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thespacelizard · 10 months

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Graduation Ceremony

Tags: original drow characters, D/s dynamics, teacher-student relationship, master/apprentice, mutual pining, restraint, drunk!Ashenivir

Summary: Ashenivir has passed his exams, and now receives his final reward—graduation from the Arcanum, a Master himself, ready to take his brother’s place as wizard of House Zauvym. But an offer from Rizeth has him rethinking all his plans, and amidst much celebration, Ashenivir must make a choice; be the good son he has always striven to be, and serve his Matron? Or take a chance on his Master and an unknown future?

—

Keszriin’s Chataurvvin picnics were the stuff of legend, but the one she’d arranged for Ashenivir that day had been a quiet one. Just the five of them, secreted away in a perfect grove of young zurkhwood stalks, with narrow nightlight fungi providing soft, faintly pulsing illumination. They were deeper into the fungal forest than could entirely be called safe, but they were all wizards of no small ability, and besides, the Myconids never came up this far. The worst they had to worry about was a giant centipede or two taking an interest in their food.

Ashenivir was glad for the peace of it, and that Keszriin had taken to heart his dislike for the grand designs she’d had the last time he’d been poised to graduate. He was less glad at the extravagant gifts she’d presented him with. It was nothing to her, with House Eilist’tra’s coffers at her disposal, but receiving such things always made him uncomfortable.

Moonstone earrings, enchanted with Eilistraeen blessings of protection and good fortune, now decorated his ears. And a new cloak too, also enchanted; it would shift through whatever style was fashionable as he—or rather, as Keszriin—wished it. She liked playing dress-up with him, given half the chance. It was folded away in his bag now, over by the remains of the picnic. He and Keszriin lay side by side on the blanket, on their backs with their ankles hooked together.

“Feeling okay?” she asked.

“Fine,” Ashenivir replied. Keszriin knocked the toe of her boot against his.

“You sure about that? You got through the exams alright, but if you go off the deep end again about the ceremony—”

“I’m alright, Keszriin, I promise. If anything, I’m excited.”

There was a shriek from the edge of the grove, and the sound of magic ricocheting off an arcane shield. Dresvan and Pellanue had wandered over there a while ago, certain they’d seen a rare moth, and tipsily determined to catch it. Vuzree had gone after them, though whether for supervision or entertainment, Ashenivir wasn’t certain.

“Don’t burn the damn forest down!” Keszriin shouted, and was rewarded with a chorus of cursing. “Idiots.”

She reached over and linked her fingers into Ashenivir’s, lifting their hands into the fading duskglow. It was getting late, and even accomplished wizards knew to be careful in Chataurvvin at night.

“I’m going to miss you,” she said.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Ashenivir said. “You know where I live, you can visit whenever you like.”

“I know, but it’s not the same. And your Matron will be there, waggling her eyebrows at us.”

Ashenivir sighed. It wouldn’t be the same. Keszriin and the others might visit, but they’d still be apprentices doing the thing he loved the most, and he’d be stuck weaving decorations for the Zauvym estate and keeping his mother company.

And he wouldn’t be able to see Rizeth at all.