"Virgil," Quintin's voice said through the door early the next morning. "Virgil, you are expected in the dining hall in less than an hour for breakfast." No noise came from the bedroom, "Prince Virgil! If you do not make your presence known this instant I will enter the room without consent." Nothing.

Due to his mutism, Virgil, the guards, and whatever poor servant had the chore of helping him prepare in the morning had established a code through knocking. Two knocks meant to come in, three meant I'm changing, and four was the equivalent to 'fuck off or else.' Logan was the only one immune to this, he could come in whenever (though if Virgil knocked three times he'd wait to be invited in) and if Virgil really wanted to be alone he'd just tell Logan that when he came in.

But Virgil did not knock. No noise at all was heard in the room and so Quintin sighed angrily, probably thinking the prince had escaped again and that he'd have to take the blame for the night guard's idiocy and be forced to run another ten laps around the castle. With a grumble and a curse, Quintin opened the door to the bedroom only for something soft and plush to slam into his face.

He caught the pillow as it fell to the ground, "Good morning Prince Virgil," the guard said as the boy in question laid sleepily in the bed, "You have a busy day, the servants should be here any minute now to help prepare you. Or are you going to scare them off again?"

Virgil hissed as Quintin drew the blinds open, pulling the blankets over his head, one hand fumbling for the notebook he kept on his bedside table and writing a quick note to the other man in the room. 'Feel sick. Not leaving. Go away.'

"You made a deal with your grandfather Virgil, you are expected to be out of bed and in the dining room within the hour ready to begin your day."

'Not going. Sick.'

Quintin rolled his eyes, "Oh, well, if you're sick then I suppose I'll have to call for the royal physician." He said, Virgil didn't remove the blanket from his head, "But if that happens then he'll be too busy looking over you to check on your brother and friends." Virgil peeked his head out of the sheets slightly, "Your grandfather wanted him to give Prince Janus and Remus a check-up before the memorial and possibly even have a few healing spells done. But if you're sick-"

Virgil was out of the bed before he could finish, writing a quick note for Quintin to disregard what he said as he left the comfort of his sheets. He didn't know if the guard was lying or not but it didn't matter, if any of his friends or brother had a chance at a healing spell he wasn't going to take it away from him. Even if what he had told Quintin was a lie, which it wasn't, he was sure he could deal with sickness for a little longer.

A servant arrived a little while later only for Virgil to push them and Quintin out of the room so he could change. Even back home he had never allowed the servants to help him change or even start the tub for him. That wasn't going to change here, no matter how much his grandfather insisted he let them do it or help him. He sighed as he leaned back against the door for a moment before bathing and changing.

He left the room, letting Quintint escort him to the dining room. Logan was already waiting there for him and talking to Ira about their last lesson. Virgil rolled his eyes as he pulled Logan away from her. He knew Logan liked to learn about stuff or whatever but did he really have to fuel the fire? Once a nerd always a nerd he supposed. And it wasn't like he was asking any 'bad' questions or about Black Magick or anything, he was just being curious.

"Good morning Virgil," Logan greeted.

Virgil smiled at him, 'Wanna visit everyone after breakfast? I think if we're fast enough, we might be able to sneak into the kitchens to get the others some food before anybody notices.'

Logan nodded his agreement and the two take their seats next to each other at the table while t̶h̶e̶i̶r̶ ̶c̶a̶p̶t̶o̶r̶s̶ Markus, Ira, and Tafe made quick conversation.

"Do you think the kitchen staff would let me make crofters cookies?" Logan asked quietly, Virgil raised an eyebrow at him, "It's Roman's favorite dessert, I think he's upset with me. He's been distant."

'Well, to be fair, he is locked in a tower-like one of the damsels from those stupid stories,' Virgil reasoned with a shrug, 'I hate it here. Are you sure you marked the right spot on the map?'

"Of course I did," Logan responded, "But there's no telling whether the bird made the delivery to the right place or if the winds knocked it off its course or what."

'Maybe Roman should have sent a squirrel instead,' Virgil laughed.

"That's preposterous Virgil, Roman can't talk to squirrels."

'Oh, but he can talk to dragons and birds?' Virgil replied, Logan, smiled lightly as he rolled his eyes.

Logan glanced towards his uncle and the other two adults, they were still standing in the corner of the room but were beginning to wrap up their conversation. And their guards were standing against the walls, "I'll see if I can find a way to resend that information. Maybe I can find a spell to help us?" Virgil nodded before pointing to the group of three who were now making their way to the table and settling themselves into the seats just as the food was brought out for them.

Virgil sighed as the class for that day ended for all except him.

Logan hesitated at the door, waiting for Virgil to at least start packing so they could head out together. He was surprised Virgil hadn't already made a run for it, or simply ditched the class altogether like he normally did. But a quick wave from Virgil telling him to go on without him, and Franklin edging him out of the room caused him to leave.

Eventually, Virgil was left alone with Ira, even Quintin had stepped out of the room, opting to wait just outside the door rather than stay in the small classroom. He shifted on his chair as he waited for her to finish gathering her papers. A moment or two passed and Virgil had turned his gaze to the table, staring at the wooden surface beneath his hands as he waited.

A book was dropped in front of him, thinner and shorter than the textbook they used for regular classes but still pretty heavy. 'A Practical Companion to Potions and Spells. By Amelia Sheeth and Jacob Hearth.' Virgil picked the book up and flipped through a few pages quickly before looking up at Ira who tapped the cover, "Every session, you will be assigned to learn at least three spells or potions of your choice and one of mine. And are expected to return having at least an okay handle with all of them. Understood?"

Virgil looked down at the book before taking his notebook out, 'I'm not learning black magic.'

Ira turned away from him as soon as she finished reading, "Actually, you'll be learning it today." Virgil's eyes widened with panic and he started to write again only for Ira to use a spell and cause the notebook to go flying elsewhere. "Don't worry. We'll start small, if I gave you something too big it could kill you and I made a deal not to let that happen. This spell is supposed to open up your magic to the 'dark' arts. Once you learn that, everything else should come easy!"

Virgil shook his head and stepped around the table, his eyes were wide and his hands shook as he tried to sign only to remember Ira wouldn't understand him. "Bu- I- Ah- My- Or-"

Ira turned to face him just as Virgil's voice, still hoarse and scratchy odd sounding, faded into a series of whimpers as he grabbed at his head. "Calm down," she told him, her voice sounding much gentler than you would expect from someone who tried to kill you but with just as much harshness as you would expect from a teacher as strict as her. "I said we'd start with something small, nothing dangerous for your or anyone else."

"Cor-cor-corup-"

"Corruption?" Ira finished for him, Virgil nodded, "I've only ever had three of my students die from corruption relations. One beginner wizard who lost control of their center so much so they killed themselves and another student who tried to help them, and my son. Statistics speak well for you. Like I said, I won't be rushing it. You'll have to trust-"

Virgil glared at that idea and turned away from her at it, Ira huffed angrily as she used another spell to make the notebook fly back to Virgil, "Just sit, here in the center. We begin immediately."

Another three days had passed and Virgil had begun to doubt any help was coming. Not only that but he had yet to be able to do any dark magic and Ira was beginning to get rather impatient. It had come to a point where this morning before class he had asked Quintin to stay in the room just to make sure that if Ira did get to a point where she snapped there would be at least be someone there to stop her from killing him.

He was with her now, once again seated in the center of the room and trying over and over to get the spell right. The memorial was later tonight and Virgil's grandfather had told him that if he didn't learn the spell Ira had given him by the time today's class was over then the deal was off and Remus and Dee wouldn't be allowed to attend. It was probably the only reason he was actually trying (unlike the first day where he had done everything in his power to not summon black magic)

Ira sighed as he once again flubbed the spell, "It isn't that difficult Virgil," she growled as she rubbed at her temples, "It's just a spell to open up that sort of magic, you should have been able to do it on the first day."

'Spells aren't easy for me-'

"Stop with the signing," Ira commanded, Virgil flinched and let his hands drop back into his lap.

"Perhaps," Quintin began as he took a step away from the wall and further into the room, one hand slightly outstretched, "That is enough practice for today, after all, the Prince still has to prepare for-"

"No!" Ira shouted, "I'm tired of waiting! I've been waiting for years now! And when we finally catch you I'm supposed to find that you can't even do the easiest of black magic spells? Well, I'm sick of it, I'll just take matters into my own hands." Virgil didn't even have time to blink, let alone dodge before Ira raised her arm and threw a glowing blue orb at him.

He was surprised, however, to find that whatever spell had been thrown at him had no painful effect. He sat there for a moment, with confusion written on his face, he sat there staring at his hands and the area the spell had hit just waiting for something to happen. After a minute where nothing did, he looked up at Ira who just had an all but cruel grin on her face.

'What was that?' Virgil signed worriedly, 'What did you do?'

There was no answer, and this wouldn't be due to a lack of understanding. While Ira wasn't completely fluent, Virgil had learned the other day that she did understand some sign language. Enough for him to ask and answer simple questions. She never replied back in sign language, but for the most part, she understood.

'What did-'

Virgil didn't finish, he couldn't finish. Before he could, his body froze up and both his and Ira's eyes began to glow bright purple. Virgil whimpered as his body began to move on its own accord, it hurt and it hurt bad. He would try to stop himself and the pain would only increase. He would try to pull his limbs back, and it'd become nearly unbearable. Eventually, his hands settled in front of him and started moving and shifting in front of him.

Virgil's eyes widened slightly in realization, Ira had used a mind-control spell on him and was going to force him to do the spell. He wanted to scream about it, no actual words just sound, but when he tried to open his mouth nothing came out except a small minuscule squeak. Ira had to try the spell twice before it worked correctly, a blast of black magic shot from his hands and bounced around the room, the force of it sending him backward and into the loaded bookshelf. About ten or fifteen books tumbled to the ground, several of them hitting and dropping on him.

Virgil curled up slightly and stared down at his hands with wide and worried eyes. The rush of pounding footsteps made him flinch as suddenly Quintin was in front of him and examining him for injuries, prodding at his head and chest and grabbing his arms for inspection. "Gods! Kid, are you okay?"

"You, are dismissed," Ira said as she turned away from them and towards the door. Virgil barely managed a glare in her direction in his dazed state as Quintin helped him to his feet. There had been no hint of any remorse or guilt or regret in Ira's voice as she left the room.

Quintin sighed, "Alright, lets get you checked out by the physician just in case and then get you ready for the memorial, yeah?"

Virgil, of course, said nothing as Quintin put a hand on his shoulder and led him to the small hospital wing that had been set up on a lower floor.

As they walked Virgil became very aware of what had happened. Ira had forced him to use black magic, which would mean it'd be easier to do the spell next time and his biggest excuse would be gone forever. Not only that, but he had been forced to use the magic that had killed his mother, and which had nearly gotten him and his brother killed as well. It was a magic that had killed hundreds, maybe thousands or millions, of people. It was something he had always promised so many people that he would never do. Teachers, parents, family, Janus, even some of the other nobles or royals who would occasionally visit the castle for one reason or another and would somehow end up talking to Virgil about this topic of conversation.

Virgil suddenly froze in his place as a sudden burst of feeling ran through him. He squeezed his eyes closed tight as he wrapped his arms around his stomach just as tight. "Hey, kid," Quintin said as he lightly tapped Virgil's shoulders.

Virgil scowled slightly as he pulled away and took several steps back, eyes still closed, arms still wrapped. 'Prince' His hands signed before flying back to were they were before.

Quintin stared at him with slight confusion, "You okay? Your head hurting? Dizzy or something? Or nauseous?"

Virgil shook his head, then froze, and then nodded wildly.

Quintin rushed him down the hall after that before sending one of the maids for Logan and his grandfather. When they arrived not even Logan could get Virgil to sign or write, and in his 'concern' his grandfather had asked if he'd rather speak to Janus, or Patton, or even Remus. Eventually Virgil just shrugged, gave in, and told them he just wanted rest. The memorial was pushed back and Virgil spent the rest of the night in the cold, dark, hospital wing.