His Darling Shadow || Elvira the Courtier
Based on @drakonishe‘s Courtier Swap AU
She had pledged her fealty to the magician long ago.
How long ago, nobody seemed to know. She was his “dearest shadow.” That’s what Court Magician Asra likes to call her, while clutching her chin tightly between his lithe fingers. There was no real affection behind it. The magician didn’t seem capable of such a thing. His tone was always too cool and his eyes betrayed a glimmer of emotion that was hard to place. But, he would grin at her the same way he did when he would see his cobra with her jaws wide open, poised to devour her latest prey.
Lady Elvira is one of his favorite pets, or so he likes to say. It’s uncommon to see one without the other. Wherever the magician walks, Lady Elvira follows close behind obediently, like a dog at the heels of her master. They are the types of people who’s eyes you can feel when they are looking at you. Their gazes are heavy, the magician’s with sadistic curiosity and the lady’s with intense, burning disregard. He whispers things into her ear in the presence of company and she responds simply and concisely. She is never verbose, never outwardly emotional in his presence, and hardly, if ever, speaks out of turn. She knew better than to do so.
It is said that she hadn’t been the same since the tragic passing of her parents. Or, at least, that is what could be heard from some of the whispers around Vesuvia. Other, less kind ones bear theories of how she was the cause of the deaths of the Lord and Lady. “Her aunt died mysteriously some years after them as well, didn’t she? That’s far from any coincidence”, they say. “She is the last of the Casimiro line. Who’s to say that isn’t on purpose?” Of course, anyone who hasn’t met Lady Elvira firsthand would scoff at these queries, thinking they were the product of baseless gossip. She is likely no more than a snide aristocrat, just like all of the other Vesuvian bluebloods. However, those who’ve been unfortunate enough to have looked into her eyes know all too well. They are dark and hollow, yet there is a burning behind them. They betrayed her temperament and gave a warning to all who came near: you are beneath me and I can dispatch you without remorse.
Like she had done it before. Like she would do it again.
“Beware the ‘Lady in Black’.” It is one of the first things mentioned to any newcomer to the palace after being warned about the magician. She hardly seemed like a threat on her own. She wasn’t known to make a move unless the magician commanded her to. But, make no mistake, crossing her was not without danger. For if she ever expressed her displeasure to the magician, there was no telling what could happen. She was his treasured pet, the dog at his heels, his dearest shadow. If she was displeased, then so was he. And there was no pleading with the magician when he was displeased. If the magician ever expressed the origin of his own displeasure to Lady Elvira, she flared up as quick as a brushfire and attacked unflinchingly. It was a courtesy, a mercy. For when the magician dealt with those who crossed him himself, people wound up missing. They are a double-headed serpent, the magician and his shadow. If one doesn’t swallow you whole, it is only a matter of time before the other does.
Beware Court Magician Asra.
Beware Lady Elvira.
Don’t look them in the eyes. Don’t turn your back on them. And don’t ever, ever find yourself alone with them. The magician calls the shots and, at his command, his darling shadow will be the last thing you’ll see before the world goes black.