Chapter Text
“They say he’ll eat the heart right out of your chest. If you’re young and beautiful enough, that is.”
The sky was very blue that day, James thought. Too blue for this type of conversation. These sorts of tales should be saved for nights where the clouds thundered overhead, and shadows crept around every corner. Instead, James was admiring the way the pink and yellow flag of The Empire stood out against that deliriously blue sky and trying to sound as casual as he could while talking about evil wizards eating the hearts of pretty young things.
He, Dundy, and the young Charles Des Voeux were standing at parade rest on the back of a small, sleek airskip piloted by Gore, and while the civilians enjoying the parade below them couldn’t hear what they were saying, it wouldn’t do for him to affect the hunched back and claw-like hands he normally employed when telling stories of the Wizard Crozier to young airshipmen.
Particularly as a newly minted Commander.
His hand twitched, but he stopped himself from polishing his Command medal for the nth time that day. He was pretty sure Dundy was ready to smack him one, promotion or no.
“While the heart’s still beating?” Des Voeux asked, breathless, and James thought maybe he should permanently alter the way this story was told after all. Clearly there was something about nonchalance that sat differently on a Commander’s shoulders.
“I wasn’t close enough to see.”
“You?!” Des Voeux’s eyes widened, and that right there was why James kept telling this story. He’d spent years nudging it, molding it, and twisting it into a tale of perfection, and he always knew it would hook them in.
“I had only just signed up for the service,” James explained, holding his hand up for a wave at the roaring crowd below them, “and reported to the city for assignment. For a country boy like myself, the city was a place of wonders. I could barely turn a corner without getting lost and overwhelmed by the sights and smells… the music that pours out of every window. You understand, don’t you, Mr. Des Voeux?”
The young man nodded fervently before casting an eye to the city around them, briefly lost in his own memories.
“A young lad can get real lost out here, Commander Fitzjames.”
Truth be told, James had been making excursions into the city with his aunt and uncle from a very young age, toddling behind them to this lecture or that concert with Will’s tiny, stick hand clasped tightly in his own. But he knew Des Voeux came from a farming town by the mountains and would appreciate this familiar foothold in the narrative.
“Yes, and I was quite lost. The sun was sinking quickly, and the buildings seemed to grow and tilt around me in the oncoming darkness. To this day, I’m still not sure I hadn’t wandered into some enchantment, for as I turned the corner, there he was.”
“No!” Des Voeux gasped, and out of the corner of his eye James could see Dundy trying not to laugh.
Dundy had heard almost every rendition of this tale.
“Yes,” James nodded solemnly, “with a young woman clasped in his arms. Quick as I could I gave a yell and charged, swinging my fists wildly – of course I had no training in hand-to-hand combat yet, but I was nothing if not determined and bull-headed, the way the young can be.”
“And still are…” Dundy added with a slight smirk James chose to ignore.
“I didn’t recognize who he was until he dropped the lady in shock and flew up to the rooftops, no doubt to find his moving castle, that ghastly thing they call The Terror. I rushed to the woman and helped her inside. He had torn her dress slightly, and on her breastbone, I could see it.”
“What?” Des Voeux’s eyes were saucers, and James took a moment to revel in the attention. When people looked at James like that, he almost believed himself.
“The mark of the Wizard Crozier; the head of a phoenix, for he can never die as long as he feasts on the hearts of the young. All his victims bear it, or so I’ve heard. I only have witnessed it the once myself.”
‘Only once’ - a bit of modesty to finish up the story never hurt. Setting James right on the edge of believable, while also reminding the listener that James had both seen the Wizard Crozier and survived ‘only once’ which was more than most people could boast.
There was only time for a few loud exclamations from Des Voeux before Gore docked the skip at the airship, their part in the parade finally completed. James was sure he had sweated right through his shirt in the hot morning sun, and it would be nice to have an afternoon’s rest and refreshment before the officers’ ball that evening.
“Good show today,” James said to the young Des Voeux, “every inch an airshipman. I look forward to having you onboard. Dismissed, Mr. Des Voeux.”
“Sir!” Des Voeux grinned before trundling off to his bunk.
“The charging was new,” Dundy commented as they strode down the hall out of Des Voeux’s earshot. He’d never give away James’s game. “But I can just picture you windmilling those over-sized paws of yours. You chose to leave out the girl’s family thanking you with a gold pocket watch this time because…?”
“Everyone always wants to see it, but I’ve lost four of them now and can’t quite justify the cost,” James confessed sheepishly.
“Ought to get one of those new wrist-watches. Can’t lose what’s holding your hand.”
“Well, that is hardly the point. But you are right, I think I’d look very well with one.”
The two bumped shoulders good naturedly, and James once again sent his thanks to The Powers That Be for a friend like Dundy, who had been standing at attention next to James several days after the alley-incident in their freshly pressed ensign uniforms, listening to then-Captain Franklin’s announcement that the wizard Crozier had betrayed The Empire by deserting and vanishing into the night.
The pieces of young James’s mysterious flying man had suddenly clicked into place, and he had turned to his new friend with a choked-back gasp only to find Dundy’s own shocked eyes looking back at him, remembering the story his new bunkmate had told him several nights before.
They hadn’t gone to Captain Franklin with the information.
James had been so turned around in the city without his uncle for the first time he hadn’t even known what area of town he was in, let alone what alley it was. All he had seen was a man embracing another man and a young woman and exchanging hurried words before suddenly alighting into the twilight sky. James had been too full of wonder and jealousy to note much more at the time. He’d finally be in an airship, but he’d never fly, not like that…
Anyway, he’d had precious little information for the Captain, and a lost, jealous, barely grown boy hardly made for a good story.
He’d had time to figure out how to tell a better one since.
James amused Dundy over the years, adding this rumor or that about the Wizard Crozier. Pushing himself far away from the distraught young man who’d written four letters home in as many days to an intrepid hero in the making. All he’d had to do to make it believable was become that hero in actuality, and that was hardly difficult for an airshipman traveling from one conflict to another. Just close your eyes and jump.
“Jas,” Dundy said quietly, and James pulled himself back to the present.
Instead of the hazy, jovial atmosphere that usually followed a parade day, with soldiers leaning half-dressed out of doorways and bawdy singing echoing through the airship, James was surprised to see the hallway full of focused airshipmen all marching in one direction. He recognized Fairholme among their ranks and quickly grabbed him by the elbow.
“What’s this about? No rest for the wicked?”
“Sir Franklin has called an all-hands. Apparently it’s urgent.” Fairholme peered at James. “Wouldn’t you know?”
“We’ve only just returned from the parade,” James explained, treading cautiously around the questioning tone in Fairholme’s voice. “I’m sure he’d rather we made ourselves presentable first.”
Fairholme only shrugged and kept walking.
Something pricked inside his chest, and James knew he should say something about respect due to a superior officer, that he should call Fairholme back and demand a smart ‘sir’ at the end of his sentences, but they were lieutenants together only a few weeks ago. James’s promotion had been surprisingly quick to everyone but James.
“He’ll get used to it when he sees you in command,” Dundy said with his uncanny ability to see the thoughts on James’s face, “but I never will.”
James smiled at Dundy’s quick jab to his ribs, and then began following the rush of other airshipmen.
The galley was filled with chattering soldiers, flushed with the heat of the day and in hastily rebuttoned dress uniforms. A slight hush fell over the crowd as James entered, and he realized with a start he would not be taking his place on the floor with the others, but on the rafter overlooking the galley with Sir Franklin as his second-in-command. Head held high, he walked across the room as if this was absolutely how he meant to enter it and climbed the ladder up to the rafter, where he was joined by Sir Franklin only moments later.
“Sir Franklin, I was not aware we were expecting an all-hands so soon after the parade,” James said quietly. “I could have instructed the men better had I known—”
“We weren’t, Fitzjames. At ease, please. New information has come to light, that I will share with you as I will with everyone else.” Franklin’s tone was kind, but his eyes were narrowed, and James knew better than to let a scrap of displeasure show on his face.
“Of course, sir.”
With that, Sir Franklin turned to face the crowd, and almost instantly there was silence.
“I am sorry to do this during a time of celebration. I know you have all had a long day representing the finest airship of The Empire,” Sir Franklin smiled as a cheer rose up from the men, “but we have learned that the castle of the Wizard Crozier has been seen by the far fields, out past the edges of the city.”
A gasp and a murmur followed, with some low bleating of the word terror, and James’s spine stiffened when he felt more than a couple pairs of eyes shift to him. He very intentionally did not seek out Dundy.
“I would not ask you to forego your last few evenings of celebration and taste of home before deployment, but it is important that every one of you be on your guard. Carry your sidearm with you at all times, and don’t go off alone. The Wizard Crozier is an enemy of The Empire and cannot be trusted.”
Franklin’s eyes cut abruptly to James, and he blinked twice before he remembered his duty to step forward to close out the meeting.
“Dismissed, all of you. And enjoy yourselves,” James smiled, but after a quick cough from Sir Franklin added, “within reason, of course.”
The tension broken slightly with that flimsy joke and the soldiers began to shuffle out of the galley, thrumming once again with the adrenaline of a parade day. James saw Dundy lift his eyes to him, and he gave him a small nod before turning to face Sir Franklin.
“Fitzjames, I would like to speak with you further in the command room.”
James followed Sir Franklin down the ramp at the back of the rafters to the command room, where Sir Franklin took a seat at the head of the table and gestured for James to sit as well. It had always impressed James how calmly Sir Franklin projected his authority. He never needed to stand above you to make himself tall.
“What I tell you now must not leave this room,” Sir Franklin said, and James nodded fervently.
“Of course, sir. You have my secrecy.”
Sir Franklin let out a sigh and rubbed his mouth briefly as if wondering where to begin, then plunged forward as he always did.
“Twice has the Wizard Crozier tried to steal the heart of my niece, Sophia. Twice we have fended him off. I am worried that he is here to try a third time, and that I cannot abide.”
James’s eyebrows shot up.
Sophia Cracroft was a well-known beauty, so it made sense, he supposed, that a wizard would desire her heart. Only he wasn’t sure why a wizard as powerful as Crozier would resort to trying to eat the same heavily guarded heart three times. Surely there was enough beauty in the world for the man to come by without antagonizing one of the most powerful families in the land. But then again, John Franklin was not a man of undue worry. Indeed, sometimes James privately thought the man could do with a bit more reticence before falling into another one of The King’s wars. But it wasn’t his place to make such assumptions.
And you can’t be a war hero without a war.
“How awful,” James murmured, “your niece is lucky to have your protection, Sir Franklin.”
“He was a good man once, you know?” Sir Franklin continued, as if he hadn’t heard James. “But these… these wizards. Sorcerers. Magicians. They’re not like us, are they?”
“How do you mean, sir?” James’s heart thumped loudly beneath his sweaty shirt. He just wanted to get out of here and have a bath, he just wanted—
“Always seeking out more and more power, until... It’s all selfishness, in the end. An uncanny darkness of the soul. You and I are men of the air. We speak plainly and fire straight. We know what it is to fight for something larger than ourselves – for The Empire. That’s why you are where you are today, isn’t it?”
Sir Franklin’s eyes were intent upon James, and James found himself sitting straighter to meet that gaze. Did he know? How could he know? Barrow wouldn’t have told anyone. But he knew. James was sure of that.
“Well…”
“And besides, I hear you’ve had dealings with the Wizard Crozier yourself. You must have formed your own opinion.”
“That’s… that’s correct, sir.” This was not good. James had never told his story to Sir Franklin, but of course it had reached him all the same. He’d just never expected that to matter. And what version of it had Franklin heard? What dealings, specifically, did Sir Franklin think James had had with what was previously one of The Empire’s most powerful wizards? “However, it was many years ago – I was barely more than a boy.” James let out a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m afraid I’m hardly an expert on him, or any other wizard. I would turn to you as the authority on this ship.”
“You are a good airshipman, Fitzjames.” Franklin’s gaze was still assessing, but it had softened. James had passed some sort of test. “You do your duty well. Those medals on your uniform were earned with distinction and bravery. I know that, and I trust you to look after Sophia.”
“Soph—Miss Cracroft?” James blinked.
“Yes. Keep your gun handy and your eye on her at the ball tonight. That’s all I’m asking.”
“Tonight?”
“Why, yes, of course,” Sir Franklin gave him a confused look, “Crozier loved nothing more than stomping about and causing a fuss when he was with The Empire, I can’t imagine he’s changed much for the better. The officers’ ball would be the perfect place to attack, and with Sophia looking her most beautiful.”
“Right.” James swallowed. “It would be my pleasure.”
“You know your duty, and you know the Wizard Crozier. You’ll do what needs to be done.”
This was one instance where James, apparently, did not know his duty. But that was only because he had never met Sophia Cracroft before.
“I know my uncle sent you, Commander Fitzjames. There’s no need for such pretense with me.”
James dropped the hand he had just pressed to his lips. Miss Cracroft looked unimpressed. Which was a shame, as James had gone to certain lengths with his appearance that evening, though more for his own sake rather than hers.
Just because he was technically on duty didn’t mean he couldn’t also be admired.
“Miss Cracroft, I wouldn’t dare. But if you would allow me the next dance…”
“You may have three this evening,” Miss Cracroft said, “how you choose to space them out is your own affair. And you may see me home,” her eyes softened, just a bit, “I know how he worries about me. But I will choose when we leave.”
Well, if the Wizard Crozier had tried to eat that heart twice, James could only assume he enjoyed the thrill of the chase.
James spent the first dance pointedly ignoring the expectant look Miss Cracroft was giving him, and not asking anything about the Wizard Crozier. They talked instead about the city; the way the emerald and gold roof of the basilica shone in the morning sunlight, and the shadows the airships cast over the boats in the harbor. James kept his hand on her shoulder featherlight.
The second dance passed with the equally safe topic of airskips and their relative merits. James had restored an old one the last time he was on leave at his aunt and uncle’s, before they… well. It had been a nice time together. A good memory. He was able to make Miss Cracroft laugh by reenacting the way the gasket had blown right in his face and caused him to ditch the skip in a nearby lake. When he emerged from the lake and tore his flight goggles off, he looked like nothing so much as a drowned raccoon.
“Sometimes old things just need to be replaced,” James’s uncle had intoned when James finally made it back to Rosehill several hours later, wet and shivering.
Dundy and Gore found him just before he was about to ask for the third dance.
“That’s quite a lot of time you’re spending with Sir Franklin’s niece,” Graham observed with a sly smile. “Has James Fitzjames revised his opinions on wives and sweethearts?”
“No,” James laughed, “but he has decided he likes a dance partner who doesn’t tramp on his toes with every other step, a qualification Miss Cracroft fulfills admirably.”
“And one you only fulfill because I taught you,” Dundy pointed out with a smack to James’s arm.
“Excuse you, I’ve always been the picture of grace.”
The three of them were laughing about a time Gore accidentally bloodied Dundy’s nose in training when Miss Cracroft approached. James turned to her with a smile, ready to ask for his final dance of the evening and be done with the whole affair, then stopped short. Gone were the sword and shield of poise and condescension from earlier, leaving just a vulnerable woman behind.
“Commander Fitzjames, I wonder if you would be so kind as to escort me home now? I’m afraid I’ve become rather… tired.”
There would be no third dance that evening, apparently, but James wouldn’t hold it against her.
He maintained a respectable distance between them, aware of the eyes that would follow a Commander and a young woman leaving a ball, but kept his own eyes on her as Sir Franklin asked even if perhaps he was too late in doing so. She didn’t look upset anymore, however, only pensive.
“He’s not going to come, you know,” Miss Cracroft said, once they had some relative privacy on the street, the name remaining unspoken between them. The lamps had been lit several hours ago, and if they had been closer to the harbor they wouldn’t be able to walk in a straight line for the crowds, but here in the palace-adjacent neighborhoods there was nobody but the two of them to cast any shadows.
“…Do you want him to?” James asked eventually, uncertain how else to respond, or what had happened during the ball to make her so sure of that.
“I don’t know.” It was barely more than a whisper, but James heard it all the same. She kept her eyes straight ahead as she asked, “Do you know what it’s like to lose your heart, Commander?”
She was not talking about eating a still-beating red thing.
“Only to the sky,” James replied.
“Neither do I.”
They walked the rest of the way in silence. James had nothing to add, and Miss Cracroft was apparently done with him for the night. He found himself smoothing out his uniform over and over again, as if it would let him smooth out the conversation they’d just had. He wondered what Sophia Cracroft’s heart might taste like. He wondered how his own would.
It was with relief that James neatly deposited the now silent young woman at the guarded Franklin residence with a second, and final, kiss to the back of her hand. He held her eyes for a moment too long to be polite, unsure which of them should speak first.
“Your duty is done,” Miss Cracroft told him gently, “I will make sure my uncle knows.”
“Thank you, Miss Cracroft. It may be past the bounds of duty to let you know what a fine dancer you are, but I feel I should tell you all the same,” James appreciated the little laugh that startled out of the young lady, ‘let them not part as enemies’ and etc. “And… I also want you to know you still have the advantage over me.”
“Oh?” Miss Cracroft tilted her head.
“You are right, I have never lost my heart, but that’s because no one has ever wanted it. In that I fear we differ tremendously.”
James stepped back with a small bow and let the guard close the door in his face.
Well. That was done.
If he hurried, he could still meet Dundy and Graham down at the harbor for some post-officers’ ball drinks, as had been their tradition for the past several years. Maybe he could kindly and informally set the record straight with Fairholme, too, if he was there. Maybe he could find something more engaging to do than a polite dance with a cryptic young woman.
For the first few minutes of his walk to the harbor there was only the quick tap of James’s shoes against the cobblestones and the faraway din of the city at play, but then a shuffling, awkward gait started up behind him. He tried to ignore it at first – it was, after all, a night of celebration, no matter how regal the neighborhood appeared at first glance. Anyone could be wandering home at this hour. But then it continued for another block, then two and then three – a parody of the last dance James hadn’t received.
“Excuse me,” he said, turning around abruptly to face his stalker. But it was only an old man, wizened and leaning heavily on a cane. His blue eyes were wide in surprise, bushy white eyebrows lifting practically to his hairline in affront.
“Yes?” the man growled out, in an accent that told James that whatever neighborhood he lived in now, the old man had originated out near The Wastes, but in a tone of voice that dared James to try and mention it.
“I, uh, excuse me,” James said again, wrong-footed. “Do you… that is… can I help escort you somewhere, sir?” James gave his best, and most winsome smile, but all it received in reply was the lowering of a single eyebrow. “I’ve been told there’s no arm sturdier to lean on than that of an airshipman.”
Old men were like young ladies. A tiny bit of flirting never hurt.
The second eyebrow descended, and the old man’s gaze morphed from insulted into something piercing and perceptive. His eyes raked over James’s everything, from the glossy bounce in his hair to the glossy medals on his chest, and seemed to find him wanting. Stubbornly, James held out his arm to assist anyway. Who was this old man, to look at him so? What had he ever done?
“And what business does a pretty airshipman like yourself have escorting Sophia Cracroft home so late at night?”
It took every ounce of self-control James had not to flinch at that. “Perhaps the honorable business of her wellbeing. Sir.”
“Hmph.” A snort. “Under Franklin’s orders then. No doubt today’s favorite, I’m sure.”
James was not able to muster that self-control a second time.
“Excuse me,” James said, trying not to think about how many times he had said that in the past minute, “but you seem to be handling yourself just fine on your own. I will leave you to it then. Good evening.” It was only after he had spun smartly on his heel that the full meaning and knowledge of the old man’s words hit him. “Hang on a second—”
“Quiet.” The man reached out and grabbed James’s arm with a surprisingly strong grip for such shriveled hands.
“I will not—”
“I said, quiet!” The old man held James fast when he tried to rip his arm away, and it was only then that he truly understood there was something not right with this old man. His eyes were blazing in the streetlight as they darted to and fro, and James had his mouth open to demand to be unhanded when he heard it.
Something. Many things. Scurrying over the cobblestones.
He had one moment to look at the old man in confusion before he felt them on his feet and around his ankles. Rats? Shadows. Shadows? Rats. His mind could not make up the difference between the two and decide. Both and neither in the same, they twined around the James and the old man with large, angry squeaks that seemed too big for their bodies. But then, were they separate bodies, or a single, large mass slowly engulfing the two of them?
James grabbed his gun without even thinking about it, and when an angry, dark shape swelled down the street before them, he fired.
“Don’t!”
The shape kept coming. James fired again.
“Stop!”
The shape kept coming. James fired again.
And still the shape kept coming. He wasn’t stupid enough to waste a fourth bullet.
“What exactly do you think a gun is going to do against that thing?” the old man growled, yanking down James’s arm while James stared at the rapidly approaching entity and tried to figure out what was happening.
Only, the person next to him wasn’t an old man anymore. The years seemed to be sloughing off him, his spine decompressing and regaining its younger height. His wrinkles were smoothing, lessening—though not disappearing entirely. A fine, strawberry-blond color was flooding into his white hair, now burning bronze in the light of the streetlamps. He was broad, James realized, feeling paradoxically foolish for offering his arm before. Very broad, and somewhat familiar.
Like a face from a wanted poster. Or a dark alley in the past.
“Well,” James said, tension mounting in his voice as he employed a futile stomping motion against the almost-rats, “I was really hoping a gun would kill it. It’s worked for me before, you see.”
“You’ve never fought real magic before,” the no-longer-old man spat. And then his cane wasn’t a cane, it was a long wooden staff, simple but elegant, with the head of a phoenix carved at the top. He looked again at James and sighed, what seemed like genuine regret glinting in those sharp blue eyes.
“Sorry, it looks like you’re a part of this now.”
James couldn’t even think to protest as he was pulled bodily against that firm chest.
The Wizard Crozier raised his staff high and brought it down hard on the stones beneath them with an audible crack, sending a shockwave of light across the writhing street, and James’s vision went white.