The Wizard and the Void - Chapter Twelve

Author: Milady Dragon

Phil left Clint in the kitchen, taking a deep breath as he headed up the staircase toward his rooms at the top of the Keep, Lola taking the quick route and flying up through the center of the stairwell.

He decided to do the same thing, using a personal Levitation spell to launch himself aloft.

It had been…nice, to eat together. Plus, Clint hadn't actually punched him yet, which he thought was a good thing even if the Elf claimed to still be considering it. To be honest, the Wizard would have accepted it, realizing now that he'd been in the wrong in keeping his survival a secret. He'd missed Clint, even though he hadn't even admitted it to himself. Hopefully, when everything was cleared up with Hydra, they could get to know each other once more.

His suite was near the top of the Keep's main tower, the only room higher was the attempt at building an observatory that had fallen by the wayside during the original repairs to the Keep. This place was his sanctuary; not even Daisy came up this far unless she absolutely needed to, now that she was old enough to be self-sufficient. He'd loved the views from there, from the moment he'd taken possession of the Keep; the windows had been broken until the glazier had replaced them, but Phil hadn't cared. The surrounding mountains, often clad in white mist, were more than worth the cost of the new windows.

The first room was his sitting room, although he never entertained there. It was more a second study than anything else, his more precious belongings on the shelves, priceless books and scrolls he'd managed to collect despite his very destructive nature in his younger days. There was even a shield that was rumored to have belonged to Sir Steven Rogers, hanging in pride of place over the immense fireplace. Phil wasn't certain if the stories were true, although the shield was certainly old enough, and it had once been vibrantly painted with the Paladin's crest, the North Star.

He bypassed this room, making his way into the bedroom just beyond. He often teased Marcus about being a hedonist, but to he fair he really didn't have a right to do it. His own bed was large, the mattress stuffed with the finest down, stacked with pillows and a deep blue comforter that kept the chill out at night, when the mountains grew almost too cold for the fireplace to keep the room warm. In the depths of winter, that happened more often than not, and the Void Wizard didn't often bother to cast spells to heat the place. He'd slept in colder conditions, when he'd been out on the road.

If he was honest with himself, it was those times when he wished for a bed partner. However, Phil hadn't gone out to search for one.

A stray thought had him wondering what Clint would look like in that very large bed.

Shaking his head, Phil headed over to his spacious wardrobe. Once he'd 'retired' from attempting to destroy the world – a goal he'd never really had the chance to reach, nor the inclination, if truth be told – he'd discovered a love for nice suits, and had spent a fair amount of the ill-gotten wealth he'd accrued in filling his wardrobe. It didn't really matter all that much; he didn't leave Shield Keep that often, but the rich fabrics made him feel a little less like a pretender to propriety and more like he was actually belonged in the world instead of apart from it.

However, in the back of the wardrobe, was one item of clothing he should have gotten rid of ages ago.

Phil pulled the uniform – because, that was what it was, the uniform of the Dark One – out of the wardrobe, laying it on the bed. It was like looking into the past, and he had to shake his head again to ward off the memories that were threatening to surface.

The black leather of the long, sleeveless overtunic still held the spells he'd laced within the very material. Protection. Shielding. Impenetrability…although that last one had come after Loki had stabbed him, and had been a lucky find within a half-destroyed library in the same town he'd rescued Daisy from.

Phil had some doubt that much of the magic he'd had access to at the time would have blocked that cursed spear Loki had been wielding.

No, he couldn't think along those lines. It would throw him off his game, so to speak.

The shirt underneath the long tunic was also black, golden embroidery at the open collar and the cuffs that would cinch tightly around his wrists, whorls of magical writing weaving yet even more spells. More Protection, although these were not against bodily harm. These were to protect his mind, and his soul, from various sorts of curses that might be thrown at him. There was also another, more specialized sort of Shield, those threads silver and blue along the left cuff, blending in with the gold.

The trousers were also leather, and held even more magic, much along the lines as the rest of his costume. A black leather belt and boots joined everything else. And Phil had to take a deep breath before beginning to dress himself once more in the trappings of a past he sincerely wished he could forget.

He was disappointed that it still fit.

Once everything was settled properly, the Void Wizard stood in front of the full-length mirror, examining everything minutely, including the magic. He knew he had to make a statement, that everything about him had to show that he was still the powerful, arrogant Wizard who'd earned such a vile nickname as the Dark One. The magic signatures wrapped around him had to be overt, to warn anyone who wanted to challenge him that he was still at the height of his power, and that to fight him was to court death.

The man looking back at him out of the glass wasn't Phil Coulson.

It was the Dark One.

He absolutely hated it.

His face was pale, but that wasn't surprising. He didn't get out in the sun all that often, preferring to stay within the Keep, to read or study or to cast his spells in peace. The sheer blackness of his clothing made his eyes seem darker, his cheekbones a little bit more pronounced and his jawline a bit strong. It didn't do a thing about his receding hairline, but nothing could fix that.

He straightened the holster for his wand, getting to set a little more comfortably at his waist. His personal dagger was in its own sheath on the opposite side, the black horn of the hilt fading into the background his clothing created, only the silver strip of the cross hilt visible.

Lola, who had jumped up onto the bed, let out a sad coo, her emotions strong, and it was like she was in mourning for their current lives.

They could go back to being themselves soon enough. They just had to find out what Hydra was up to, and then they could return home.

And, perhaps, Clint would like to come along, as well. Or maybe it was too soon for that.

There were a few more things he needed to do, and then he could head down to meet Clint in the casting chamber.

He moved to the shorter armoire that sat next to the wardrobe. It was made up of ten thin drawers on sturdy legs, each one warded even though no one came into his room, and a mirror sat on top. The mirror was his speaking mirror, but it doubled as a regular mirror, when he needed such a thing in his bedroom. It was in a plain wooden frame, matching both the armoire and the larger wardrobe, a rich dark cherry that gleamed in the light from the window.

With a wave of his hand, Phil lit the glowglobe on the wall just over the mirror, wanting the illumination as he examined the contents of the armoire.

Every Wizard enchanted small items for personal use. This armoire held those items for Phil.

Usually, it was jewelry that was bespelled. And yes, the Void Wizard did have a couple of rings and pendants, but gems and precious metals weren't things he was personally interested in. What he enjoyed using were plain, everyday objects, that a person wouldn't give two glances at…unlike a showy trinket or bauble, and were less likely to be the target of someone who thought that stealing from a Wizard was a really good idea.

There were a matching pair of daggers, which he slid into the tops of his highly polished boots. No one would really look twice at extra weaponry.

A pair of silver-rimmed glasses in a wooden case went into a pouch on his belt, along with a fountain pen that most would simply assume that he'd enchanted to be ever-filling…which he had, but that wasn't the extent of the spells on it. A set of lockpicks in a slim felt pouch slid into a back trouser pocket.

He did choose a single ring, more of a blind than anything else. Yes, it had a couple of useful spells on it, but it wasn't the most important thing he was going to be carrying.

That was the wide, leather bracer that he slid onto his left arm.

Phil had created it himself, using half-remembered skills from his time as a Novice under Mistress Suzie. He'd had to have specially made leatherworking tools, but the time it had taken to make it and the cost of the tools had been more than worth it.

Once he'd buttoned the shirt cuff, no one could even tell he was wearing it; one of the spells on that cuff actually masked the presence of the bracer's magic. He rubbed the bracer through his shirt, taking comfort in it being there.

Phil took a deep breath, in order to at least try and settle his nerves. He was about to do something that he'd sworn he never would: become the one thing he never wanted to become again. He just wanted to be Master Phil Coulson, Void Wizard, and the best father he could be to Daisy. He wanted to live in peace, to not be bothered by the past he was now deeply ashamed of.

Still, there was nothing for it. They needed to know what this rogue group of Voids was up to. He was in the unique position to discover just what that was.

There was no way they could succeed in what they were planning, if Garrett had been correct.

Taking another deep breath, the Wizard left his bedroom, heading back toward the stairs that wound through the center of the Keep. Deciding to take the short cut going down as well, he stepped off the landing and into the stairwell, letting his power support him as he floated down toward the ground floor, Lola calling out in delight that he was flying with her.

Melinda was waiting for him when his feet touched down lightly. "Show off," she said, deadpan.

"We're on a time limit," he explained.

"Barton's down in the casting chamber. I let him in myself."

"Thank you for that." His eyes met hers. "Melinda, if something should happen…"

"If something should happen," she intoned, "I'll be coming to get your sorry ass out of whatever mess it ends up being in."

Phil shook his head ruefully. "Melinda…"

Her eyes turned fond. "Phil, you need to be careful. I'm not about to take any last words to Daisy."

"Just…look after things while I'm gone." It wasn't what he'd wanted to say, but she'd only refuse to hear it.

"We will."

Surprised, Phil turned toward the deep voice. "Thank you, Andrew," he said sincerely.

While he hadn't met Andrew before his change, the Wizard could see a bit beyond the man's current grotesque appearance to the once-handsome teacher underneath. He'd been well-built and tall, with a solid facial bone structure and brown eyes.

Now, Andrew Garner was changed in ways that made it obvious that he wasn't human any longer. His skin was gray, as if he was a corpse, and bulked out beyond what even a trained knight would be. On his misshapen head snakes writhed, hissing slightly as they waved to and fro. His chest was bare, as were his feet, but the trousers he was wearing were strained near to tearing by thighs like tree trunks.

Lola, though, wasn't put off by Andrew's appearance. She darted right up to him, demanding attention, and the rusty laugh that the cursed man gave as he knelt down and scratched her head with blunt fingers was very good to hear.

"We should be going," he said, hating to break up the moment, but time was getting late and, while he knew that being 'fashionably late' was often a tactic used in power plays, he didn't want to tip his hand that way. Being right on time would be the best thing in this circumstance, since he wanted them to think he was amenable to their overtures. Taking Clint, when practically ordered to come alone, would be enough bucking authority at this point.

Lola cooed at Andrew, then came back to Phil's side. "Hopefully, we'll be back soon."

"You'd better be," Melinda warned, "because I don't want to have to chase you down and rescue you. Barton had better watch your back, Phil, or I'll kick his ass from here to Triskelia Town."

Phil had to laugh. "I'll make sure he knows that."

"You do that."

The Wizard dropped a hand to his dragon's head, taking comfort in her presence, both physical and mental, her love for him flowing through their link. He sent his own feelings back to her, and she leaned against him, making a pleased noise at his attention.

"Come on, girl," he urged. "Let's go and get this done."

Getting Lola's agreement, Phil headed toward his casting chamber, where Clint awaited.