What's a King to a Prince?
September 2, 2025
@Dealla Prince
Mentioning @Cassius Hirano
Mercy hated this stupid school. Well, maybe hate was a strong word, but it was easy to see how his taciturn distrust of the castle could spiral into an uncomfortable loathing that settled deep into his bones when he was incredibly lost. He could count the number of times he’d gotten lost at Blackbourne on one hand, all of those instances having been in his first week at the Academy, but he couldn’t allow himself any grace in this entirely foreign and perceivedly hostile environment. He had to be on his toes, sharp, ready for whatever nonsense they threw at him next. First, a talking hat declaring that he fit in with the cunning and the sly, then what? A grizzly bear walking around the halls, offering rides to prefects? Thank god Ami had already graduated.
His first day of class, over with and in the books. Confusing, befuddling, bewildering, all of it— there was little Mercy hadn’t felt throughout the rollercoaster of the day. Pride when he easily fell into the familiar rhythm of notetaking in History of Magic, anger when he couldn’t figure out how to cast anything with the stick now glued, by necessity, to his side in Charms, and now, fear. And bitterness. It took a lot to make Mercy hate something that wasn’t a garishly tacky piece of clothing, but the tall, spacious corridors still somehow managed to make him feel claustrophobic, and his breathing was becoming an unfortunate imitation of his measured panting after a particularly strenuous lacrosse match.
A shaky hand reached out to lean against the cold stone of the wall as he steadied himself, trying to focus on his breathing so it would settle into its normal rhythm and his heartbeat would stop pounding in his ears. He was a little lost, but it wasn’t the end of the world. There was no reason for him to be freaking out this much. Sure, it was maybe his own fault for waving off Cassius’s offer earlier to walk back to the dorms together, citing a need to familiarize himself with the castle, but what good was familiarizing oneself with what seemed to be one big circle? Why couldn’t he find a blasted staircase anywhere? The culture shock was more than he had expected, despite his barrage of questions directed at a largely unhelpful Uncle Song, who had as much firsthand experience with Hogwarts as a laptop.
Why did everyone else seem to have everything figured out when he couldn’t even figure out how to get back to his dorm?
“God, these stairs are stupid,” Mercy muttered to himself as he finally started walking again, his breathing finally subsiding to some semblance of a normal rate. Where even was he? Head hanging low, he continued on his barrage through the corridors, not noticing the looming shadow as he rounded the corner at something between a leisurely stroll and a panicked speedwalk, inevitably colliding with the person on the other side.
What's a King to a Prince?
Dee loved this school. She really did, with all the stubborn, imprudent determination with which a moth loves the flame, despite the danger of getting burnt. (Despite having been burnt, in fact in many ways, and often.) It was hard to imagine that this was her last year at this school, her last first day, her last time entering a classroom and being surprised because the professor had been replaced over summer, with neither warning nor reason given. (Unless she improbably managed to fail her N.E.W.T.s - but that was a ridiculous idea in itself.)
She was lost in thought as she wandered the corridors that held six years of memories, with only the vague goal of heading to dinner at some point. Every inch of the castle seemed covered in them, corners where she'd laughed with Aly, debated with Peri, (kissed Jack). Fallen for Mad, almost a year ago. In a few days, when the professors started to lecture them about the importance of this year, how it would set the course for the rest of their lives, and began to pile on essays and spell practice and projects, she supposed the nostalgia would evaporate quickly, making way for impatience instead: to be done, to be out beyond these walls that had provided the structure for such a large part of her life, but for now ... Dee enjoyed the moment that belonged to her alone.
And to the lad who ran into her with what seemed like unnecessary force as she took a turn that would bring her closer to the central stairwell (and dinner). Not too tall, not too sturdy, and decidedly unprepared for the collision, the hard head knocking against her chin had her stumbling backwards a step before she caught herself, rubbing at her jaw. "Ow," she said, the tone somewhere between surprised and offended. Kids these days - never pay attention to where they're going. Irresponsible, really.
Said kid was even less tall and less sturdy than Dee was, she observed as she squinted down at him. A first year, or maybe second, judging from his height and the top of his head - she'd lost track of the younger students ages ago, particularly if they weren't in her House, or had the dubious pleasure of facing her on the race track. Which this one wasn't, as a glance at the crest on his school robes confirmed. A young serpent, a long way from its nest. "I recommend looking forward instead of down when you storm around corners," she commented drily. "With a few more centimetres of height and the proper enthusiasm, you might manage to break someone's nose with your forehead next time."
What was he doing here, anyway? Classes were over, the corridors were largely abandoned, and the closest common room was Ravenclaw's tower. "Are you looking for something?"
@Mercy King
"One can never consent to creep when one feels an impulse to soar."