Chapter Text
Aaron always knew that he was different. It was hard to think otherwise, being in foster-care with an imprisoned father and all, a fact which the other kids in care loved to remind him of at every given opportunity.
He hadn’t always taken so graciously to their provocations, there was a time when Aaron had been brimming with anger and righteous indignation towards his circumstances, when he had reacted with his fists before his head. He had hated how they kept referring to him as a criminal’s son, as if Aaron was inherently evil for who his father was, like he was destined for the same thing. Although he had mostly won the physical fights, he never won the arguments, and it didn’t take long for him to realize that by reacting violently he was only proving them right, so he vowed to change his tune, to lock all his anger away, buried deep down in his heart, together with all his ‘bad’ thoughts, everything that was less than good, less than perfect.
Aaron hoped that if he was good, it would be easier for him to be adopted, that someday he would find his own family and a home, a place where he belonged, where he was accepted.
And it worked to an extent, Aaron was always everyone’s first pick, he was charming, hard-working, and eager to please… but as quick as he was put into a foster home he was quicker moved away, there was always something, either there were internal disagreements within the home, the carers were downright neglectful, the family was suddenly blessed with a child of their own and thus no longer comfortable with Aaron’s presence, or the financial aid provided by the state didn’t cut it anymore, either way, one way or another he was never anywhere to stay. Aaron was good, he just wasn’t good enough.
The longer went by the more convinced he became that there must be something wrong with him, he became afraid that all the darkness he kept hidden away was visible under his skin, that people could somehow sense that he was a bad apple, like his father, rotten to the core.
He was reminded of something he had read once, in a psychology book belonging to one of his foster parents and had stuck out to him, 'The call of the void', was what it was called, although he was sure the original words were something in french that he couldn't remember much less hope to pronounce. Either way, it had partly reassured him to know that everyone had a dark place in their minds, from which bizarre and often scary thoughts came. It made him feel less strange about it, less alone; but still, having them was one thing, voicing or acting them out was a whole other.
So, what else could he do but work harder, stamp it down more forcibly, he even made a list in his head and assigned himself points in favour or against: Good kids never got angry, Good Kids never lashed out, Good Kids always got straight A’s at school, Good Kids always did what they were asked, Good Kids always said please and thank you, Good Kids were never a bother, they were always quiet and well-behaved, and they never asked for anything.
And yet.
Aaron wasn’t a quitter by any means, but it was hard not to be discouraged after so many failed attempts. It was just as he was beginning to believe that he would never find a place for him when he first heard about the Magisterium. This is my chance, he thought, and with a new goal in mind, Aaron poured his everything into it, just like with everything he did, but now with renewed hope, that this time, this time, he could finally achieve what he longed for, he would finally be a part of something.
He couldn’t afford to fail again.
Aaron was a ball of nervous excitement at the Iron Trials. He had been practicing for it for the whole summer and now it was finally here, what could be his ticket out of his current life was staring him in the face and Aaron was determined to grab it. He figured he’d had to work extra hard to outdo his peers, all who looked just as eager and hopeful as he was, or well, most of them did.
Callum Hunt was, seemingly, the sole exception. Aaron had quickly remembered his name, it was difficult not to, with how big an impression he made, there was hardly anyone in that examination room who ignored his existence by now, the particular stunt with the flaming rubber ball had ingratiated him to Aaron almost instantly, although he couldn’t say the same for Master Rockmaple.
He was apparently on a mission to flunk all the tests in the most spectacular way possible. Aaron didn’t quite understand, but that didn’t prevent him from feeling sympathetic towards him, it must be hard to be the focus of so much negative attention. He tried to extend a friendly hand to him, although the other boy didn’t seem to appreciate his efforts. Aaron wasn’t offended however, in fact, a part of him was honestly fascinated, he felt the raven-haired boy was like his direct opposite, in the way it was almost as if he was actively trying to be disliked by everyone. How can he bear it?, he thought, Isn’t he afraid of being hated? Of being cast out?
The small prinplick of curiosity he felt for the mysterious boy was temporarily shoved to the back of his mind as Aaron went through the consecutive tests, only swelling back up when he heard the name ‘Callum Hunt’ called out by the same master that had selected him. Aaron was still reeling with euphoria at being chosen, I did it! Finally, there’s a place where I’m wanted!, so it was with pleasant surprise that he aimed what he thought to be an encouraging smile in the boy’s way, only to slip away at the sight of the twin panicked expressions both in Callum’s face, as well as the man accompanying him.
That which followed was a scene of pandemonium that had Aaron staring in abject horror as the Mages physically pried Callum away from his screaming father and proceeded to bodily drag the man away, Surely they can’t do that, right?, he thought, Isn’t that a crime or something? Like Kidnapping? Aaron felt like maybe he should interfere, but he found himself rooted in place, for once, he had absolutely no idea what the right thing to do would be.
He didn’t have to think twice however when the knife flew straight towards Callum and Aaron reached out and plucked it out of the air, Nice, he patted himself on the back before he remembered that that was Not an appropriate thought to be having at the moment, “Here. I guess this is yours, right?”
“Thanks.” the boy mumbled quietly, almost in afterthought, as he grabbed the offered weapon after a brief moment of hesitation.
“That was your father?” Tamara, the other remaining apprentice in their group said, to which Call flared up with defensiveness, and while understandable, Aaron didn’t approve of the judgement in her voice, after all, you couldn’t choose who your parents were.
He would know one or two things about that.
It had been nearly two weeks since the incident with the sand and Call taking the fall for him and Tamara, two whole weeks since Call had stopped talking to them.
He had been ready to apologize for a long time now, but he didn’t feel it fair to confront Call by himself, he and Tamara should do it together, and Tamara said that they should wait until the other boy had cooled off and was ready to forgive them.
Aaron wondered when that would be because he was starting to grow impatient.
He wasn’t an unrealistic person, Aaron realized it wasn’t possible to always be liked by everyone, but he at least hoped they could get along amongst the same apprentice group, otherwise it would bring problems in the long run.
And he wanted Call to like him, being ignored by him for these past few weeks sucked.
But Aaron was also a coward, otherwise he’d already ran off to apologize regardless of what Tamara said.
It was after yet another afternoon spent in the room of Sand and Boredom that things finally came to a head. They were having dinner in the Refectory as Aaron complained about the dull and repetitive task of sorting sand into piles to some of the other apprentices in their year and Jasper somehow took it as an invitation to start bragging, as he so often did, which in turn prompted Call, in true Call-esque manner, to add a sarcastic quip under his breath. Aaron would have laughed, had he not remembered that Call was still mad at him and thus, he wasn’t allowed to laugh at his jokes, but it didn’t matter because Aaron wouldn’t have been able to stay laughing after what Jasper said next.
“It’s because of you that Aaron and Tamara have to suffer. Because you did so badly in the tests. That’s why your whole group is stuck in the sandbox while the rest of us get to hit the playing field.” he snapped, voice dripping with venom. Aaron shook his head at him and started opening his mouth, ready to tell Jasper to shove it, but the other wasn’t done “And I wouldn’t be so snotty about levitating if I was you, Hunt. If you could ever learn to levitate yourself, maybe you wouldn’t slow Tamara and Aaron down so much, limping along after them.”
There was a charged silence as the words settled in. Aaron sat up straight, eyes opened wide in disbelief; he could see in Jasper’s expression that even he realized that he had taken it too far, but in his opinion there wasn’t nearly enough regret in there. Aaron squared his jaw, fists clenched and muscles coiled in anticipation of a fight; anger washed through him in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. Before he could attempt to knock out Jasper’s teeth however, someone slapped their hand hard on the table, distracting him.
“Shut up, Jasper! We’re not sorting sand because of Call. We’re sorting sand because of me. It’s my fault, okay?” Tamara’s voice rang with fury and self-recrimination.
Jasper’s eyes snapped open and he hurried to absolve her, clearly confused at her reaction “What? No! You did really well at the Trial. We all did, except him. He took my spot. Your Master felt sorry for him and wanted-”
Oh no he’d had it, Aaron stood up fast enough to almost knock back his seat “It was never your spot. It’s more than just points.” He spat, hand gripping his fork hard enough to turn his knuckles white; he still had some sense in him not to stab Jasper in the eye with it but not nearly enough to bother to lower his voice. “It’s about who the Master wants to teachㅡand I can tell exactly why Master Rufus didn’t want you.”
Aaron threw the fork at the table and with one last disgusted look at Jasper, he stormed off before he could do something he would regret later. Not because he cared what happened to Jasper mind you, but no matter how angry he was he didn’t want to give the Magisterium enough reason to kick him away, probably nearly maiming, with a fork or otherwise, one of his fellow apprentices qualified as a pretty good reason.
It had been a while since he had blown off his top like that. Usually, Aaron kept a pretty good rein on his temper, he’d practiced his control over it for years after all. In his defense, he was currently exhausted and on edge from the combination of their grueling lessons and the situation with Call, moreover, it wasn’t so much Jasper’s words that had set him off as much as Call’s reaction to them, the way his face had flushed in shame and his eyes became hard but a little resigned, like he believed it to be the truth, even if he refused to accept it.
It wasn’t, not even remotely, and no one should make him feel otherwise.
“Tamara! Call! Get back here!” Aaron shouted, terror filling him as he watched the pack of Chaos-ridden wolves stalk closer towards his friends until they formed a circle around them. He looked around for anything that could help, gaze lingering on Alex Striker’s paralyzed figure. He's supposed to be in charge of them, right? Can’t he do anything?!
Call staggered on his feet and shoved Tamara behind him, ever so brave despite barely being able to stand steadily, urging her to go back and leave him, like a hero, but Tamara refused, of course she would, pulling him back and accidentally making Call lose his already uneven footing just as one of the wolves pounced.
Aaron didn’t quite remember what happened next, one moment he was watching in frozen horror and the next he was standing in front of Call and Tamara, facing the wolves. Instinctively, he thrust his hands forward to do something, he didn’t quite know what, reaching deep within himself for all the magic that he could scrap up, and what he did find was nothing.
He could vaguely hear someone screaming in the background, Call, but he was quickly lost into the feeling of deep, unfathomable emptiness surrounding him, he didn’t quite know how to describe it, it wasn’t like anything he had ever felt, something was tugging on his chest and suddenly all this darkness was pulling out of him in waves, devouring everything in sight.
He tried to reel it back, keep it from swallowing it all but the force refused to obey him, for a terrifying second he thought that this must be it, this is what was wrong with me all along, he was a monster and the void inside him was going to kill everyone.
But then a voice broke through the chaos enfolding him, “Aaron, stop!” Call's panicked plea managed to return Aaron to his senses in time to see the pitch black substance swallow the pack of wolves, disappearing them into some place unknown, and he fell down on his knees, drained.
Distantly, he heard Tamara call out to him, putting a hand on his shoulder to steady him, followed by others, but the attempts at comfort barely registered through the dying whimpers the wolves had made as the darkness devoured them, the horrible sound still echoing in Aaron’s ears. He buried his head in his arms in an attempt to drown everything out.
Call’s voice was, once again, what broke through the veil of confusion in his mind “Are you okay?”, Aaron slowly nodded once he got his bearings, although he wasn’t sure if it was the truth.
“You don’t understand,” Tamara yell-whispered at Call, unbeknownst to her that Aaron could still hear her, “Aaron’s what they’ve been looking for. He’s the…”
“I’m still here, you know,” Aaron quipped, more looking for an excuse to interrupt her statement than out of any real offense, too afraid of what the end of her sentence would imply.
“Makar,” she finished, unheeding to his inner pleas. Her words were like the final strike of a hammer to Aaron's ears, effectively sealing his fate.
By the time he was finally excused by the Assembly long enough to go back to his room, Aaron was exhausted. He collapsed into the common room’s couch like a puppet whose strings had been cut, unlacing his boots and promptly chucking one at the wall in a sudden fit of rage where it left a dirt mark as the only evidence of his actual feelings towards the situation, instead of the honored and obedient face he put forth in front of everyone at the Magisterium. Not yet satisfied with his small act of rebellion, Aaron was contemplating throwing his other boot to match the first when he was surprised by the sound of a door being gently pushed open, followed by a concerned voice. “Uh, are you okay?”
Aaron wasn’t really expecting any of his roommates to be there when he came back to brood. He said as much.
“Well, Tamara went off with Jasper somewhere," Call said in ways of an explanation. "I guess they’re friends again.”
In any other circumstance, Aaron would have had something to say about that considering how Jasper had been a downright dick to Call and barely pleasant to anyone else so far, but right now he didn’t have the energy to feel anything other than apathy towards who Tamara chose to hang out with, “Whatever.”
Call seemed to sense that something wasn’t right, if the whole boot-throwing thing hadn’t already tipped him off, that is. “So, you must be really excited about all this… chaos magic stuff.”
“Sure,” he said, unable to keep the sarcastic edge to his voice “I’m thrilled.”
That seemed to catch Call off guard, “Do you want me to leave you alone so you can throw your other boot?”
Aaron sighed, defeated “Sorry,” he said, dragging a hand along his face in hopes it would clear some of the exhaustion away. “I just don’t know if I want to be a Makar.”
“Why not?” Call asked after a beat, seeming surprised. Aaron felt the reaction was overblown, he thought Call out of all people would agree with him.
But maybe that’s exactly what was so strange about it. Call probably didn’t expect all this coming from Aaron, no one expected Aaron to be anything other than perfect. “You don’t understand,” he said, a note of frustration in his tone. “Everyone’s acting like this is great news, but it’s not great for me. The last Makar died at age fifteen, and, fine, she pushed back the war and made the Treaty happen, but she still died. And she died horribly.”
“You’re not going to die,” Call said firmly, like it didn’t contradict everything he had ever claimed before about the Mages and their murderous ways. “Verity Torres died in a battle, a big battle. You’re at the Magisterium. The Masters won’t let you die.”
“You don’t know that.” Aaron said. He appreciated Call’s attempts at cheering him up, he really did, but it wasn’t working.
Call must have realized he wasn’t exactly the best source of confidence in the Magisterium because the next second he completely changed his approach, “Okay, fine. Then you should run away.”
Aaron’s head snapped up at that, shocked that the other boy would even suggest such a thing, although thinking better of it, of course he would. “I’m not going to run away!”
“Well, you could.”
“No, I couldn’t.” Aaron was angry at Call’s persistence, doesn’t he get it by now? “I don’t have anywhere to go.”
Call was apparently adamant in keeping up his oblivious act. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t you notice anything? Didn’t you wonder where my parents were at the Trial?”. Aaron demanded, despairing, and then he couldn’t stop, the confessions gushing out of him like water out of a broken dam “I don’t have any. My mom’s dead, my dad ran off when I was two. I come from a foster home. More than one. They’d get bored with keeping me, or the checks from the government wouldn’t be enough, and they’d push me on to the next home. I met the girl who told me about the Magisterium in my last foster home. She was someone I could talk toㅡuntil her brother graduated from here and took her away. At least you always had your dad. Being in the Magisterium is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t want to leave.”
“I’m sorry,” Call mumbled under his breath, “I didn’t know.”
But it was too late, the dam was already open. “After she told me about the Magisterium, coming here became my dream. My only chance. I knew I’d have to pay the Magisterium back for all the good things it’s done for me,” then he added, painfully “I just didn’t think it would be so soon.”
“That’s a horrible thing to think. You don’t owe anyone your life.” Call said, like it was obvious, and oh how he wished that was true, if he had even half of Call’s impudence and freedom of spirit, he could simply say ‘Screw this’ and be done with all of it.
“Sure I do.” Aaron said, because he was nothing like Call, he was cowardly and lacking confidence and he wasn’t worth anything other than whatever he could give the Magisterium in exchange for welcoming him, and what he could give was his loyalty, and his life, apparently. “And it’s not just me. I’m a chaos magician." he said, with a little more bitterness than he meant. "I’ll need a counterweight. A human counterweight. Who’s going to volunteer for that?”
“It’s an honor to be the counterweight for a Makar.” Call said, and Aaron knew he was just saying that because there was no way he actually meant it.
“The last human counterweight died when the Makar died in battle,” Aaron said, reminding the other just how horrible a fate his counterweight could be signing up for, “And we all know what happened before that. That’s how the Enemy of Death killed his brother. I can’t see anyone lining up for that.”
“I will.”
Aaron stopped dead in his tracks, taking a second to properly digest the meaning of the other boy’s words and yet another to realize he actually meant it. For a terrible second, he felt his heart leap in his chest with something very much like glee before he quickly squashed the feeling down, horrified, “You can’t! Didn’t you hear anything I just told you? You could die.”
“Well, don’t kill me. How about our goal is to not die?" Call said, cheeky and presumptuous, as always, "Both of us. Together. Not dying.” he finished lightly, a half-grin on his face like he hadn’t just offered Aaron his life, his freedom, and his very soul, for him to take. Like he wasn’t giving up the chance to have a happy and normal life, as a mage or otherwise, and go fight a war he didn’t believe in simply because Aaron needed him by his side.
Aaron ducked down, trying to hide the tears he felt threatening to escape his eyes. He knew he wasn’t succeeding as he looked up at the other boy, hoping his gaze at least conveyed just how grateful he was, since his own words couldn’t. Had he been a better friend, or even a better person, he would have refused, Call didn’t deserve to be dragged into this mess, but he wasn’t. He was selfish, and he wanted this one thing. He had had friends before, maybe even best friends, although he was hesitant to call them that, but nothing like this, no one who would trust their life to Aaron, and who Aaron would trust his own right back in a heartbeat. His counterweight.
“Okay," he said, finally, "If you still want to. When it’s time, I mean.”
And he hoped he would, because Aaron couldn’t think of anyone else he’d rather have.
Aaron didn’t know how he had let himself fall into this situation. It was bad enough that he was hanging down from his ankle, facing down at a container with a freaking Chaos elemental, while Drew of all people held onto the chain, the only thing keeping him a few feet from certain death; now the other boy had also started droning at him about how hard being an undercover villain was.
“So you’re going to kill me?” Aaron said, tiredly. “Because of all of that? Because I’m a Makar?”
Drew just laughed maniacally. Part of him wanted to yell at him to hurry up and be done with it, but the logical, saner part scrambled his brains looking for ways to stall for more time until someone, hopefully a Master, noticed his absence and came to his aid.
And the aid came, just not the one he was hoping for.
“Hey Drew.” Call taunted, a haughty grin on his face despite looking worse for wear. “This sure doesn’t look like pony school to me.”
Drew seemed just as shocked at Call’s appearance as Aaron was. No, not you. What are you doing here? Go back, please!
But Call ignored his mental pleas, engaging Drew into a conversation Aaron couldn’t be bothered to make out, barely hanging on to consciousness as he was, the increasing pain on his ankle the only thing keeping him from completely slipping out.
He could only hope that Call at least had the foresight to bring Tamara with him, otherwise they were both doomed.
Lo-and behold, Aaron felt something tugging his chains and then he found himself being hauled up and lifted onto the rafter, he could barely make out Tamara’s familiar silhouette pulling him close, checking him for wounds and then taking his manacles into her hands, frantically working to undo his bindings.
Of course, even with Call doing his best to distract him, he couldn’t keep Drew from the realization that his prisoner had escaped, prompting him to sic the Chaos elemental on them.
Aaron watched paralyzed with horror as the ghastly, nightmarish creature broke free from its prison and reached for Call, a frantic cry tore from his own throat as he tried in vain to work magic into his injured limbs and do something, begging the void to answer his call, but it remained unresponsive, unreachable. Vaguely, he heard Tamara scream too, although she held Aaron back from rushing in.
He could only stay back and watch, powerless, how Call sunk his knife into the monster’s shifting body, how the elemental made another grab at him and the boy barely managed to escape its deathly clutches, again and again.
Aaron had never felt so useless. How did this make sense? He was the Makar, he should be the one out there, fighting to protect his friends, he wasn’t supposed to be the one being protected.
If something happened to Call, if he failed to keep his counterweight safe when he’d only just gotten him thenㅡ
A howl interrupted Aaron’s downward spiral of thoughts as Havoc lunged at the Chaos elemental, sinking his teeth into its skin, which provided Call with a chance to plunge his knife once again on the creature’s side. The elemental screeched a horrible sound and Aaron couldn’t help a tiny part of him from being glad when the monster turned on Drew, sucking the life out of him, glad that it had been Drew and not Call.
“Call!” Tamara yelled down at him, successfully snapping the boy’s attention from the bloodchilling sight of Drew’s final moments. “Call, get out of there!”
“I can’t!” Call shouted back, knife pointed at the creature hunched over Drew’s corpse.
“Go that way!” Tamara said gesturing to the doors behind him “Look for anything ㅡ a window, anything. We’ll meet you outside.”
Now with Aaron’s wrists and ankle free, although barely functioning, both him and Tamara made their way down the rafters, Aaron looking back once to see Call limping towards the door Tamara had pointed him towards while carrying Havoc tucked against his chest. He tried to tell himself they’d both be fine and concentrated on making it out of the building safely and hopefully getting help.
-
Aaron couldn’t believe they had somehow made the thing with the sign work; granted, it was supposed to be for signaling the Magisterium, but that hardly seemed to matter as he took Call’s hand into his own, hauling him to his feet, safe and sound. That could have gone wrong on so many levels, Aaron thought grimly.
“Aaron!” Tamara yelled, pointing at something behind them. Aaron turned swiftly around and saw what she was signaling at, confirmed by Call’s voice beside him, “Chaos-ridden.”
“Come on!” Aaron ran towards the sign, helping Call climb up after him, that’s when he felt it, the void finally sprung from the depths of his exhausted body and mind to heed his call. Aaron did his best to channel it, let it wrap around him like a vice and through him to his enemies, it didn’t matter how much of him was left by the end of it, he couldn’t risk his friends, his loved ones again, if he had this power, then he’d brandish it as needed.
“Aaron!” Call’s voice was once again what cut through the dark haze in Aaron’s jumbled mind. Part of him wanted to latch at it like a moth to a fire, to cling to the elusive yet steady presence that was Call’s soul to ground him, but he hesitated. He was scared of what he could do to Call if he attempted to draw from his soul as he was now, he had already been so close to losing him that day, he didn’t want to risk a repeat of the Madden brothers’ tragedy. Aaron could deal with the fall back of chaos magic by himself.
His attempt to ignore Call’s cries were thwarted however as the boy tripped and came crashing down on Aaron, pinning him down. “Leave me alone!” he shouted, twisting and thrashing in an attempt to free himself from the other boy’s hold, to no avail “I need to ㅡ I need to ㅡ”
“You need to stop,” Call pleaded, grabbing him from the front of his uniform to make him meet his eyes and Aaron did, they were tired but firm and they drew him in. “Aaron, you can’t do this without a counterweight. You’ll die.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Aaron said as he continued to struggle in his friend’s grip, Better me than you.
His response didn’t seem to be to Call’s liking because he tightened his hold on him. “Tamara is waiting. We can’t leave her. You have to. Come on. You have to”
Aaron’s gaze focused on him. He knew what the other boy meant. Live. Use me. His eyes seemed to say. Aaron breathed in, letting the feeling that was Call wash through him like a purifying stream, he concentrated on thrumming life burning within, he didn’t draw from it, not unless he needed to, but it helped feeling it there, it grounded him.
“Okay.” Call said, apparently satisfied with Aaron’s degree of calmness, and eased himself off of him. “Okay, Aaron. Let’s go.” he held out his hand and Aaron hesitated, Call was barely standing on two feet himself, but ultimately took it, relishing the warmth it provided.
Later, as both him and Tamara hefted an unconscious Call back to the Magisterium and to the infirmary and even after they had to drag their feet to tell and retell the day’s events to the Masters and members of the Assembly, that warmth never left him.