Chapter Text
Tears well in Tyrion's eyes as he grasps his head, feeling as if it was splitting open. A barrage of violent thoughts enter his mind, and he can’t stop himself from falling to the ground and going into the fetal position.
“You see, guys? We don’t even need to start wailing on him before he starts crying!” A large boy calls out to the gang of older kids that surround Tyrion.
Another boy crouches in front of him, his terrible sneer blocking Tyrion’s view. “What’s wrong? Do you want to call out for mommy again? Well not this time!”
A sharp kick to his side only disorients Tyrion further, and the mix of anger and joy from the people around him befuddles his senses.
“That’s enough!” A girl's voice echoes from somewhere so far away to Tyrion. “You will hurt him no longer!”
“Oh yeah? And what’s one little girl gonna do about it?” One of the punks speaks out. The whole group turns their attention away from Tyrion and towards her.
“Little girl?” She gives a hearty laugh before striking a dramatic pose. “You face Mosourika Tudor, Dark Mage of Aurinax, protector of the innocent, and the one who spells your doom!”
There’s a long silence following her declaration, one suddenly blown away by the roaring laughter of the gang.
“Oh, that is precious. Go on then, throw some magic at us!” He beckons her forward.
“Very well then. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Despite her bold proclamation, Tyrion senses great fear coming from her.
Mosourika points her finger at the boy taunting her and chants, “Bol-to!” A spark of fire jets out of her finger and falls several feet short of her target.
Tyrion felt the small traces of fear the group had give way to relief, the bellowing laughter filling the air once more. Without a word, they all moved to surround the girl, her fear even sharper in Tyrion’s mind.
Mosourika tries to back up slowly, but it’s clear that she has no plan on what to do next. The gang moves forward with confidence, closing every direction in which she could run.
The leader charges forward and swings a fist at her, but before it’s caught in mid-air by someone.
“Rika, get behind me!” A gruff voice booms into the alley, and its owner, a large bearded man, pushes the delinquent away. Tyrion can sense his anger, and the happiness of the gang rapidly fading into fear.
With a series of angry grunts and bewildered sputtering, the boy pushes himself up off the ground and rushes back at the man. His mad dash is interrupted by a large fist to his gut. He stumbles backwards, clutching his stomach in agony.
“Who…who the hell are you!?” One of the other goons shrieks.
“Leave, now! Or do you want me to leave the rest of you like him?”
The thugs don’t take much convincing, all rushing deeper into the alleyway with their tails between their legs. Two of them turn back around to pick the leader up off the ground and they run as best they can to catch up.
“Bunch of cowards after all…” The man grumbles under his breath.
No way I could have taken all of them. Thank the Scaled Lord…
With the amount of people suddenly much lower, Tyrion can finally hear the thoughts of those around him.
“We have to help him, Mr. Morrison!” Mosourika steps out from behind the man and strides over to Tyrion. Her terrified face betrays the fear and sadness she felt to Tyrion without even needing to sense it. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“You’re alright lad, aren’t you?” Mr. Morrison holds out a hand, prompting Tyrion to get back up.
“I’m fine.” Tyrion, wincing throughout the whole motion, let himself get lifted back up onto his feet. As he looks into Mr. Morrison's eyes, he feels him realize something.
Wait…Frey’s kid? What the hell are you doing here?
“Well, I have to get you kids out of here before you get yourselves into any more trouble. Just stick close to me, got it?”
The two kids nod in affirmation, and together, they left the dark alleyway and stepped out into the sunlight.
____________________________________________________________________________
Even though Tyrion hadn’t told him where he lived, Noah seems to know exactly where to go. No one pays them any mind as they walk in silence throughout the streets of Aurinax. Noble merchants from House Sanctus broker unfair deals, dingy stalls sell fish and other sea products, and Tyrion can’t help but overhear some loud noble brag about winning a chess tournament.
Eventually, the trio end up at the Cuthbert household by the lake. “Sir, how did you know to come here?”
“Listen, kid. It may not seem like it, but any commoner in Aurinax who’s ever needed help in the past couple years knows Frey Cuthbert's name. She’s done more for us than the entire noble population combined.” Noah puts his hand on his neck, and suddenly seems a bit awkward. “It just so happens that she brags about you to anyone who’ll listen.”
Tyrion blushes a little at the image of his mom talking about him to a bunch of strangers. Was she really that proud of him? And did she really do something that important? She always makes it sound like she helps a few people out with some odd jobs, not almost everyone in the town.
Noah raps his knuckle against the door, and steps back as it opens, revealing a lady with long flowing hair, the same dirty blond as Tyrion’s.
“Oh, Tyrion, angel, what happened to you?” Tyrion thinks he didn’t look particularly injured, but his mom still fusses over him intently. “I’m so glad you’re back!”
“Good to see you, Frey.” Noah bows his head slightly.
“Noah! Where did you find this little rascal?” Frey ruffles Tyrion's hair a bit.
“We found him getting in a fight with some gang in an alleyway. If we hadn’t shown up, he’d look a lot worse.”
She sighs “I suppose you’re at that age where boys think they have to be strong and tough, aren’t you?” Frey pursed her lips slightly.
“Mom…” Tyrion grumbled.
“And I don’t believe we’ve met, have we, young miss?” Frey turns her attention to the Mosourika.
She fiddles with her hands, but manages to meet Frey’s gaze. “I’m Mosourika Tudor, Ms. Cuthbert.”
“She was in that same alleyway, trying to get those thugs to back off.”
“So you helped too, Ms. Tudor?” Frey grins at the young mage. “You’re a real hero, doing something like that for my son.”
“O-of course I am. An archmage such as I would be a fraud if I didn’t protect those in need!” Despite her dramatics, Tyrion felt that her fear hadn’t yet dissipated.
Noah rolls his eyes. “Don’t try and play this off, Rika, what the hell were you thinking? If you weren’t so loud with your little drama thing, I…might not have been able to find you.” Despite his words, his worry is much more palpable than his anger in Tyrion’s mind. “You’re not an actual mage yet.”
“Mr. Morrison, I…” Rika’s prideful facade deflates.
“Now, Noah, what’s done is done. Can you really blame her for trying to help someone, especially when it put her in danger?” Frey defends Mosourika, wanting to clear out all of the negative thoughts rather than drag this ordeal out.
Noah grunts in half-hearted acceptance, but Frey seems to accept that for now.
“Now, Ms. Tudor, if I might ask, do you have anywhere to be tonight?” Frey kneels down slightly.
“No, not really.” Mosourika responds, slightly confused.
“How would you like to spend the night with us, then? I’d feel awful not doing something to reward your heroics, and I know Tyrion could use a friend.”
“Mom!” Tyrion agitatedly looks at his mother.
“Oh, please, if someone put themselves on the line to save me, I know I’d practically fall in love.” Frey’s mischievous tone made it obvious she was having too much fun teasing him.
Tyrion blushes even harder and stares fixated at the now very interesting ground.
Undeterred, Mosourika struck a pose. “I shall gladly bestow my company upon you, and accept the gratitude of those I protect.” Yet her feelings of joy seem a bit too bright to be simple thanks.
Mr. Morrison chuckles and rolls his eyes, more so out of affection this time. “Well, I’ll see you around, kid.” Noah lightly pats Mosourika’s shoulder, and mouths a ‘thank you’ to Frey. “Can’t keep those lazybones without their boss for too long.”
They all waved goodbye to the captain, and Frey beckoned the kids into her home.
____________________________________________________________________________
“Another fool has fallen to my furious flame! Your armies are nothing compared to the power of an Archmagi!” Mosourika takes a pawn Tyrion left vulnerable on purpose.
“Mosourika, why do you do that?” Tyrion only half-focuses on the game, clearly beating the complete beginner at chess. Tyrion doesn’t have any clue what kids his age would actually want to do, but Mosourika seemed entirely willing to try the game out.
“Do what?”
“This dramatic, ‘archmage’ thing. It’s…kinda…”
She almost instantly loses her energy. “Weird, right?” Mosourika struggles to meet Tyrion’s gaze anymore.
“Well, I mean…I’ve never seen anyone act like you do.”
“That’s because they’re all boring cowards!” Mosourika blurts out. “I-I mean, I dunno. It’s fun. I get to feel like I’m some cool master of magic, instead of a weird kid no one wants to be around.”
“But you’re already cool.” Rika looks shocked, and Tyrion is glad to know she feels happy to hear that. “You tried to help me just because it was the right thing to do.”
“Well. that’s–of course I did! I am the High Archmage of the Cadmium Flames, after all!”
Tyrion turned his attention to the game. Somehow, he feels like he’s going to regret this. “Those who stand in the shadows! Those who fear the light of divinity!” Tyrion feels his face burning, and he struggles to come up with the next line. Tyrion takes Mosourika’s queen. “Your imperials will fall, and your armies will perish!” He takes inspiration from the thing his mom called his unique power. “Kneel and cower before the divine gaze of the Eye of Horus!” At this point he’s gotten into the zone. “I won't let anyone stand in my way. Even if they're a man, king, or god!"
Mosourika looks absolutely astonished, barely able to move pieces at the same pace as Tyrion.
He’s…really cool too!
“And that’s checkmate.” Tyrion places a bishop to trap the king with a dramatic thud. They’re both grinning at each other.
From outside of the room, Tyrion hears someone start clapping, and his mom walks into view of the living room. She’s practically emanating mischievousness. “Wow, Tyrion, that was amazing.” He can hear her trying not to laugh with each word.
“You’re a natural, Tyrion!” Mosourika tries to encourage him, but she’s just making it so much worse. Tyrion vows never to do something like that ever again, especially not in front of his mom. Thankfully, it’s a vow he never truly intends to keep.
____________________________________________________________________________
Some time later that day, the Cuthberts and Mosourika have dinner together.
"Hey, Tyrion, Ms. Cuthbert?"
"Yeah?" Tyrion looks up at her.
"What is it?" Frey smiles gently.
"Can you please call me Rika? Mosourika's a bit of a mouthful, so I like Rika more..."
"Of course, Rika."
"Only if you call me Frey, too. None of that, 'Ms. Cuthbert' nonsense if we're sharing nicknames.
The joy Tyrion feels from Rika is absolutely infectious.