Chapter Text
William was tired of his life. It was the same exact thing everyday. Exhaustion, followed by exhaustion, with a sprinkle of.. hmm.. exhaustion!
Today, he got up at the loud knocking of his thick wooden door. It was a sort-of alarm clock for him, telling him he needed to put on his tunic, grab his spell books, and get ready for his training.
Prince William’s training was rigorous. The King, King Henry, personally taught him everyday on spells that progressively got more advanced as the Prince grew up.
It started off weak, with small fireballs, and slowly got as complicated as where he is today, knocking people unconscious with a flick of a finger.
He practiced spells for hours— approximately from 8-12 with a thirty minute lunch break, then from 12:30-7:00. After which, he got a dinner and was sent off to bed.
That may seem like a lot, in which it is, but it is even longer than it sounds like.
Spells take a lot out of the user, and have lasting effects.
Over the years, the Prince has become a makeshift ball of symptoms— migraines every day, fatigue filling his entire body, and just overall pain every step of the day.
He repeats this every day except for Sundays, where he gets his “relaxation day.” This is the only day he is permitted to break his routine, although he is still not allowed to leave the innards of the castle.
William throws his bag over his shoulder, exiting out his door, to which a knight escorts him to the training room or the throne room depending on the day.
Today is William’s “graduation” ceremony, to which he moves on to the next spell book. It is a Saturday, so after he practices all his spells he can sleep the rest of the day (and for Sunday, if he wishes).
All he hears is the soft putter-patter of his shoes and the clanking of the knight’s armor behind him as he makes his way to the throne room— of course, for the ceremony he would have to be in the most regal of places.
As he enters, he is welcomed with the sight of King Henry, piercing blue eyes and blonde tousled hair sitting on his throne, one leg lazily resting on the other.
“Hello, William. Are you ready for your final test?” the King says, a snarky smirk on his face.
William nods, setting his books down as he takes a deep breath. “What spells would you like me to preform, my lord?”
A sly smile takes over Henry’s face. “For your final test before moving on.. I would like you to do something.. new. I know it is not something in which w e have practiced but if you truly understand what you have been doing you will be able to pull it off without much effort past a regular spell.”
A million thoughts clutter William’s mind and in an instant it goes blank. A new spell? What could it be? What does he mean?
Henry grabs one of his personal spell books— the bright red kingdom emblem stamped on to it. It is sealed with a heavy, spell-bound lock that would take an extremely strong sorcerer to break.
The pages flicker as the King unlocks the book and begins to flip through the pages, eventually landing on a dusty page, in which he quickly rubs off with his hand and hands to William.
“This is a… mind control spell if you will. You can use it to take thoughts and put it into a person’s mind or even force them to act in which they do not wan to. Powerful sorcerers and clerics such as yourself have used this in the past to stop hearts and even end wars.”
The Prince’s jaw drops, almost to the floor. *HE WHAT??* That’s what the King wants me to do? I..
Unfortunately for William, he knows the consequences of saying no to the King. He’ll be forced to do more rigorous training with less food for a while, just to show him who the boss is.
The Prince slightly shakes his head up and down, shaking, inspecting the spell book for the incantation.
The King smiles, glad there has been no fight today. He nods at a knight, who leaves for a bit, coming shortly back in with a prisoner.
The prisoner whimpers, scared. “What’s going on? Don’t kill me, please, I didn’t mean to talk about the kingdom in that way, you misunderstand-“
“Silence.” Henry’s word is sharp, leaving no room for error, before he looks over at William, nodding his head once.
“Cerebrum Imperium,” he whispers, feeling his brain dragged into the man’s. A wave of fear washed over him as he feel’s what the man is feeling. He gently uses a sleep spell to lull the man unconscious from within himself, feeling the man’s body sink to the ground.
As the man floats down, he feels a disconnect, falling backwards, dizzy from completing such an advanced spell.
The King nods, an evil glint in his eye that does not go unnoticed by one Prince William.
“Good job. You’ve passed. Over the next weeks, we’ll hone in your skills so you can do that easier. For now, goodnight. The knights will take you back to your room.”
The Prince mimics the man previously, his knees touching the ground as he feels the knights latch on to his arms, feeling the King’s spell take over him and he falls asleep.