For the last several years, they had shaken their heads, bemoaning the fact that their little brother had not understood his place, that his duty for the family was to be a link between them and another, a pact sealed in marriage. The fact he was so bound hardly excused his behaviour, his seeking to avoid it. And in truth, while it had been somewhat cute and endearing at one point, it had long grown stale as the family had discussed the means by which his behaviour could be corrected. If it could be at all.

It was a shame, more than one of the aunts said, that he had not been born a woman, cursed with the weakness of his masculine nature. That, and the fact that some of his ideas were somewhat insane. Potent, but insane to the point where the traditional means of correction for a rowdy young man, of being a part of the general intake at the Royal Military Academy was pondered as perhaps being a touch too risky. In no small part because they would need to take the mana suppressants off and he would have access to knives once more.

Because trying to carve runes into his own skin and flesh? That would have detracted from his looks, even if the fact that he could not be properly trained to use his reserves of mana? Once mother, their mother cursed the Goddess that the strongest of her children, who could have been a once in a generation prodigy... had to have been born male, that talent going to complete and utter waste. That he was rebellious had been even more of a waste, as they could not salvage it! That he leaned so often into self-mutilation was the final straw.

They had looked over his notes, before they started to need to take anything he could use to carve, to brand or shape the words. She had not seen him in some time, and yet... she looked to where he was. Or at least, where she assumed he was. Because even suppressed, even bound with the finest chains to bind all of his mana into himself, it still leaked, it was still a furnace that roared with each breath. Except it was diffuse now, as everyone was sure that another attempt at something was in the works, that he had found some way around the bindings and wards.

But, inside of his rooms, there was little he could do, even as she looked at her closest friend, that would become a sister to her in truth soon enough. "I do not think mother will let him go to the academy Y'sherra." There was a frown on her friends face, as she sipped the tea, an unspoken question that she was going to do her best to answer. "He is being a touch rebellious, and while yes, the academy would probably help with the issue of discipline, it would also give him access to more detailed information, and given what he has accomplished so far..."

She frowns, as she is aware part of why they had to pry him from the library. It sat poorly to her that they needed to stop him from reading, as he drew conclusions and proceeded to test them, shattering common sense when they worked. When he started to go down dangerous paths that were not suited for a male of his station. But, her friend frowned, opening her mouth, even as a servant, pale faced, stepped in. "Lady Willow? It is your brother, he is... his rooms are on fire."

Now that was... Willow sighed, as Y'sherra's wide widened, leaping up with the grace of her elven blood. But there was an important question to ask. "And what is he doing?" Because of course there were going to be monitoring charms in his room (no, it was not really a cell) after some of his hair brained ideas. That, and he never complained, never seemed to even notice as each luxury was stripped away, as each right was taken. No, he had only merely kept focusing inwards, into his magic.

Which of course is when the first pulse strikes the room, rattling their core and senses, poor Y'sheera falling to her knees. "Ah, sitting in the middle of it all mistress, skin cracked open but not bleeding, lights clear through the cracks in his flesh." Now that? That was different, and worrying;. But there were a few questions to ask, even as her elven friend looked up, shocked and mildly horrified at the tone her intended was being spoken in.

"That is new. Is he missing an eye? No attempts to hang himself? Orchids dragon isn't trying to claw its way into his rooms again?" She would worry about the minor things later, but... it already seemed that he was making a terrible impression, even without actually meeting the woman. Yet, she licked her lips, tasting the flavor of the next pulse of magic, at the fact that somehow, there was an archmage level work being done as far as power was concerned, but with none of the control. But, her eyes narrowed. "And find out how he got his hands on an alchemy book."

Was it sad she could literally taste the transformative magic in the air, as she opened the door to her brothers rooms, Y'sherra standing behind her, as she started to pant. Because those were not flames. That was externally expressed mana because his restraints had melted into slag, heat radiating off him as he sat in the middle of the room, no transmutation array visible. She quickly thought through some of what he used to say, before he went silent, unspeaking two years ago.

Her eyes sharpened, as she looked at the cells of his body, as she beheld the arrays and mandalas burnt into his own body on a level that made her head hurt. "Brother, what are you doing." Because she only recognized a handful of those symbols. Eyes opened.

And she was sure he spoke, as her head throbbed, as she for some reason understood that matter, energy and information were the same thing, but that he was merely looking into his soul. One of the topics that mother had not wanted him to be looking into, because. "You are trying to get yourself killed." It was a shock, it was a horrible revelation, that he was so far into rebellion that he accepted death with an amused glance.

He 'spoke' again, as her mother and aunts needed to drag her away, as she and Y'sherra were hanging onto consciousness by a thread. Her little brother was not a once in a generation genius, not some eager and happy boy content to read the approved books and publish his findings under his wifes name. Physical death, to him? What was the body, but a shell for his soul to inhabit? One that he was mapping and burning a template into one of his countless partitions.

In a very real way, as she babbled out things, concepts of the body, mind and soul as the fever took her, none of the measures they had taken had really slowed him down, merely made him change his approach. She laughed and laughed, until unconscious took her.

Authors Notes

So, seen some Reverse Sexual Morality stories of late... just an idea of someone 'rebelling' a little and doing some funky magical things. As a side note... his family HAS considered just consigning him to a cell/monastery/brothel... except his 'rooms' are already practically a monks bare cell already and his mother does not want him to 'win.'

In no small part because magical power CAN be inherited, and as said, due to how things work in the world, they curse he was born male. Sure, it will secure a powerful marriage alliance if anyone is willing to take him, but he has gained a reputation for instability. A bomb in some respects.

Also, if you happen to notice similarities to Sexy Steampunk Babes? That is where I got some of the inspiration from