Synopsis: So many people at the academy were loud, doing their best to take up space and be seen, or even just teenagers unaware of just how much space their energy can take. Not you - you’d always been quiet, so you’d gone largely under the radar until your final year. Now? You’ve caught the attention of someone you’d never have expected.
Tags/Warnings: Julius x GN!Reader, fluff, artsy!reader, Julius is Like That sorry, set during the events of S1, spoilers for the Grand Festival, cuddling, character injury (not reader)
Word Count: 4,281
The academy was the place where everyone who was anyone attended, training as mages and aiming to ascend to the heights of the tower, becoming high mages, and for some even members of the magia vander. It was a noble pursuit, in your opinion, and much the same as your peers, you wanted to reach the tower after graduation. You’d content yourself with becoming a magical researcher though, leaning more about what magic is capable of, and the monsters that spawn from the dungeon to improve the lives of those around you - including dwarves and non-mages.
That was something that growing up as a commoner granted you, you weren’t as taken by the rhetoric surrounding those who couldn’t use magic. It seemed to be woven into every area of life, particularly in Regarden, with most of your fellow students issuing disdain to the local dwarves living down slumland street. Not to mention, one Will Serfort. You couldn’t say you knew the boy particularly well - he was like you in certain ways, he seemed to keep to himself. Whatever his goals for remaining at the academy through ridicule, abuse from staff, and all the trouble he faced.. you figured it must be a goal worth pursuing. He was strong for persevering despite everything. He had Colette, and you supposed that must be enough for him - and Workner’s perference for him hadn’t gone unnoticed, that certainly had to help.
You on the other hand? There was a few people you’d spend mealtimes with and you could count on when you went into the dungeon to gather your praxis credits. You could call them friends for sure, but you were fairly sure you’d part ways with them once you reached the tower, or if any of you didn’t. Friendship through proximity rather than a real bond between you all. It was a shame for sure, but not something you let bother you, not anymore. You were sure there’d be more people in the dark faction at the tower that you could find friendship with. After all, that was your plan. To the tower, join the dark faction, train as a high mage.
Many of your classmates spent a lot of their downtime researching, practicing, studying - it made sense really, especially with exams so close. Everyone was scrambling for last minute credits, gathering new spells they could use in the all-student praxis at the end of the year, just preparing to leave the academy in general.
You?
You liked to draw.
It was something you’d enjoyed ever since childhood, and your parents had never discouraged you. Some part of them hadn’t truly expected you to get into, and succeed in the academy - you knew that without ever needing to be told - but, you’d done it. It was a fairly useless skill for a mage, but it certainly meant you were less tense than a lot of your fellow students at this time of year. You had a surefire way of relaxing that didn’t involve something dangerous, or sweating. It was preferable, in your opinion.
There was no shortage of muse though, amongst those around you who chose to duel and train and push their limits. In particular, the top students made incredible models. Perfect form, arched bodies, elegant shapes, all effortless. Lihanna, Wignall, Sion - you were even partial to drawing Will, mostly for that sweet, puppy dog look he got sometimes when talking to Colette. But your favourite person to draw, quite annoyingly, was one Julius Reinberg.
He was a complete and utter ass, the worst sort of noble. He was entitled, a snob, but he was also handsome and talented, and all too aware of it. Lihanna and Wignall, the other two members of the top three, at least maintained illusions of prim politeness. Julius had no such intentions - he seemed to effortlessly glide to the top on innate skill, never breaking a sweat, stepping on anyone he needed to in order to reach the heights he planned. He was one of the few students you knew that truly believed he could ascend to the rank of magia vander. It was admirable, despite all his foul traits.
Irritatingly though, he made a fantastic model. His effortless skill, the composure he maintained, that glint he got in his eye right before he did something to inconvenience others. If anyone were to flick through your sketchbook, they might just think you were obsessed.
And you weren’t.. to be clear. Mostly.
But then there was something to be said for assholes, wasn’t there? Just something about them that was charming, stubbornly so, no matter how hard you tried to tell yourself that he wasn’t, that he was the sort of scum who’d spit on you and never think twice about it. Unfortunately, the appeal just wouldn’t fade.
You sat in another class, waiting idly for the professor’s arrival. It was a sort of recap class, covering content from other years at the academy - exam preparation, effectively. You were quite sure you had extensive notes on whatever it was, so you’d already mentally dedicated the session to using your classmates as muses to create more art, with your sketchbook tucked inside your class notebook.
You’d positioned yourself near the back of the classroom, but not quite the back row, after all you wouldn’t be able to see anyone from back there. The classroom was filled with senseless noise, chatter amongst friends, quills idly scratching over paper. You were doodling magic, finishing a sketch you’d started in a spellwork class the day before - several of Julius’ trademark ice roses. Maybe it was the focus on getting the shading right, or the shape, that prevented you from realising that someone was looming over you.
“What’s this?” A smug voice asked. Your muscles wound tight, jaw clenched, eyes widened marginally. No. Absolutely not. Julius was the one looming over you.
“Hm? Oh, I draw.” You replied softly. Much of the classroom around you went quiet as others sensed the disturbance, curious to see just what had caught the young master Reinberg’s attention.
“You draw? Yes, I can see that. But those are mine.” Of course he knew, there was something distinctive about the roses that he created from the tip of his wand, so precise and artistic in their own right that there was no way you could hope to deny it.
“Yeah, I like drawing magic.” It was the best excuse you could come up with under pressure. Your fingers twitched, the urge to close your sketchbook away screaming in your mind, but you were aware it would only make you look more suspicious.
“And mine caught your eye? Well, that’s only natural.” Julius’ smirk was maddening, truly. But your eyes caught his sharp canines, and all you could think was that you needed to draw them more often.
You might be just a little doomed.
“Ice magic is beautiful.” You said, a simple, passive statement that you hoped was believable, because it was true. Of all the magics, ice was often your favourite to draw. Potentially because you almost exclusively drew Julius’ ice magic, but that was neither here nor there.
“Well, continue as you please. I’m happy to inspire the lesser amongst us.” And alright, that stung, but at least he hadn’t flipped out, or tried to see more of your sketchbook.
Blessedly, Julius seemed content with that, and he took his seat beside one of his friends, and struck up a conversation with them. Safe, for now. You knew better than to expect he would leave you alone after that discovery.
The next time Julius stepped into your space was during another practical lesson. You’d been one of the first to demonstrate against the golems, and then had set up at the side with your charcoal and sketchbook pressed against your knees, watching the demonstrations from Lihanna, Wignall and Julius. They were all brilliant, and you’d captured small moments from each of them. But Julius dominated the two page spread as he always did. The way his fingers held his wand, the look in his eyes when he struck, the art of his ice magic curled around the golems.
You’d heard him coming this time, but you didn’t move or look up until he spoke.
“I’m not your only muse then?” He asked. You glanced up, noting that he was smirking slightly, brows raised with calm interest.
“Ah, no. I sketch a lot of people.”
“But mostly me.” Julius said, and it wasn’t a question. After all, the two pages were covered in several of him, studies of different poses and parts of his body, where there was just one Lihanna and one Wignall. Damn.
“You did well today.” You said, rather than directly commenting on his observation.
“I do well every day.” Your gaze returned to the piece you’d been working on then, finishing a few lines to connect everything properly, and sat up straighter to look at the spread properly, scanning each sketch for their faults, and where things could be improved. Julius didn’t speak again for some time, and when he did, he was much closer.
You startled slightly, looking over to notice that he’d crouched down to get a closer look, lips pursed with interest.
“Well, they’re far from perfect,” he started, and again.. ow, “but I suppose it can’t be helped when you’re this far away.” Oh. That was surprisingly understanding, if worded poorly. He wasn’t wrong - details were easier to miss the further you were from the thing you were attempting to draw.
“It can be hard.” You agreed, looking back down at the page. With him this close, you could see that the angle of his nose was off, his fingers not quite right.
“You’ll have to get closer next time.” And then in the next instant, he was standing again, sweeping away to join his friends like he’d never spoken to you at all.
How odd.
With days between each interaction, you were always first left reeling, and then wondering whether it’d truly happened at all. Between each interaction you’d had, he’d gone right back to pretending that you didn’t exist at all. Surely you were misremembering, or simply confusing fantasies with reality?
But then he kept returning, so it must’ve all been real.
The next time he approached you, it was while you were with your friends. You’d decided to take the afternoon off together to just enjoy the sunshine on campus grounds, lounging lazily on the grass together. Julius approached without hesitance, stopping right in front of you.
“You.” He said, eyes fixed squarely on you. Your friends eyes flicked between each other, all attempting to discern whether they were expected to intervene, or if they could just watch the chaos.
“Me.” You replied, because truly.. what else were you supposed to say to that?
“Come with me.”
Oh. What?
“Oh, I was-”
“I didn’t ask what you were doing, I said come with me.” You supposed he wasn’t wrong. You looked at your friends, who all just shrugged. Cowards. You stood, lifting your bag up onto your shoulder as you went.
“Do you have your things?” Julius asked, eyes flicking only briefly down to look at your bag, before they returned to your face.
“My.. oh my sketchbook and charcoal? Yes.” He nodded, then turned on his heel and walked away. You followed shortly after.
He led you away from where you’d been with your friends, back through the academy building, and into another courtyard where his own friends were. Oh, he truly was shameless, wasn’t he? Once he was back in their vicinity, he struck up a conversation, as if you weren’t there at all. Like he assumed you’d know what it was he wanted from you, and would follow his silent demands.
And granted, you did sort of want to. Stupid Julius. A part of you wanted to just stand and watch, acting as if you didn’t know what he wanted from you, just to make a point of not bending to his will. You were too tired for that after the end of a long week. So, you sat aside on a stone bench and pulled your supplies from your bag.
You started to sketch.
It was easy enough to let your hands lead without too much real thought put into the actions. Your hands often led rather than your brain when you sketched. Sketching Julius was also familiar. You watched as he sat around with his friends, chatting about seemingly nothing in particular, casting a few spells just to show off to them. You were fairly sure they weren’t really friends, not the way other people had friends - they were more-so his lackeys, or his followers. Not that it was any of your business.
Each time Julius changed position, or went to cast a new spell, you put a skeleton of the pose on the page so you wouldn’t lose it, then would go back to fleshing out the drawings that you’d already started. So close to him, it was easier to get the finer details, like the light curl pattern at the ends of his cyan hair, or the way his lashes formed around his eyes. The slope of his nose, and the curve of his cupids bow. Things that were quite easy to let yourself get distracted by.
The sun was beginning to set by the time Julius stood, and he’d turned to face you, as if expecting something. You lifted your sketchbook and turned it for him to see.
“Better.” He said, inspecting each sketch with slightly narrowed eyes, looking for imperfections. “Not quite as perfect as the real thing.. but better.” And that seemed to be all he was prepared to deign you with, because then he was gone.
It started a sort of routine. The sort you never would’ve expected him to the one to initiate. If Julius planned on doing spell-work out of class, he made sure to find you and bring you along; if he was to demonstrate in class, he made sure that you were watching first; and on weekends he would steal you away from your friends so you could just sit in his vicinity and sketch him. He seemed to take some sort of pride in being ‘your muse’, and watching your sketches improve with time, slightly more accurate with each iteration. You weren’t complaining too much, it was quite good practice.
The Grand Festival had arrived before you knew it. The morning’s events had passed without much fanfare, and you’d felt you’d made a good demonstration of what you were capable of in the magic craft event, and for the afternoon you would take a spot in the stands to watch the crown attack. Everyone high in the ranks was competing, so you knew it’d be a good show.
Julius found you before you could disappear up one of the staircases into the stands, slender fingers wrapped around your wrist.
“I hope your participation in magic craft this morning hasn’t swept away your attention to detail.” He remarked.
“You watched me partake?” You asked, brows raised slightly with surprise.
“My spot in the rankings is secure, but I’d be a fool not to at least take note of the other mages around me,” ah, of course, he’d not really been watching you, just another observer, “but that’s not important right now.”
“What did you need?”
“I expect this event to be quite the show for me - I hope you’ll have charcoal in hand.” You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting really, of course he wanted you to be drawing.
“I’ll get your best angles.” You replied, containing the sigh you wanted to let out. You’d been looking forward to just enjoying the event, but you supposed now you’d need to make sure you at least got something of Julius.
“You don’t seem as enthused as usual.” He remarked, eyes narrowed.
“It’s been a long morning, is all.” You didn’t bother mentioning that you didn’t think you’d been scouted based on your performance, or that you’d not had the opportunities you thought you might to show off, or that you just wanted to quietly watch and stew on both those things.
“Well, I expect to hear you cheering when I reach the stadium.” He squeezed your wrist lightly, then he turned to leave as he always did. Dramatically, academy cloak fluttering.
Sure. Okay. You could do that.
So, you did. And, despite your earlier reluctance, you had to admit that Julius gave you plenty of opportunities to capture him in ways you never had. He was brilliant, and he looked it. You’d probably have ended up sketching him even if he’d not asked, despite your original plan to just observe. Damn him and his handsome face.
Your heart near stopped when you realised he was going to attack Will. Then Sion turned on Will, his own teammate, and Julius was trapped with Colette and- everything was a mess. You could hardly keep up at all.
It wasn’t until Mike announced that Julius was, in fact, inside the stadium that you understood. Ars Weiss. A spell allowing him to clone himself.
Brilliant. He really was brilliant.
You cheered his name with a grin, and you caught his eye as he glanced up into the stands only briefly. It almost felt as if he’d looked up just to find you, to ensure you were cheering for him as he’d asked. The moment didn’t last long, but it was long enough to make something inside you flutter. Stupid feelings.
And it all went down hill from there. One moment he’d been about to claim the crown for himself, because it certainly wasn’t for his team, and the next? Will had him on his ass. You couldn’t help being just a little proud of Will, because he was brilliant too in his own way.. but shit. He looked brutalised.
Wignall claimed the crown in the end with that trademark polite smile. You’d rushed down from the stands by then, taking the steps two at a time, almost falling in the process. Julius. It was the only thought on your mind. You had no idea what you’d do when you reached him, but you couldn’t just sit and do nothing.
It wasn’t until he was already up in the infirmary that you were allowed to see him. Mostly patched up, but regaining his energy after the huge toll using ars weiss had taken on him. You slipped quietly into the infirmary room, not wanting to disturb him if you could help it, and he looked so peaceful. You gently lowered yourself into the seat beside his bed, sketchbook in your lap. He was asleep - so you continued sketching. It was quiet, the only real sound in the room the sound of both your breathing, and that was enough to make the lack of real sound less suffocating, enough for you to focus and finish all the half-baked sketches you’d started during the crown attack.
When he came to, you didn’t notice at first, not until he coughed. Your eyes met his, and you had the feeling he’d already been watching you for some time.
“How are you feeling?” You asked, then winced because really, that was probably a foolish question.
“Let me see.” He demanded rather than answering, lifting a slightly shaking hand to ask for your sketchbook without words. You didn’t think about it as you handed it over.
Not until Julius was pushing to sit more upright, and the sketchbook hit his blankets. Losing the page. When he picked it up, it revealed a new page, one he’d never seen. One of him.
You sat, dread pooling in your gut as he flicked through more and more pages, taking in all the things you’d drawn that you’d never shown him, things from before he’d noticed your habit of drawing him that first time. He’d joked more than once about you being his admirer, but you could tell he hadn’t truly believed it. Not until now.
“These are..” he paused, finally landing on the page from today. Him, looking intimidating and capable from the crown attack. You’d like to think you’d perfected the slight upturn of his lips, the small scrunch of his nose. You’d been studying after all, on his instruction.
“I’ll.. go.” You mumbled, reaching to take your sketchbook back, but Julius held it out of your grip. His eyes flicked up to find yours, like he was looking for something on your face that he hadn’t discerned just yet.
“How long have you been doing this?” He demanded, but you suspected his voice didn’t come out quite as stern as he’d intended.
“A while,” you’d known before you’d said it that ‘a while’ wouldn’t be enough, “a few years.”
Years. The word felt heavy.
“I suppose I was right all along then, you are an admirer of mine.” You didn’t really know how to respond to that. You cleared your throat softly, lowering back down into the chair beside his bed. Your hands folded in your lap, and you kept your eyes down as you braced for what came next - no doubt some sort of perfectly crafted insult that would hit you where it would hurt most. That was Julius, after all.
But it didn’t come.
You chanced a look up at him beside you, and instead he looked almost.. in awe. He was flicking back through the sketches.
“These..”
“All from this year.”
“The others?”
“My dorm.”
Julius turned to meet your eyes then.
“Show me.” He demanded, but not in the way he usually demanded things. Softer.
“What?”
“I want to see them. All of them.”
“Oh you don’t. They’re not going to get any better by going backwards.”
“I want to see them anyway.” You’d never heard Julius Reinberg sound earnest before.
So you stood, slowly, and brushed your hands off, slightly clammy.
“You’re coming back, aren’t you?” He asked, stopping just short of reaching for you, like he’d almost stopped you from leaving despite what he’d asked for.
“I’m coming back.”
And you did. You sat on the edge of Julius’ infirmary bed while he looked through each sketchbook in turn. He’d started with the oldest one, and watched as over time your sketches became less varied. Sketches of other students remained rudimentary, details wrong, but the ones of him only improved. Other students slowly disappeared, until it left only Wignall, Lihanna, Sion, Will and Julius himself, more than any of the others.
He finished back on the page from today, and his thumb traced over a charcoal line across the page, one that shouldn’t be there.
“Your hands are steady, you never make mistakes like this.” He observed, attempting to remain neutral.
“Oh. I panicked when..” you trailed off, not really wanting to bring it up. He heard the words anyway. When you’d realised that Will was going to win.
“I shoved everything into my bag and rushed out of the stands. Drawing stopped being important when the dust cleared and you were down.”
Neither of you spoke for some time after that, Julius absently running his thumb over a blank spot on the page.
“You rushed to me.” He mumbled, eyes fixed on the page. You couldn’t begin to guess what was going through his mind, but it was obvious he was thinking deeply about it.
“I did.” The confession felt heavy, but also as if it were a weight off your chest.
“Why?”
Why? When he’d been nothing short of rude, often even cruel. When he’d given you hardly even a moment of his full attention. When he didn’t deserve it.
He didn’t need to say it aloud for you to hear those things in his voice.
“Because I admire you.” It felt like the only fitting response you possibly could’ve given. Slowly, Julius’ hand shifted across the stark white sheets of the infirmary bed, until it found your own. He held it gently, not lacing your fingers together, but turning your hand palm up.
Callouses from handling your wand, charcoal smudged over the insides of your fingertips from how you gripped it. He traced a finger around the edge of your palm. You took his hand with your free one, and guided him to lay his flat to be sandwiched between yours.
Nobles were expected not to date, not to be seen sullying their good names and causing mischief. Julius was no exception. You had no doubt he’d never held hands with someone before, never navigated a moment that felt like this. That made something in your chest flutter.
“This is enough.” You assured him, slowly linking your fingers together. He watched the action intently, studying it as he had your various drawings of him through time.
“What if I want more?”
“You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t - you always want the most.” It was true enough and you both knew it. The strongest magic, the highest position, the most out of every moment.
“Then come closer.”
He didn’t kiss you, that was sort of what you’d been expecting. Julius Reinberg never did the expected, though. Instead, he pulled you into his side and simply had you lay beside him. Both on your sides, faces inches apart and breathing each others air, your fingers linked between your bodies.
He was right. This was more, and it was better.
“If I must.. I suppose I admire you as well.” He offered softly after a moment. “They finally look like me.” This time, you laughed, and judging by the look on Julius’ face? He liked it.
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