Hi @quorou! I'm a little later in posting this than I would've liked to, but here's the rest of the gift exchange from Discord. It may have been a little longer than I expected. Hope you enjoy it :)
(Fanfic under the cut — 1,377 words, contains some light Vio/Red)
You'll Be Brilliant
Books. Old books, forgotten books, abandoned books. They had been Vio’s treasures for as long as he could remember. They had taught him everything he knew of magic, from how to sprout a seed to how to summon rainfalls during summer droughts. The little chest in the back of Town Hall Library had taught him everything his home could need.
Then, one winter night at the end of the year, the mayor had invited his family to share in their Midwinter Feast. There weren’t large gaps between the social layers of their town, but Vio’s mother had been honoured nonetheless, and Vio and his younger twin-brothers were told to dress up nicely and behave themselves. After all, the mayor had a lovely daughter, and maybe one of them could make a good impression. (Vio desperately hoped it wouldn’t be him.)
Wrapped in their nicest capes they trudged through the snow, carefully avoiding the muddy puddles where carts had passed along the road.
Vio still remembered his mother’s hair before him, carefully braided and pinned in a rose at the nape of her neck, with dried flowers woven into it. He had whispered a spell under his breath as they walked, and the flowers had brightened and grown into a midwinter crown of holly and rosehips.
At the mayor’s they had been kindly greeted and invited into the sitting room, but there were no lovely daughters there. Instead, a tall bearded man, narrow and ageing, warmed his hands on the fireplace. Fine embroideries, brushed furs, velvet, and polished leather caught the firelight, and when he turned towards them, piercing blue eyes landed on Vio’s mother’s midwinter crown.
“A fine spell,” he acknowledged. “This is your work?”
Vio’s mother curtsied. “My oldest son’s, sir.”
The piercing eyes shifted to Vio, who straightened and inclined his head.
“Come here, boy.”
Vio approached.
The man caught Vio’s chin and turned his face this way and that, examining it in the light. Unreadable, he let go and turned to Vio’s hands.
Vio had never been embarrassed by the callouses — indeed, had been proud to show that he had worked hard to take care of his mother and brothers — but under this man’s gaze he wished he could withdraw his hands and hide them.
Finally, the man said, “You have potential,” and turned to the mayor and Vio’s mother. “I will take him.”
Vio’s mother curtsied deeply, while the mayor bowed. “Thank you, sir. I am certain he will make you as proud as he has made us.”
The man didn’t look at Vio. “That remains to be seen.” He stepped away from the fireplace, and Vio hid his hands in his sleeves. “Red! We are departing.”
Footsteps sounded from the kitchen, and a dark-eyed golden-haired boy, likely a year or so younger than Vio, in a red waistcoat, dark trousers, and polished leather boots, emerged carrying a bundle of sweet pastries. “Ready!” The boy grinned.
The man shook his head, though his gaze softened. “Leave some for the good folk, Red.”
“But they said I could have it!”
The man raised an eyebrow.
“Fine.” Red handed the bundle to one of Vio’s brothers, keeping two pastries only. “They taste amazing. Enjoy them.”
Vio’s brother blinked.
Then Red was at the man’s side. “So?”
“If he has the aptitude for more refined spells is yet to be seen.” The man inclined his head towards the mayor and Vio’s mother, then headed for the door.
Red offered Vio a grin and one of the remaining pastries. “He’s always like that. I’m sure you’ll be brilliant. What’s your name?”
Red, Vio soon learned, had a talent. Where Vio spent long nights memorising words and phrases of power, and poring over ancient tomes in the Royal Library, Red’s magic was instinctual. In all the years Vio spent as an apprentice to the Royal Mage of Hyrule, he never saw Red read a single book on magic theory or spellwork.
Where Vio struggled, Red breezed through. And by all that was holy, Vio envied him. Not that Red made a point of his talents — not at all. Red was sweet, kind, and full of joy. He helped Vio when he could, spent his afternoons working with herbists and helping out in the infirmary, and experimented with new and convoluted spells that, to him, came as easy as breathing.
Which was why it came as a shock to Vio when Red decided to leave.
Vio stared at him across the dining table, his turkey slices and pudding forgotten.
The Royal Mage put his silverware down and folded his hands. “I cannot say I’m surprised.”
“Really?” Red laughed.
“You are a brilliant mage, but you never took to your training as much as I hoped.”
“I just find it a little tedious.”
“So I gather.” The Royal Mage’s eyes twinkled. “Well.” He picked his silverware back up. “Where will you go?”
“I want to see the world. I’ve saved up enough money to keep me comfortable for a year or so — or maybe start a business somewhere. I know a lot about herbs and healing, but I would like to know more.” Red smiled. “I would like to help people.”
When it was polite to do so, Vio excused himself. For ten years, Red had been a fixture in his life. It had seemed inevitable that Red would become the next Royal Mage, and that Vio would become his assistant. Indeed, if anyone left, it would have been Vio.
He had fantasised about it occasionally: about returning home to his mother and brothers; about settling back into small-town life; about meeting a clever merchant or traveller his own age, who wouldn’t be opposed to settling down.
Of course he had always known it was a fantasy. Going back would be admitting defeat — to himself, to his mother, to his brothers, and to his home. He would not disappoint them.
Still, that tantalising fantasy had made staying feel like a choice — like he could get up and leave anytime, but chose to stay. Chose to learn. Chose to practice. The castle floors felt cold and unfamiliar under his feet, as if he had never truly noticed them until now. The halls felt vast, dark, and frightening. Now, he had no choice.
He hurried through the cold and the dark, up the spiralling staircases to the East Spire, and murmured quiet words to escape the notice of guards and servants until he could close the heavy wooden door behind himself and collapse onto his bed.
Some time later a knock on the door disturbed his darkness. Softly the door opened and closed. Footsteps approached the bed. The magic that always seemed naturally attracted to Red — that gathered around him like a warm glow — illuminated his face and his hair, and flickered in his eyes.
“Hi.” Red sat next to him.
“Hi.” Vio’s voice cracked.
“Were you sleeping?”
“No.”
Red nodded. The magic around him brightened, creating a bubble of light around the bed. He looked down and fiddled with the edge of the covers. “Remember what I told you that first day when we picked you up?”
“That I’ll be brilliant.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m nothing compared to you.”
“That’s not true,” Red admonished. “You’ll be the next Royal Mage and you know it.”
“It’s not like I have a choice.”
“You always have a choice.”
“Not now. He won’t have time to train someone else.”
“So you don’t want to become the Royal Mage?”
Vio pinched his lips together in a thin line.
“Vio.” Red shuffled closer and leaned over him. Even when Red wasn’t smiling, the crinkles around his eyes and the dimples in his cheeks were never far from the surface.
Vio looked away.
Red blew a stream of warm tickling air directly into his ear.
“Hey!” Vio shoved him off and sat up, rubbing his ear.
Red was laughing.
“Rude.”
“Are you done being miserable?”
“I’m not miserable.”
“Sure.”
Vio sighed. “Fine. Yes. I do want to become the Royal Mage. I just don’t know if I’m good enough.”
“You’re everything a future Royal Mage would want to be, and more.” Red took his hands and smiled. “You’ll be brilliant.” Softly, he kissed Vio’s palms.
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