Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The day of the ceremony is always an odd one, all things considered. The hall is silent in the only way these crowded events are ever silent; a hushed whispering is still audible, but no distinctive sound finds its way above all others. All the while, Stephen kneels and awaits the words he has waited all his life to hear. The words he has worked towards for years under the tutelage of his Master.

‘’Apprentice Strange,’’ the Ancient One murmurs, though her voice is clear as day. It cuts through the whispers of the court. Stephen imagines she is looking down at him with her lips in that familiar twist; he knows she is proud of him. Everyone is – he is the youngest apprentice that has come this far in a long time.

‘’Master,’’ he responds, and keeps his eyes focused on the floor.

He hears her take a breath before she continues. ‘’You are here today, with your people gathered, because you have shown courage, cunning, wisdom and talent in your training. Your hard work and dedication to the Mystic Arts have not gone unnoticed. Today, we will make you one of our own, in blood and magic. Today, we will give you back to compensate for what you lost. Apprentice Strange, you lost your first colour last week. Will you tell your king what colour you have lost?’’

It is mere formality at this point. He just has to say the words and wait – and when he rises, he will be a Master.

He raises his face so he can watch. It takes a moment to take it all in; everything looks different, now that a colour has faded away from his vision. He had never noticed before how much green is the world before now – now, that he can only see a greyish hint of what once used to be green. He mourns the loss of his ability to see it for a mere second before his eyes focus on the king’s.

At seventy-four years old, Howard Stark isn’t as strong as he used to be. His cheeks are hollowed and his face wrinkled, but his dark eyes remain as sharp as ever. He sits on the throne before him, carefully awaiting Stephen’s words.

‘’I have lost green, my King,’’ he says. His voice is steady and calm – he has practiced so many spells for so many long hours that he has absolute control over his speech, and he makes sure it does not tremble.

King Howard rises and joins the left side of the Ancient One. Stephen feels prickles run over his skin, but he only looks down again as the king puts a hand on his head. His hand is sweaty and calloused as it rests on his hair. ‘’Apprentice Strange,’’ the King says roughly. ‘’You have mastered Time and have shown yourself capable to join the ranks of the Royal Sorcerers. Do you swear to use your abilities to protect the kingdom of Veston?’’

‘’I swear.’’

‘’Do you swear you will use your abilities to protect your king?’’

‘’I swear.’’

The hand leaves, but another kind of burden falls on Stephen’s shoulders. The Ancient One moves before him – he can see her shoes as she steps in front of him while the king moves away. They are a clear and deep red with a hint of blue and something grey – perhaps it is really grey, but it most likely is green. Stephen simply cannot tell for certain, anymore.

‘’Master Strange,’’ she says, and this time he does not have to imagine the smile in her voice, ‘’rise and meet the people whom you have sworn to defend.’’

With a flourish, Stephen gets up from where he was kneeling and rises to his full height. The court starts applauding – the right side, where the nobles are sitting, politely. The left side is full of Masters and apprentices, and their smiles are broad and sincere, their clapping enthusiastic and lively.

He does not have to fake his own smile as he looks at them. The king is back on his throne, regarding him thoughtfully. Stephen does not heed him; King Howard is his king, but the true leader of the sorcerers is their Sorcerer Supreme. And she stands before him, clasping his hand. Her eyes are the clearest blue, and Stephen realizes there must have been a hint of green in them before, now they stand out the starker.

‘’Thank you,’’ he tells her sincerely.

‘’You have done this all by yourself,’’ she whispers and releases him.

Finally, Stephen is a Master – his goal has been achieved. He cannot help but beam as he joins the other Masters. Most congratulate him on achieving Mastery, especially at his young age. Normally it takes at least a decade before someone loses their first colour, and Stephen had done it within six years of choosing a Aspect. No one had done that in at least a century, and he feels a certain pride at his accomplishment.

Finally, he is a Master, and he can join the Sanctum. Finally, he can protect Veston with his spells and be an equal to all those who have taught him since childhood. He can continue his research and save people – finally.

~*~

It is custom for a new Master to stay awake the night after – a wake, to mourn the loss of a colour and of life as an apprentice, and to focus on one’s new duties. Stephen has stayed awake through the night often enough not to mind it. He can use the time to read books and to look forward to what the next days will bring.

And yet, it is not to be.

The throne room is empty, only four hours after Stephen’s promotion ceremony. He wonders why the Sorcerer Supreme asked him to stay, but he does not question her. She is his teacher – well, she was. And yet, it feels odd.

He looks at the window with the stained glass. There are seven colours in there that fall on the floor, almost near the empty throne. The colours together represent the Mystic Arts. Stephen heard that the glass was installed by one of the first Stark queens – according to many bards, she had also been a sorcerer, a Master of Reality.

Each colour represents one of the six Aspects of magic that one could become a Master of. There is Reality first, the one specialty that was found first – the basis of knowing all things are real. It shines a blood red, and Stephen has trouble looking at it. The two colours following it are blue and purple, standing for the specialities Space and Power. On the complete right side, the window starts by a simple homely orange – the Soul. It flows over effortlessly into the yellow that represents Mind, and finally into green, for Time. Stephen only knows that the green is there, but he can’t see it anymore.

In the middle, the window is a clear white. All the colours combine easily, all meant to be. After all, the six Aspects protect the kingdom and make sure it flourishes. The king leads the people, but the Sanctum is there to keep them safe. The Sorcerer Supreme is arguably the most important person after the king; they are officially the first general of the army, though that title hasn’t been used in centuries.

‘’Stephen,’’ the Ancient One says as she enters. Stephen starts away from his thoughts and turns to look at her. King Howard follows her, all his movements less graceful than hers. There are many rumours going around about his declining health, but Stephen has never put much stock in what people say. Besides, Kamar-Taj was not close enough to court for Stephen to actually care all that much about his king as a person. But now he would presumably see a lot more of the aging leader of his country – after all, the Sanctum is located just outside the capital and Masters are seen at court often.

Not that Stephen has any interest in remaining at court. He will be content to read his books and learn more about the Mystic Arts, and use his mastery of Time to help out with any issues there might be around the country. That is all he has ever wanted, and he can leave it to others to impress the nobles.

‘’Master,’’ he says, quickly bowing to her. ‘’My king.’’

To him, he bows deeper. ‘’Master Strange,’’ the King says as he rises again. ‘’I have heard many tales about your skill. You are the youngest Master the Sanctum has received in decades, are you not?’’

Stephen glances at the Ancient One. ‘’Yes,’’ he eventually says. ‘’I am, my king.’’

‘’How old are you?’’

‘’Twenty-six, my king.’’

‘’He started training to become a Master of Time under my tutelage six years ago, King Howard,’’ the Ancient One adds, quietly putting her hands behind her back as she moves to Stephen’s side. ‘’Stephen is the finest student I have educated in all of my years. He has a bright future ahead of him.’’

King Howard circles him. His clothes all speak to his wealth – fine furs and rich tunics, and a sword that has not been used in decades at his side, its hilt glinting with gems. And nonetheless, Stephen does not doubt this man’s cunning. Their king is a learned man himself, though in a different way. But Stephen can respect knowledge in all ways it comes.

‘’You must wonder why you were asked to be here,’’ the king says eventually.

Stephen straightens his back. All his senses are screaming at him that he needs to be vigilant, now – the king is not his opponent, but he does have the power to ruin Stephen’s future, if he wants to. Not even the Sorcerer Supreme can deny the king.

‘’I am sure there is a perfectly good reason,’’ he says graciously.

The king smiles, all teeth. ‘’You will do well at court,’’ he nods and turns. ‘’Master Strange, there have been some unfortunate difficulties in the recent past. Several attempts at assassination, actually.’’

Stephen blinks, taken aback. ‘’On you, my king?’’ he asks, wondering why he is being told this.

‘’Not on me, no. Perhaps there would be, were I not surrounded with the best protection Veston has to offer. No one can get past my defences and the charms your teacher has bestowed upon me. Besides, I have the Knights of Virtue standing guard at my side all day, and the Knights of Vice in the shadows. No, I am not the one in danger here. My son Anthony is.’’

‘’Has he been injured?’’ Stephen asks carefully. He has never met the prince, but once again – there are always stories about the royal family. He has heard the only son of Howard Stark is charming and sociable, with a penchant for getting into trouble.

‘’Anthony? Oh, no. He’s resourceful and courageous – in his own way. But he also refuses to let his assigned Knight of Virtue stay with him, and I know they are close friends. He insists on his individuality and denies all attempts to protect him. So far, he has managed to escape unharmed, but I fear that it may not last.’’

Stephen lets out a breath and turns so he can look the king fully in the face. The Ancient One stands by his side, quiet and watching. ‘’Excuse me, my king, but I fail to see why I am here,’’ he says curtly.

King Howard’s lips tilt into something resembling a smile, but colder. Almost predatorily. ‘’Perhaps you still have some learning to do, before you get to court,’’ he says haughtily. ‘’But yes, Master Strange, I understand your confusion. Let me clear it up for you. Anthony needs someone to protect him. As much as I believe in my son’s bravery, he has a tendency to not think things fully through. I want you to become as close as a shadow to him.’’

That is not exactly what Stephen expected to happen, here. He frowns, quietly shaking his head to himself. ‘’Why me?’’ he asks. ‘’I am a Master now. My place is at the Sanctum. I have worked for years to –‘’

‘’You will get there, Stephen,’’ the Ancient One interferes, taking a step towards him. ‘’But for now, your presence has been requested by the king himself. It is only until the danger passes.’’

‘’Anthony refuses the help of friends and family,’’ King Howard tells him. ‘’But you are a sorcerer, and now you are a Master of Time. You can protect him whether he wants it or not. He is only two years younger than you – perhaps he will come to trust you, in time. Initially, I wanted to choose someone older, but the Sorcerer Supreme convinced me that you may do a better job.’’

It is not a job Stephen wants. He looks at the Ancient One, betrayed – and yet her gaze does not waver. King Howard passes him by, and Stephen bows again. ‘’Very well, my king,’’ he says evenly. Inside him, he feels his heart beating loudly. He has dreamt for years of the day he would be promoted to the rank of Master and join the Sanctum – and it seems that he has to wait a bit longer, simply because the brat of a prince cannot take care of himself.

King Howard casts him one last glance. ‘’If my son is harmed during your protection, it will be on your head,’’ he says sternly. ‘’But if you do your job well – that will be rewarded as well.’’

With that, the king leaves the room. It is silent for a few seconds as the door slams shut behind him, and Stephen is alone with the Ancient One. He turns to her accusingly. ‘’Why?’’ he demands. ‘’You know that I want to go to the Sanctum.’’

She regards him. ‘’You have lost your first colour,’’ she says.

Stephen huffs. ‘’I know,’’ he says. ‘’That is why I am here in the first place.’’

‘’Green will not be the only colour you will lose, Stephen.’’ Her smile is kind, but Stephen takes a step back as if he is struck. Becoming a Master in more than one Aspect – it generally isn’t done. Giving up one colour is enough for anyone, and already reason for respect. Stephen knows all there is to know about how to use spells of Time, and that is how he earned his Mastery. To work at knowing more specialties so deeply – that takes dedication and skill that not many sorcerers have.

‘’What are you implying?’’ he says, though he knows fully well what she means. Just like him, the Ancient One is a Master of Time. She must have looked into his future – an intricate spell, and not one that is always as accurate as believed. And yet, she does not seem to doubt her own words.

He does not know how him achieving mastery in the other specialities is relevant to this, however. And yet, she turns away. ‘’I will not be around forever,’’ she says. ‘’And neither will King Howard, as much as he likes to deny it. Stephen, you have been a perfect student – and yet, now you are a Master, there is more for you to learn than ever. My hope is that you will learn it here, at this court.’’

‘’There is nothing for me here,’’ Stephen says.

‘’And that, Master Strange, is where you are wrong.’’ She smiles kindly, even as she paces through the room. She stops at where the light falls, tinted in all colours by the stained glass.

‘’How?’’ he asks. He has asked her the same question so many times through the years that it is almost too familiar.

She turns towards him, but the coloured light falls on her robes now. ‘’There are seven colours, here,’’ she says. ‘’Six for the Mystic Arts, and white. Do you know why white is there, Stephen?’’

‘’For where the sorcerer starts,’’ Stephen says. He has known this story all his life – like all sorcerers, he has lived it. ‘’Children with the gift for magic can only see in white – they are essentially blind until they cast their first spell, and the first bit of colour disappears with their energy. This is how we know which children to take to Kamar-Taj.’’

‘’You are right, of course,’’ she mutters, and moves her robe. The colours dance over the orange cloth, and she watches them with obvious intrigue. ‘’I’ve always lamented that they did not add black.’’

‘’What?’’ Stephen asks, frowning.

‘’Never mind it, Stephen. That is nothing for you to worry about right now. You have a very important task – guard prince Anthony Stark. I did not do this to annoy you, I hope you trust. As I said, King Howard and I will not be King and Sorcerer Supreme forever. Anthony is his heir, and it is my belief he will make a wonderful king. And as for Sorcerer Supreme – I have laid my groundworks. If you continue the path you are on, Master Strange, you may very well be my own successor, and a trusting relationship between you and the future king will be beneficial to everyone.’’

Stephen blinks, turning to face her fully. ‘’You want me to become Sorcerer Supreme?’’

‘’Not yet,’’ she adds, her eyes twinkling. ‘’I have some time left in me, and there are still lessons you have to learn. We all make our own futures, but yours may have some surprises before the end. Prince Anthony is much like you, in some ways – too stubborn for his own good, and yet too smart to prove that it’s a bad thing for him to be so. Do not underestimate him. I have to return to the Sanctum now, but you should probably find your own chambers. They should be near the royal wing.’’

Stephen sighs. ‘’This is going to be troublesome, isn’t it?’’

~*~

There are always enough people at court – too many for Tony to know everyone. He knows most, however, and even if he doesn’t, he has made a point of recognizing faces. It is probably safe to say that Tony can name the majority of nobles – and the occasional sorcerer – that have made a home in the Palace and the surrounding buildings. Ireningas, their age-old capital, has plenty of space for all the nobles and their families.

Most of those nobles, however, do not even venture close to the royal’s wing. Only the Knights of Virtue and Vice and the guards and maids are allowed in, as well as the Council. And most of those people, Tony knows by name.

So it is odd to see a new face wandering the hallways. His expression equals that of someone who is lost, but his cloak is rich and new, and his tunics a dark blue. It provides a sharp contrast to his pale skin. The newcomer is tall and lanky, but his graceful movements leave no doubt to what he is, if the garments hadn’t informed Tony sufficiently before.

A sorcerer has wandered into the royal’s wing. A new Master, by the looks of it.

‘’Good evening,’’ he says, and grins when the sorcerer stiffens. Slowly, he turns to him, and Tony’s suspicions are confirmed. The sorcerer is still young, but his look is one of pride. His eyes are the clearest blue Tony has ever seen, piercing and cold, and his cheekbones are sharp enough to cut. He is a beauty, but a distant one – something to admire from afar, and not to be wandering lost at court.

‘’Good evening,’’ the sorcerer says quietly. His voice is low and rumbling, and Tony smiles in response to it.

‘’You seem like you’re lost,’’ he says, leaning against the wall. If his father could see him, he would have made a fuss about Tony not maintaining the perfect stature befitting of a prince – but Howard isn’t here, and Tony doesn’t care enough. ‘’You know this is the royal’s wing, right? If the wrong person caught you snooping, you’d be thrown in a cell for a night. And believe me, it’s not a place you want to be.’’

‘’Sounds like you have some experience in that regard,’’ the sorcerer remarks dryly, looking up and down him with raised eyebrows. ‘’I am, indeed, lost, but not in as far as you seem to think. I am supposed to find my chambers, but I don’t actually know where they are, and I can’t find anyone to lead me there.’’

Tony narrows his eyes at him. ‘’You’re a Master, aren’t you?’’

‘’I am,’’ the sorcerer answers. ‘’What does it matter to you?’’

Tony huffs in amusement as he crosses his arms. ‘’Why do you need chambers here if you’re a Master?’’ he asks. ‘’The Sanctum won’t take too much time to reach, especially with a horse. It’s only on the other end of Ireningas. It won’t take any time at all if you’re a Master of Space, as I’ve always understood it – don’t they have those fancy portals? Anyway, we have plenty of sorcerers who spend a lot of time at court, but I don’t think any of them have lodgings here.’’

‘’Yes, well, my case isn’t theirs. And if you are not going to be of any help, I had best be on my way.’’

With that, the sorcerer turns. His cloak – red, like all of the sorcerers’ cloaks are – swirls behind him. He narrows his eyes at the item of clothing, noticing the green stitches in the seams. That means he’s dealing with a Master of Time. He does not know many of the sorcerers, despite the number of them that deal with life at court. He only knows the Sorcerer Supreme vaguely, and only because of the importance of her work with the king. Howard doesn’t like her much, however, and the lack of affection is mutual, so Tony hasn’t often had the chance to speak to her personally.

‘’Wait!’’ he calls out. He isn’t done talking to the sorcerer yet – this is the first interesting person he has come across all week. And all the sorcerers at court are usually old and stuffy, as the young ones are always back at the Sanctum to study. Tony is naturally curious, and this is the youngest Master he has ever conversed with.

The sorcerer waits, regarding him with a blank face as Tony catches up to him, standing in front of him as if to stop him from moving. ‘’Yes?’’ the sorcerer says, raising a single eyebrow.

‘’I never offered you my help in the first place,’’ Tony points out, shifting where he stands. ‘’But I still want to know why a Master needs chambers inside the palace when you have a perfectly good Sanctum right there.’’

The sorcerer tilts his head. His eyes are sharp as they take in Tony’s every feature. ‘’You are prince Anthony, are you not?’’ he says, and there is some amusement in his voice. ‘’Do you make it your own special task to guard the hallways, my prince?’’

Tony steps back. ‘’How did you know?’’

The sorcerer smiles at that – his grin tugs at one side of his face, and it’s quite charming. ‘’You have the same eyes as the king, whom I had the pleasure to meet with today. Twice, even. And I doubt ordinary Knights would stop to make small-talk with a person they believe to be in the royal’s wing unauthorized. They would have kicked me out already.’’

There is some logic in that, but Tony pouts anyway. ‘’It’s rude to not answer your prince’s questions,’’ he reminds him, ‘’and besides, you never even told me your name.’’

‘’It’s Stephen Strange,’’ the sorcerer tells him. ‘’And as for your questions – I’m not sure I am allowed to tell you, my prince.’’

‘’Not allowed to –‘’ Tony sputters as Stephen Strange grins. ‘’But I’m the prince.’’’

He doesn’t often use his title like that. His father throws it around often enough when he doesn’t get his way – as if anyone is unaware of the fact that Howard Stark leads the kingdom – but Tony believes in earning respect. He can’t ask anyone to follow him if he’s not willing to earn that trust and confidence. However, he also hasn’t met anyone this infuriating before.

‘’I am fully aware, your highness,’’ Master Strange continues. ‘’But I am here on orders of the King himself, and I do believe that he ranks just slightly higher than you do.’’

Orders of the King. Tony narrows his eyes at the sorcerer – the man seems unperturbed, merely hiding his hands away in his cloak as he impassively stares back. Howard does not often bother with the sorcerers of the Sanctum; not unless he needs their services for something that he himself has been unable to do for a long while.

And Tony is only aware of one thing that Howard has been failing at, the past few months. ‘’Don’t tell me my father sent you to babysit me,’’ he groans, backing away. ‘’A sorcerer? He must be really mad at me.’’

‘’Merely concerned, my prince,’’ Strange says, and Tony is getting slightly exasperated at the expression of neutrality on the Master’s face. ‘’And if I have to say, perhaps that worry is justified. Here you are, after all, alone in an empty hallway, talking to a stranger with not the least bit of concern.’’

‘’Are you saying that you’re a danger?’’ Tony says in amusement.

‘’I could have been.’’

‘’I think I could take you,’’ he bites back, taking one step forward so he’s eye-to-eye with the sorcerer. Stephen Strange may be tall and agile, but Tony isn’t a stranger to fighting. Sorcerers may be something different, but he’ll be damned if he backs down.

Strange’s eyes narrow. ‘’I am sure you could, my prince,’’ he says, not rising to the bait. Still, Tony waits him out, not losing the eye contact. There is an electric tension, and Tony just wants to take another step forward – to see how far he can take this – when a maid appears around the corner.

Perhaps she is surprised to see him, but she just rolls her eyes and smiles wryly. She knows far better than most that Tony always turns up in places he is not supposed to be – even if this is the royal wing.

‘’Prince Anthony,’’ Friday says, curtsying only because there is someone else who could possibly tell her off if she didn’t show the prince some respect. Normally, she doesn’t bother. ‘’Master Strange. I was looking for you, Master Strange, to lead you to your new rooms.’’

‘’Thank you,’’ Strange says, inclining his head to her. Then he bows curtly to Tony. ‘’Prince Anthony. I am sure I will see you around far more often.’’

‘’You can try,’’ Tony mutters. Strange’s eyes glint, and he thinks that the corner of his mouth is tilting – but the sorcerer turns to go after Friday before he can know for certain.

Tony looks after them. This might be interesting.

~*~

Stephen stays awake all night, kneeling before his bed. His eyelids are heavy, but he does not give into sleep. He wants to hold a wake, whether he is in the Sanctum or not; if he cannot join the sorcerers, then he can do this, at least. It is holding on to the last bit of tradition, even if he feels bitter about not being able to join his people.

Besides, he does not know if he could sleep even if he tried. Thoughts are buzzing through his mind too quickly to keep up with. He knew beforehand that this day was going to be important, but he did not know that this was going to happen.

He is in the King’s service now – to serve Veston in another way than he believed he was going to, before. His task is to guard the young prince of the realm and ensure his survival. It must be a doable task.

Stephen thinks back to his encounter with the prince. He had not known it was him until he’d inspected him more thoroughly – his eyes had glowed almost golden when he came closer. The rumours suddenly make sense to him, now that he has seen Anthony Stark: a charming prince with a devious grin. There is something alluring about the heir to the throne – and something that tells Stephen that he is going to make his life a lot more complicated. Anthony does not seem to want anyone to guard him, and it might prove difficult for Stephen to do so.

He does not mean to fail at his task. It would be such a blow to his pride if he would mess up his first task as a Master – even if it’s not exactly an ordinary task that he was asked to perform. No, if Stephen has anything to say about it, he’ll become Anthony’s shadow.

He starts thinking about a plan until the sun rises.