If Fraser could have found some way to worm out of it, some convenient excuse for his absence that wouldn't be questioned, he would have done so in a heartbeat. But he hadn't, never had been able to do so in fact, so here he was, seated at one end of the table, his parents at the other.
To say that the whole situation was uncomfortable was an understatement. The room was huge, a display of wealth and power, and more than impractical in his opinion. It was dominated by a dining table that sat in the middle, candle stands dotted along its length, of a size that could have seated twenty people easily. Had seated twenty plenty of times and probably still did, but right now, there were only the three of them, a long stretch of polished wood between them.
He’d always sat at this end though, and them at the other. Even when the table had been smaller and their home not so extravagant. Power had changed nothing in that regard, except for making the rift larger, their wishes more draconian.
His mother had a presence, always dominating any room that she was in, even if she wasn’t much taller than him. A thin figure, sharp face that was always heavy on makeup, raven black hair that always had a single braid on one side. She either wore femme business suits, or long dresses that fit poorly on her thin figure. At times she had looked positively skeletal, reminding him of some evil overlord. Not a nice thing for him to think, probably, but it was true, and she had done nothing to improve his disposition towards her. His father must have seen something in her though, as he had married her, and their relationship seemed healthy, at least on the surface level. As to what happened behind closed doors, he had no idea. Nor did he want to know.
His father, on the other hand, was often referred to by others as handsome. Still with a full head of hair, even at his age, a dark brown that was kept at a practical length, an attractive face to look at with a tidy and short beard. He was the same height as his wife, his body muscular, fit and strong. He worked out a lot, and had been the driving force behind Fraser training to become a spellsword. To become like him. He’d hated that; the only thing that had made it bearable was that he’d been doing it with Uriah. He hadn’t quite realised how much he’d disliked it till he’d lost his magic and had just stepped away, and he’d never go back to it.
“Fraser, why are you still dressed in those clothes?” his mother asked coldly.
“I didn't have time to get changed,” he replied with as neutral an expression as he could manage. That wasn’t really true. He probably could have if he had wanted; he'd had a little bit of time after they'd returned to their apartment and he'd made some food for Uriah, to make sure that Uriah actually ate properly, but he had decided not to. Another act of defiance, in retaliation for his mother having ended his employment yet again.
“You need to organise your time better,” his mother snapped. “We didn't raise you this way.”
Fraser just shrugged, and stared at the table. He didn't care much for how they'd raised him. Lessons on assumed superiority, and having others do everything for you. Things he wanted no part of. A lot of the actually useful stuff that he'd learnt had been self taught. Like how to cook, for example, and he was quite proud of how good he was at it. Not that he'd tell them that at all. His mother would be horrified.
“How has work at the archives been?”
Fraser looked back up at the voice of his father. That was a typical question from him now. He’d stopped pestering him about whatever training he was doing when he’d lost his magic, shifting to that topic instead. But that had become a moot point now as well, and he’d gone back to the mundane topics that always cropped up in awkward conversations.
“Good. Slow. We're making some progress on some of the new tomes.” They already knew all of that though, especially his mother. He was well aware of their vested interest in the archives, given that they were one of the main contributors to it and they were the reason that he was able to get in there at all. They'd arranged for him to help in there when he could while his loss of magic was being investigated and it had never changed since. The lack of time that he spent there was probably also the biggest giveaway to them that he'd been working out in the city. Tabs being kept on him that he didn’t appreciate.
“Melissa says that your understanding of the language has gotten much better,” his father stated.
Fraser flinched. He had hoped that no one had noticed that, given that he was trying to be as discreet about that as possible. Obviously he’d been careless at some point. His father wasn’t wrong. It had. When he’d started studying it, he’d found that the basics weren’t too hard to grasp, and he’d only been getting better since then. But he had been trying hard not to show that, feigning a much poorer grasp. They’d chain him to a desk if they realised exactly how well he could read it now, and as much as he liked reading and learning about the other side, that was the last thing he wanted. That would be the end of his limited freedom, and, of, well, everything. They wouldn’t care at that point that he’d lost his magic, more like revel in that fact. He wasn’t overreacting either; he knew how his parents and the other founders thought, and there was more than just the knowledge of the other side at stake here. It was knowledge of magic itself as well. They had found partial tomes on magic theory and use, which were securely locked away and even he couldn’t get access to them.
“Only a little. We’re still struggling to get through a-a-seven-six. There are a lot of obscure words in it.” That was the truth, even if he knew what they were. He just wasn’t going to tell anyone that. And it still frustrated him that they just used a designation for all of the tomes. It was a book on minerals, ores and liquids. The sort of reference book that he’d expect an alchemist to possess. It was just that there wasn’t a lot of correlation between what they had here and what it looked like the other side understood.
The click of a door opening signalled the arrival of the food, servants trailing in with covered plates in their hands. They placed them in front of him, his parents, and then part way down the table. Fraser stared at the extra serving, his unsaid question quickly answered as the door behind him opened and another servant came in, with a young lady walking behind.
“Lady Julia Morestone,” the servant stated, showing her to her seat, and then leaving the way that they’d come.
Fraser frowned. A daughter of one of the founding families, though he didn’t recognise her at all. She was kind of pretty though, curly brown hair, tied up in a ponytail that reached partway down her back, an attractive and not overly round face with a light dusting of makeup and striking red lipstick. She wore a tight formal dress that showed off her somewhat curvy figure, though it was probably quite impractical for the meal. She looked every bit like one of the upper echelon and acted like it too as she gave his parents a nod, and then him as well as she attempted to hide her shock at how he was dressed. Yes, lower class workers’ uniform. Not that he would have dressed any differently had he known that there was going to be anyone else here.
“Fraser,” Julia said, still looking at him. “It is nice to finally meet you.” It seemed like there was something else that she was going to say, but after glancing at his parents she just sat down instead.
“Thank you for coming, Julia,” his mother said to her once she was seated.
“The pleasure is all mine,” Julia replied with a polite smile. She looked comfortable enough talking to his parents, which he found kind of unsettling. It meant that she’d obviously had interacted with them before tonight, which was a given, but her presence here was confusing him.
“What is going on?” he asked, giving his parents a dark look.
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“Julia will be joining us for dinner, and it was time that you two met.”
That much was obvious. Dinner had been served for all four of them after all. But it was a little strange, that she was here by herself and not with her parents as well. Something that he would have expected, assuming that she was around his age, in her early twenties.
He sat up straighter, his frown deeper. “Why?” A simple question, but laden with a lot more intent.
“It’s time that you started taking your duties seriously,” his mother stated coldly. “Magic or not, it’s obvious that you’re just wasting your life away. I will not have my son working at jobs like that.”
“It was not a waste,” he stated back, though without any conviction. He had expected her to mention that, almost forced her, given that he was wearing the uniform still, but the strength of her disdain still shocked him.
“You’ve had enough time to mourn Bradley, and your antics with your little friend are frankly embarrassing.”
“Felicia. Her name was Felicia,” Fraser growled back. She deserved to be correctly named. Even in death.
That got a confused look from his mother, quickly gone as she just brushed it aside. “Since you seem to be impatient at the moment, we are sending you out with an exploration team. In what has been an unusual situation, we have become aware of another significant anomaly that we should be able to access at the next tainted moon. One that needs to be investigated, given its potential importance. All of the teams are currently out. So we have formed another.”
“Uriah is coming.”
“No.”
Fraser looked straight at his mother. “Uriah is coming. No matter what you think of him, we work well as a team. He is coming, or I am not going.”
“That is fine,” his father interrupted, just as his mother was about to speak again. “You are correct on that account, and perhaps it might nudge your magic back.”
“Your fiance will also be going with you,” his mother said, taking control of the conversation again, a cruel smile on her face.
“Sorry?” Fraser blinked, very confused.
“Your fiance will be accompanying you,” his mother repeated. “You are engaged to Miss Morestone now. All of the arrangements have been made, and you two will wed upon your return. She is a skilled mage, and you two will make a good match.”
“No. NO!” Anger flooded through him, his vision tinged red as he stood, visibly shaking, everything within him raging. “You cannot decide this for me. Not this.”
“You are a member of this family. You will do as you’re told.” Her voice was cold and commanding.
“NO!” He was shouting now. “I DO NOT ACCEPT THIS!” He could not, would not. If we was to marry, he would do it for love, but right now, he did not feel that way about anyone. He certainly wasn’t going to just to humour his family and help improve their position or bloodline. Hell no.
Turning, Fraser stormed off towards the door, trying to keep his anger in check, and failing. He was seething, and he could feel his magic seeping out of him, hot and viscous. Reaching the door, he opened it, and then stopped and turned, looking at his supposed fiance. “Julia, was it?” He didn’t wait for her response. “I’m sorry, but I’m not a good match for you, no matter what they think. They don’t know me at all, and I will not be a puppet for them in this. If they try and force this on me, then I will just elope and marry Uriah instead. And should anything happen to Uriah, then they will find themselves heir-less. And that is not an idle threat.” He pulled up his sleeves, revealing the blood flowing down his arms.
And then he was gone, the door slamming behind him.
----------------------------------------
Fraser stood in the shower, the hot water flowing over him, hiding his tears. Soothing, comforting. Relaxing him just a little. Except that he was still raging, his magic raging as well. It hadn’t reacted like that since he’d lost its use. He did not, would not, accept what they were proposing. He didn’t want this. He’d spoken the truth about all of that. He would not marry for their convenience, even just for show. He had standards, and that particular act was sacred to him. If he was to be involved with anyone, it would be for love. Except he couldn’t feel that emotion right now. He didn’t know if he ever had, or if he even would at any point. Pain, sadness, anger, happiness, he’d felt all of those. But not love. His parents had never loved him. They’d just seen him as a tool, as a weapon, and now a playing piece, to be who they wanted him to be, do what they wanted him to do. It was no wonder he was rebelling as much as he was at the moment. He just wanted to be left alone, to do his own thing, to be who he was.
‘Are you alright?’
“No,” he replied, before looking around confused. He couldn’t see her, but that had definitely been Felicia’s voice. “How are you here?”
‘I’m not, I don’t think? But I could suddenly sense you, a connection. Your magic’s raging, and here we are, figuratively.’
“They’ve engaged me to some girl, and the wedding’s a month or two away.”
‘WHAT!’ Even Felicia reacted in the same way, though he could sense that she calmed down pretty quickly. She had better control over her emotions than he did. ‘You don’t like her?’
“I don’t even know her. I’M NOT GONNA MARRY JUST CAUSE THEY WANT ME TO!” Fraser took some deep breaths, regretting it instantly as he inhaled some water and then spent the next few breaths coughing it out again. “I’m not doing that. Not for them. I’d rather marry Uriah.”
‘Well he is a better match for you, and your boyfriend already.’
“FELICIA!”
‘Sorry. Not the place for jokes.’ There hadn’t been any teasing in her voice that time though.
“I did threaten to marry him though, if they forced this on me. And if they do anything to him...” he left that one hanging in the air. He’d been serious about that one too, and there was still blood seeping out of the scars.
‘You have my full support there. He is rather cute.’
“Thanks. I guess,” he sighed in resignation at her opinion.
Fraser stood there for a while longer, just letting the water flow some more, steam flowing all around him, a white blanket that hid away everything. He felt a little bit better, his magic calming down. Felicia was good at that, her presence soothing, especially now. Sure, the guilt was there, definitely a part of it all, but at times it felt like more than that as well.
‘You’re going to become a prune, and prunes aren’t cute.’
Yeah, she was right. He turned off the water, waited a few moments to let some of the water drain off of him, and then opened the cubicle door and stepped out of the shower. To face the mirror that stood there. And all that it revealed.
They didn’t know him, but he didn’t either. All he could see in the mirror was a stranger staring back at him. A stranger that he saw all the time, but that he knew nothing about. Short cut brown hair, brown eyes, and a face that was a little bit round and with the typical five o’clock shadow that he very much detested. His body could still be termed athletic, though lacking in a lot of the muscle definition that he had had, and with too much hair. The arms though were a mass of scars, on both sides, from when he’d physically fought the creature, its claws having done something wicked, and all the ones that he’d gained after. Straight lines over the vertical ones, all over their lengths. Scars that were currently still seeping out blood. Scars that carried reminders.
It was who he saw, the appearance that he wore every day, but it wasn’t him.
But nor did he know who he was either.
“WHO ARE YOU?” Rage and anguish flared up again as he slammed his fist into the mirror, and then again and again, as if trying to beat an answer out of his reflection.
‘FRASER!’
“WHO ARE YOU? WHO ARE YOU?!” The mirror started to crack under his onslaught, blood flowing down his arm and seeping out of his fists.
A broken body, blood strewn everywhere, the eyes of a demon staring him down. A young man, standing there, magic flaring around him as his best friend watched on. A young child, running around in pure joy, playing witch and familiar.
“WHO ARE YOU!!” The mirror shattered under his fists, blood spurting out everywhere, a million reflections of the stranger looking back at him.
“Who are you?” Tears flowed down his face as he sank to the floor, arms wrapped around himself, blood dripping onto his legs.
‘Fraser...’ Felicia somehow felt a little closer, trying to offer her support, even if she couldn’t see what was going on.
“Fraser?” The door to the bathroom burst open, Uriah standing there, worry creasing his handsome face. “Fraser?” he uttered again as he carefully stepped in. “What’s going on?”
Fraser looked up at Uriah, the tears still flowing. They just wouldn’t stop. “I don’t know. I just don’t know,” he managed between sobs.
“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” Uriah said as he leaned down to give him a hug.
“No, it’s not. Not this time,” Fraser rebutted, though he gratefully accepted the hug, letting Uriah wrap his arms around him and hold him close.
“We’ll get through it all, somehow.”
“Uriah?” he finally said after a few moments had passed.
“Yes?” Uriah let him go, pulling back.
Fraser looked up at him, at the face of his best friend, who had been there with him, through everything, both good and bad. Always there. Reaching up, his arms still slick and red, he touched Uriah’s face, leant up, and kissed him on the lips.