Chapter Text
The streets of Hawkins were busy on the afternoon of the announcement. Merchants peddled their wares, vendors sold rich meat pies, sticky sweet cakes, and steaming bowls of potato stew the capital was known for. A cacophony of shouting and bartering mixed with the cool damp air. The sun hardly shone in Hawkins any more, instead it rained, and in the breaks between that thick clouds covered the sky and fog crept along alleyways. Nonetheless, today was miserable.
Sir Mike ducked out of the tavern he had been drinking in, and out into the cool air. He made sure not to stumble too much as he headed down the street. This was a tradition, the trip to the tavern before dinner with his father. Not once since he was 15 had Mike actually had a sober meal with his father. To be honest, the man was useless. He was a noble and respected member of the court, but when it came to Mike he often had nothing but complaints to raise. When do you plan on asking for the hand of your betrothed? How can you expect to join the court when you come of age when you spend so much time adventuring? What point is there to slaying dragons when what our kingdom really needs is alliances! He felt like a failure around his father, someone who would never be good enough to carry forth the family name. He wished they could leave it all to his sister, who was truthfully much better suited for the role. Instead he was the one used like a pawn, dressed up in expensive clothing, and talked around at political balls. All he really wanted to do was venture deep into the woods and conquer that festering evil that plagued their kingdom.
Stuck in his own head he slammed into a passerby. Reflexively he reached for his sword's hilt, but quickly retracted his action, instead stepping back to apologize. As he did, the deep purple robes of the figure in front of him captured his attention. He knew these robes. These were the striking robes of a wizard. The boy wearing them appeared to be his age, messy honey brown hair hanging over his forehead and a shocked expression plastered across his face. Magic users were deserving of immense respect and Mike felt he had already failed to show this. He made a hasty awkward bow to correct his error, his fathers voice loud in his ears. Micheal, the disrespect in your eyes is enough to topple our families entire fortune! The wizard bowed back, noting the emblems engraved on his armor. They stood staring at each other amid the busy street.
“Hey.”
Will the Wise had meant to say sorry. He had meant to apologize for his absent minded clumsiness. And he was sure he was about to do so. Except all he said was.
“Hey.”
Maybe in some far off world that was an acceptable way to introduce yourself to the son of one of the king's most trusted advisors. This was not that world. He half expected the boy to begin to laugh at him, maybe shove him to the side and walk on. Only that didn’t happen. The boy smiled. It was a strange lopsided smile that showed his dimples.
“Hey!” The boy responded. His heart skipped a beat, the boy hadn’t shoved him to the side. Will’s eyes dragged across his body trying to memorize every little thing about him. He didn’t know why he was doing it, but something deep inside him told him he had to. From the dimples, to the cheek bones, to the silver armour adorned with vines and the Wheeler family crest, Will couldn’t bare to look away for a second. Then reality crashed down around him. The crest. The armour. The sword. This was Sir Micheal Wheeler of the Honorable Wheeler family. A family that had the ear of the king, a boy destined to join the great court of the king. And he had just said ‘Hey’.
“I am so sorry your honor.” He hurried past the knight bowing as he did, begging for the moment to be over soon. Will the Wise wanted to cover his head with his robe and cry until his shoulders were shaking. But there was nowhere to hide, and he was still late.
The rest of Mike's walk to the manor was uneventful. Though, as hard as he tried he couldn’t get the image of the Wizards face from his head. Nervous eyes and delicate lips flashed through his head as he trudged up the steps of the manor. There was still a light buzz humming though his fingers from the ale – or maybe it was just the abrupt collision that had scattered his mind. A guard removed his cloak as he stepped into the foyer of the castle. He sulked up to his room to remove his armor, clean the grime from his cheeks and dawn a clean tunic. By the time he reached the most grand dining room of the Wheelers manor everyone was there. His father seated at the head, his mother already wasting lavishly tasting wine, his sister watching the table like a hawk in her pearls and jewels, and his little sister sat comfortably in her much too large chair, a tiny wooden bead necklace hanging around her neck.
“Ah, look who’s finally decided to show up.”
“Sit down dear, the food will be served soon.” His mother smiled as pleasantly as she could between sips of her wine. As he sat, Nancy made eye contact with him. She didn’t like coming to these dinners any more than he did. Often she was harassed about the same things he was, and it had only gotten worse since she had become eligible. A steady stream of offers for her hand arrived on the daily, each turned down due to her current suitor. Mike took a sip of water, wondering if maybe he should have had another glass of ale.
“My dear boy, I have news!” Mike's father began, slamming his fist on the table rattling the wine glasses. “The king is to announce this very night that he wishes a quest be attempted to quell this monster's evil.” Mike almost spit out his drink. For two years he had campaigned for the king to send all the best men into the woods. For two years he had hoped he might get the chance to be seen as the talented knight he truly was.
“Who father does this honor fall to?”
“This, my son, is the best part!” He paused to lock eyes with Mike. A shiver slipped down his spine as he imagined what it might be like to ride on a quest for the very king himself. “He has requested Sir Micheal Wheeler the first ride in his honor!” Mike could have jumped into battle right then and there. This is what he had been training for. This was his great quest. “And when you are finished and return home, evil conquered, perhaps you and your betrothed shall celebrate with marriage!”
Mike's heart sank.
Will was sure he would be fired when he arrived at the magic shop. Ms. Alda was harsh with him often, but recently Will had realized she was incredibly scared of his mother and wouldn’t dare fire her youngest son. Will couldn’t understand it since his mother was maybe one of the least threatening people he knew. As he slinked behind the till trying to act like he’d been there the whole time, he dabbed his eyes, still feeling anxious over the meeting in the street. Alda’s Magical Trinkets and Macguffins was always slow around this hour. Will normally ended up sorting scrolls or drawing on spare sheets of paper to pass the time. At this very moment he began to sketch, pencil creating thick lines of graphite. He didn’t quite know what he was drawing until he was halfway finished. It was Micheal. Heat suddenly flushing his cheeks he folded the drawing and hid it deep in his robes. He covered his face with his hands as he replayed the scene in his head. He could have said a hundred different things. Could have smiled back, could have stepped out of the way, instead he stood there starstruck. The drawing sat like a rock in his robes, and the pencil seemed to beg him to draw the knight again. Will practiced restraint, instead practicing his conjuring.
As he mumbled to himself repeatedly, heat filling his veins, focus pooling in his finger tips, a small paperweight began to lift off the desk he sat at. As he increased the speed at which he mumbled, the rock floated higher and higher. Strangely enough it felt easier than usual, perhaps it was a sign his practicing was paying off. Will felt himself smile as he moved the rock back and forth slowly, reveling in his new strength. He was about to try to lift a rogue pen at the same time when the door swung open with such force the glass windows lining the store front shook. Will fell out of his chair and crashed onto the floor in a mess of robes and limbs. He heard Ms. Alda entering the room from the back of the store as he sat up and yanked his hat off from over his eyes.
“What the hell is going on in here!”
“We need to speak to the employer of Will Byers on urgent order from the king.”
“I’m trying to go by Will the Wise right now.” Will added, pushing what remaining courage he had left from his recent use of magic. The guard glared at him, and then motioned at Ms. Alda.
“Is he the one who won the contest last month?” The guard pointed his question solely to Ms.Alda who nodded, still incredibly confused.
“The king has requested an audience with you. I am to escort you to the palace where we will conduct your meeting.”
Will shook his head. “What? You must be joking.”
“Is the king a joke to you?”
“No, it's just -”
The guard crossed his arms and gave him a long look.
Dragged by his robes and pulled back into the streets and almost yanked halfway to the palace gates, Will hardly had time to figure out what was happening.
When Mike finally reached the palace a dark, cold, dusky night had swept over the kingdom. Fog crawled along streets, a bright moon lighting his path. His heart was drumming in his chest. The promise of adventure always put a bounce in this step, but this was something greater than adventure. There was a higher purpose, a more important cause. He could really make a change if he succeeded. But there was also a nervous buzz that seemed to hiss around him. He was about to meet his companions, the people he would venture into battle with, trust with his life. He was terribly anxious about it. What if he couldn’t match their skill - or maybe they couldn’t match his. Worse, what if he said the wrong thing? Travelling through the woods for a week and a half with a pissed off cleric seemed like hell incarnate.
By the time he reached the palace doors he had worked himself into such a mad fit his hands were shaking ever so slightly. As the doors opened Mike was engulfed in the warm glow of lit lanterns hanging from the walls. Mind still reeling with the call of adventure and muddied with the uneasiness of new company, Mike bumped into the doorway of the common room. His haze was immediately broken by loud and familiar laughter.
“Drinking like your mother, now are we, Wheeler?”
Mike shook his head, a smile slipping over his lips, "That's Sir Michael to you, Sinclair.”
“That’s still the stupidest name I have ever heard.” Lucas said, opening his arms to engulf Mike in a hug. The hug remained simple for only a second before Mike felt a knife pressed up against the back of his neck. Grabbing on to Lucas he shoved him into the table they stood beside. As Lucas fell he released his grip on the knife freeing Mike from his head lock. The knight unsheathed his sword and held its tip to Lucas’s neck. The boys watched each other, glazes holding vicious intentions and boyish intensity.
They both laughed, the room filling with their howls. Mike helped Lucas up and began to pat him on the back. A new voice filled the room, the slight lisp incredibly recognizable.
“I leave you two in a room for three minutes and you already got in a scrap without me?” His smile blinded Mike with its usual brilliance.
“Dustin!” He pulled his old friend into a warm embrace, “Where have you been?”
“Preforming for the King, how do you think I got this job?”
“No way!” Mike gave him a light shove, Dustin nodded proudly in response.
“I hear he can make sticky cakes float when he sings.” Lucas added.
“I will not confirm nor deny that fact.”
The world of magic had always intrigued Mike. He wasn’t born with a gift for it, and as a child he never expressed an interest in studying it, instead pursuing sword fighting, close combat, and horse riding. A few times in his early childhood he had been allowed to meet children born to less fortunate families, the kids blessed with the mark of magic only ever used it for entertainment, or cheap party tricks. It was when his family joined the royal court did that change. Dustin was the first of the noble family's children to be born with magic, filling the room with a glow of power each time he picked up an instrument. It was not long into their youth before the boys figured out how they could utilize Dustin's powers to their true potential. Dangerous games that involved flying, stealing books they were told not to read, and even convincing their governess to let them stay up later; the possibilities were endless.
By the time they reached eight, Mike and Dustin saw less of each other. Dustin became wrapped in a world of spell books, lute lessons, and study sessions that dragged on deep into the darkness of the night. Not to say Michael wasn't busy either, his lessons in polite dinner discussions, politics, and war time training seemed endless, but he missed his friend.
The three boys stood crowded around each other, shoving, shouting, and laughing like they had seen each other every day for the past year. The only people who made Mike feel less like a failure now surrounded him, he couldn't be more excited to put his life on the line for theirs.
“So rumor has it - there's one more member joining our party.” Lucas said, leaning back against an expensive wooden table.
“Running a bit late.” Mike smirked, trying to imagine what possible misfit they could add to this group. Dustin was laughing when they heard the noise of a guard opening the sitting room doors. Looking over, Mike's stomach dropped as he noticed the dirty but familiar shade of deep purple draped across the figure's form.
Will's heart skipped a beat. Among the three faces in front of him he recognised only one. His cheeks less dirty than they had been on the street, wearing a deep blue tunic, sword still comfortably strapped to his side stood Sir Michael. They locked eyes for only a second before Will had to look away. A burning sensation grew all over his face as he stepped forward to meet the group.
“Who might you be?” Dustin asked, making a light bow.
“Will the Wise. The king has requested I join you in our conquest as your wizard.” He tried his best to avoid Sir Michael's gaze, feeling it bore into the side of his head.
“That’s good since I don’t think we fully know what we are up against. A magic user that can do more than make desserts dance will be beneficial.” Lucas said, straightening himself from his bow. He held out his hand for Will to shake. “Lucas Sinclair, sharpshooter, animal tamer and ladies man.”
“Self proclaimed!” Dustin laughed, shoving Lucas in the side. Will smiled faintly hands beginning to sweat as he returned the handshake. “And I’m Dustin, it’s wonderful to meet you.” Will shook his hand too, realizing it was time to turn to Sir Michael. The other two boys' attention was pulled from Will on to each other.
“See that was easy! And I didn’t mention women once.”
“Only because you can’t, you don’t know any!”
“Hey, I’ll have you know there’s a girl who I’ve sang with before that -”
“Oh com’on!”
Will looked up at the knight, attempting eye contact for the first time since he had looked away. A lump growing in his throat, they bowed to each other for the second time that day.
“Hey.”
“Sir Michael, you must forgive me, for my clumsiness, I was running late, not thinking,” Will blurted before he could say something else stupid.
“And I was so drunk I was almost about to trip on the cobble stones. It's okay, we all get wrapped up in our thoughts sometimes.” He smiled encouragingly. The Knight's voice trailed off as he studied Will's face. Embarrassed by the intense attention, Will tried to rack his brain for what to say. Instead Sir Michael beat him to it.
“I know the two other boys very well, but if I'm honest I don't think I've ever heard the name Will the Wise before.”
“Well, it's sort of a working title. I won a contest for showing promise as a young wizard. They say the king requested me because of that.” Will didn't quite know if he should believe that. His performance in the contest had been good but not worthy of royal assent. He was tired from the busy day, off and on rushes of adrenaline, magic use, and confusion.
“My mother attended that contest. A charity event right? Maybe she'll remember you. I will ask tomorrow. Also, I like the name. It suits you better than Sir Michael suits me.” Will chucked lightly, noticing how easy the knight was to talk to. “Then again, I don't have much choice when it comes to the name. Sir Michael the Magnificent sounds truly cruel.”
“Hey, you could try Michael the Marvellous.” Will offered, watching as Sir Michael's face showed physical pain in hearing it. Will started to laugh harder. They began offering possible words back and forth until a booming voice commanded the four boys' attention.
“On behalf of the King I am to escort you to the war room. There, we shall discuss our method of attack.”
Lucas made it clear to the rest of the party as they trekked their way down the long extravagant hallways that he was especially excited to enter the war room.
“I hear there's a collection of poison arrows so strong they could kill you if you inhaled too nearby.” He said, starry eyed.
“That's the dumbest idea I've ever heard. How are you going to load the arrows if you can't breathe near them?” Dustin pointed out.
Lucas stopped dead in his tracks, causing Will and Sir Michael to start laughing. “Com'on dumbass, we have a war to start!” Dustin pushed Lucas forward down the hall.
“So you grew up with these boys?” Will asked, looking up at the knight. Sir Michael nodded.
“We were raised together since our families are all members of the court. I ate with them, played with them, trained and studied with them.” He paused, as if caught up in the memories. “I don't see them much anymore. My father wants me to pursue politics, so my studies take up most of my time now.” Will sensed sadness in his eyes. He was mourning his childhood.
Will's childhood had been robbed from him in many ways. First his father leaving, then his horrific encounter with the darkness at such a young age. Will often felt he had hardly gotten a chance to be a kid.
“I'm so sorry.” He mumbled as they turned a corner that led to some ornate doors. Sir Michael shrugged. Carved around the edges of the door was a depiction of many knights banding together to defeat a dragon. Crystals adorned the knights swords and armour. Will had never seen such beautiful art in such a normal place. The doors at his house were not adorned with jewels. They did not have art carved into them with immense detail. Will wished he could stand there and take it in, run his fingers along the woods trenches, and learn the artist's deepest thoughts, but the doors were thrown open leaving Will no time to daydream.
Mike had been in the war room once before at the age of 10, it had been a treat in order to inspire his interest in the planning and conversation that filled the room. Instead, all Mike could really remember was absentmindedly running his hands along the maps that covered the walls and trying to touch as many weapons as he could. When each of their party took a seat at the large circular table in the center of the room, it was like he had entered the room for the first time. Though this time adrenaline was building in his veins at the promise of battle. It was all beginning to feel very real.
The advisor enters the room and curtly sits down at what looks to be the most important chair at the table. The boys exchange looks, anxious energy forming between them.
“Boys, Your country has called upon your service, and you shall answer their call.” Mike leads the group's response to this. He knows exactly what he's supposed to say.
“Yes Sir.” It’s echoed faintly by the other boys but his voice is still the loudest.
“Your king has demanded you band together for the betterment of our country.”
“Yes Sir.” They respond in unison this time.
“You will be asked to do the worst and expected to do so with a smile on your face.”
“Yes Sir.” The chorus responds. Mike glances at Will, trying to catch the emotion in his eyes.
“Nothing you are told will ever leave this room.”
“Yes Sir.” He looked scared.
“You are to show no mercy to the threats you encounter.”
“Yes Sir.” Mike wished he could reach his finger tips out under the table and brush them with the wizards, so he knew that it would all be alright. That nothing terrible would happen to them. But he didn't know the boy, and it wasn't his place.
“All the king's horses.”
“And all the king's men.” The boys responded a final time, the verse of a poem they had been taught since their boyhood. And with that, the meet commenced. Maps were rolled out over the table and men rushed to explain the current situation.
It wasn't much different from how it had been for years.
It lurked in the forest taking farmers, noble men, and magic users alike. It showed them horrible visions that warned of their death. It had eaten away at the kingdom for years. Many parties had ventured into the woods to vanquish it, each returning crazy, lost, or never returning at all.
“But they didn't have what you boys have,” the man at the head of the table announced. Each of them leaned in waiting in anticipation. “You gentlemen have an insider. A spy. A man who understands the inner workings of its evil and can lead you to victory!” His fist hammered down on the table causing it to tremble. They exchanged looks of curiosity. For a brief second he caught Will's eyes, his face was pale, drained of all color, and his eyes seemed to dance with a terror induced realisation. Something twisted in Mike's stomach.
“The very wizard before you has a connection with the beast that can only be interpreted as supernatural! He shall lead you to victory.”
Dustin laughed, it was a proud joyful laugh and Lucas high fived him. Mike got jostled with the raging victory of their party. He wanted to celebrate too. They had a chance. But all he could picture was Will's horrified face.
Will's blood ran cold when he heard that word. Spy. It had been used before by a cleric his mother had taken him to after the attack. It was whispered behind closed doors and shoved under beds before Will had had a chance to understand what it meant. He understood now, and had understood for quite some time. He had been used for the beasts bidding in his childhood. He had been taken control of. He had been helpless. It knows everything, Will thought as the boys crashed around him. He would be used again. This time by the order of someone with far too much power.
Another truth revealed itself to Will as they settled around the table once more. He had not been called upon for his “Magic abilities”, he was here for this reason and this reason alone. It was explained his use was to be a compass of sorts for the party, a legend to decode the beast's mind, a means to an end. The fate of the kingdom rested in his hands, which were trembling much too hard beneath the table. Had the room gotten colder, or was he just shivering?
He glanced at the knight. Sir Michael's features had hardened as he listened to the strategy being laid out for them. His mouth had formed this sideways tilt as he watched the room from under his dark eyebrows. Suddenly he had become so focused, so enraptured with the plan. Will steadied his shaking hand under the table, clenching them until he could feel his nails dig into his skin. He tried his hardest to summon Michael’s focus, stuffing his fear as deep down as he could.
When they were done laying the ground plan for their journey it was explained they would stay the night in the castle. A few moments of luxury before they were thrown into the woods to fend for themselves. The four boys stood outside their rooms, Will wondered if he should just enter his room and try to forget everything about his day. He was so tired and he didn't know what to say to the boys. Dustin did.
“Well, I think we might actually have a shot, that is if these idiots can smarten up enough to not get us killed. I think we should all get a good night's sleep and try our best to forget we could be marching to our deaths soon,” he gave them a toothy smile. Lucas nodded and opened the door in front of him, he saluted them as he backed into the large room.
“Well put Dustin,” Turning to Sir Michael, “Tonight might be a good night to call upon your maiden, Mikey!” In response Michael buried his face in his hands, covering his blush. Dustin shoved him in the side lightly.
“Get one last night in before you are pulled into the arms of danger!” Dustin offered dramatically, sending a knowing wink at Sir Michael. Will felt his stomach turn, but he ignored it. Dustin smirked and bid Lucas goodnight, and the knight followed, still shaking his head. Will gave a tiny wave to Lucas before he shut the door. Dustin was next, claiming he must retire his voice for the next day. Sir Michael and Will crossed the hall to the rooms left, a strange silence between them. Will didn't know what to say. Standing in front of Michael in the flickering candlelight of the hallway, watching their warmth wash over his features. Will felt a feeling he associated only with magic use dance though his stomach. They seemed to realise they were just standing there both at once.
“Well I better-” Sir Michael blurted.
“Yeah it's late, and-” Will nodded in response.
“Again, I'm sorry about this afternoon, I wasn't thinking straight, so stupid of me to be wandering the streets in my own head, not paying attention.”
“Are you kidding me?” Will grinned, “It's my fault.”
Michael shook his head. Will laughed. “We could go in circles like this forever if we keep this up.”
“How about we agree to never speak of it again?” Sir Michael asked, eyes wide looking down hopefully at Will.
“I like that idea.”
“Great. So we agree you were never running late today, and I was definitely not stumbling down the streets drunk out of my mind?”
“Alright.” Will smiled.
“Alright.” Sir Michael smiled back, reaching for his door handle.
Once his door closed Will sunk against its polished wood down to the floor. It was in the first quiet he had had to himself since the magic shop that he whispered Sir Michael a goodnight. It felt like a dare to even let the breath leave his lips. Maybe somehow he would know what Will had said.
Mike was trying very hard to fall asleep. His heart was stomping along in his chest much harder than it should have been, and he was beginning to be drenched in a cool sweat as he rolled around in the huge bed, trying to get comfortable. It must be the quest that was making him nervous. Something about standing in that hallway had made it all so real. The war room, how nervous Will looked. It was all getting to his head. It had to be the quest.
Finally after a few minutes Mike sat up and stared out the window. The wing of the castle they had been placed in was high enough he could see the lit streets sprawl out below its tower. Slowly, Mike pulled himself out of bed and across the cool marble floor, blanket dragging along behind him. He reached the balcony door and quietly unlocked it. He slipped out onto the balcony and leaned against the stone carved railing. A light breeze lifted the tips of his curls off his forehead, and he felt his cheeks flush with warmth.
Mike did this often when he couldn't sleep. It was a ritual, he needed the fresh air and the moonlight on his face, there was always something in the back of his mind he couldn’t quite work out. But now that he was here, in the King's palace, it felt like he could be caught doing something wrong. His father, the quest, the King, his betrothed, and strangely enough - Will. Something about his eyes, his smile when Mike made him laugh, and the way his wizards hat shifted over his hair made Mike nervous. It was all he saw when he closed his eyes.
He tried to picture Jane. She was beautiful, with long brown hair, rosy cheeks, and long lashes that batted at Mike when he glanced at her. She wore tight corsets that hugged her form, and poofy skirts adorned with jewels. They shined like the stars that littered the sky above him. She was born with the gift of magic, moving things with her mind, opening locked rooms, and spying on the goings on of any person she had seen before. Mike imagined they were on one of their walks, slowly making their way through her stepfather's gardens. He tried to picture how her eyes looked as the afternoon sun caught them, how her hair whipped in the wind, the smile spreading across her face as she picked a flower, how she giggled when she wiped blood from her nose after lifting a pebble, and how her hand felt in his.
Her hand was small, fingertips rather dainty compared to his. On the particular afternoon he was remembering he had turned to tuck one of her locks of hair behind her ear. His free hand ran across her cheek, as he bent down to kiss her. A lump formed in Mike's throat. He couldn't remember how the kiss felt. It was void. Dull. He retraced his steps, bothered by how empty the memory became when their lips actually met. He pulled the heavy blanket over his head like a hood and sank against the railing. The knight resolved to get lost in the streets below, watching a few men stumble out of a pub, a woman rush home from work, and a magic user conjure a flame to light his way down the cobblestone streets. He drowned out his thoughts by listening. Music floated through the air from far away, probably the poorer side of town where they partied until dawn. In Hawkins, music was always a distraction. Something to make people forget about those carried out to the woods. The bodies, visions, and dark beckonings could be shoved away with music, ale, and dancing. Sir Michael knew this well.
He listened and watched and tried not to think, until he became too tired to bear his own consciousness. He gave into the old restless sleep. It consumed him.