of things, as long as it benefits them."

She let the corner of her mouth lift.

"They want people to believe anything that helps them sleep at night."

"If you get power, will you leave again?"

"No."

Her answer was flat and simple, and while she wasn't sure how long it would be true, she wasn't sure if she could keep it; she wanted him to know that she wouldn't leave.

At least not truly.

"Not like before. I want power for our house, to help it, to fix the things that need fixing. To make sure none of you go hungry or get pushed out because some man in a robe decides he's offended."

His eyebrows drew together.

"Even me?"

"Especially you."

She smiled, and the smallness of it surprised her; it came from somewhere older and softer.

"Especially you. I will allow you to be the child you're supposed to be."

There was silence for a long moment. He looked like someone deciding whether to trust the information he had just received, until finally he nodded.

"You said you'll teach me things?"

She nodded back.

"I will. I will teach you how some simple things, books, stories, and whatever else you want to learn. But mostly I'll teach you how to be a kid sometimes, of course, as long as you don't cry. I will steal back at least some of that for you."

He gave a short laugh and then, quicker than she expected, a flash of a child came through; a memory of running in the yard, mud on knees, a shout of something that she couldn't make out.

"I won't cry."

"Good."

She grinned.

"But if you do, bring a towel. I'm terrible at comforting people but excellent at knowing when they need to be scolded."

He let his shoulders fall as he finally seemed to relax the tension that had been built up in his body, his lips twisting into a passive smile of happiness.

"Do you trust me?"

He asked, surprising her with the straightforwardness.

"I have no reason not to trust you. You're my little brother, after all."

He chewed his lip.

"What if they use me to get to you? Like, use me to spy?"

"I expect them to try that. If you wish to tell them, you can. I trust you, and I have no reason to doubt you. If you come to me and tell me that they're bothering you, threatening you, trying to make you do something you don't want to..."

She paused, then winked one of her eyes slightly.

"I'll deal with them."

The boy did nothing but nod in reply; he didn't know what to say, and she didn't press him to say anything either. She knew that it would take time for him to adapt; he had been with the elders for so long, he had been through much.

"Come, let's get you cleaned up and some food, how about dinner with father and sister?"

The boy was surprised that she was already gathering the entire family for dinner, but he couldn't deny it. He wanted it much more than he would like to admit.