#and Dream gives like anothe rof his names

[dyketectivecomics]

What was Zach’s favorite thing to do with his uncle

The young magician’s fingers danced across the keys, a simple scale and then a sure transition into a familiar tune. He hummed along, singing a few low words in the tune without much thought. Zach reminisced for a moment, nostalgic as he recalled the first time practicing music with his Uncle John...

 “Zataras are performers,” he had said, leading the boy into a parlor room where a baby grand piano awaited them, “Magicians, actors, musicians. Name a field of the performing arts and a Zatara has made his mark there!”

“Uncle John, I already know I want to be a magician-” the ten-year-old had protested, only to have the old man holding up a finger to silence him.

“Before you throw everything you have into the art of prestidigitation, you must be sure that it is all you truly desire.” He smiled, lifting the lid that protected the keys before settling in his seat, playing a quick scale and a familiar song that slowly morphed into something else. “I signed Zatanna up for many things before she had convinced me her legerdemain was up to snuff-”

“And all of them made me the performer I am today,” Zatanna interrupted, sauntering into the room with a mug in hand, Zatara still continuing the lively ragtime tune. “I still use some of the tips my tap dancing instructor gave to keep my footwork in line. And don’t even get me started on the debt we owe those countless voice coaches.”

“And now she can sing like a canary-!”

“Don’t let Dinah hear you say that-”

“I still don’t see why learning to play the piano helps,” Zachary pouted, arms crossing over his chest, “It takes up time I could be using for practicing illusions.”

“One word, Zachary,” Giovanni smiled, a twinkle in his eye, “Marketability.”

“Okay,” Zach sighed, “And what does that mean exactly?”

“It means, you’ll be a cut above other magicians, you dope,” Zatanna explained, rolling her eyes before taking a sip from her mug, “Honing other talents means you can vary your performance. You can offer an experience that other magicians can’t. Anyone can go see a magic show, Zach. Not everyone will see a show like a Zatara show.”

“So it’s a gimmick,” Zach guessed, only for his cousin to groan. 

“I give up. You’re on your own, dad.” And with that she left, clearly heading for the kitchen.

“A gimmick is what we save for themed shows,” Zatara laughed, he changed the tune now, something more ominous and haunting building in the music, “A Hallow’s Eve Spectacular featuring death-defying illusions. A Solstice Celebration with a seasonal motif-”

“A Father-Daughter Duo with witty banter to back them up?” Zach guessed.

“Might need a little workshopping,” he laughed, “But precisely! A gimmick is something you save for special occasions. Singing, dancing, and playing music for your audience, however-”

“Those are things people go to concerts for, Uncle John. Not magic shows-”

“That’s where you’re wrong, my young pupil,” he smiled, “They’re part of the reason people keep coming back to a Zatara show.”

He finished the tune, launching right into another and singing along. As he reached the chorus, he nodded to his nephew.

“You know the words, gnis! GNIS ROF EM.”

Zach didn’t even bother fighting the compulsion, closing his eyes and getting lost in the sound of his own voice in perfect harmony with the music his uncle made.

And when he opened them again, he took a step back.

They were no longer in one of Shadowcrest’s many parlors, but instead occupied the middle of one of the Monarch Theatre’s smaller stages.

“Why-”

“Because before you dream too big, Zachary, you must learn to start small,” Giovanni sighed. “This exact stage was where I first started in Gotham. It is where Zatanna first cut her teeth. And if you study well, it is where you can continue to carry on our family legacy. But first-”

A wave of his hand and a whispered spell, and the dimly-lit stage and dark rows of seating before them faded back into the bright sitting room again. He stood from the piano and gestured for Zach to take the seat.

“You must learn, and practice. And become a well-rounded person outside of your illusionism.”

Zach took the seat immediately.

“Okay, where do my fingers go…”

[dork-empress]

Magic Baby 3

part of my ‘another 100 dragon prince aus’ oneshot collection

Read on Ao3

Callum has known a normal life, or, as normal as a prince can. He and Rayla are transporting Zym through Xadia, when they're followed by a mysterious stranger.

If you don't remember what happened with the other Magic Baby shorts, you may want to read those for the ending to make sense.

“So, I know our mission here is important, fate of the world, got it, but what if we take a little detour to the other magic nexus’s. Nexi? Whatever, what do you think?” Callum asked, ready to fight.

“Uh-huh,” Rayla said.

“Wait, really?” Callum said, smiling brightly, “I mean, I’ve got the wind magic and I’m pretty good at these illusions,” he tapped the fake horns on his head that made him look like another moonshadow elf, “But maybe we can travel to the sun nexus? I’d really like to learn some of that fire magic.”

“Sure, sounds good,” Rayla said with no emotion to her voice.

Callum looked over at her, “You’re not listening are you?” She didn’t respond. “I could say anything. We should get matching shirts. And a theme song! Callum and his trusty sidekick Rayla--”

“Callum, someone’s following us.” Rayla cut him off.

Callum, because that was the guy he was, immediately whipped around to try and see some obvious stalker. Luckily he was walking with Rayla who grabbed him before he could be any more obvious. “Don’t look!” She hissed, “It’s a cloaked figure, they’ve stayed with us for the past three turns and always keeping their distance to the same interval.”

Callum swallowed, quickly getting pulled out of his ‘fun exploration of Xadian town’ mode right back into the quickly more comfortable ‘We’re in danger’ mode. “What do we do?” he asked.

Rayla’s brain seemed to be cycling over that same question. “We’ll split at that next corner. You go right, I’ll go left. Give me the bag, I’ll take Zym with me. If they’re after him, they’ll follow me. If they’ve seen through your disguise, they’ll follow you.”

“And what do I do if they follow me?!” Callum whispered, distressed.

“Then protect yourself until I get there!” Rayla said, “Honestly, this isn’t our first pegasus show, MAGE.”

“A what show--?”

But they’d already reached the corner. Rayla snatched the bag from him and was walking left. Callum tossed a look over his shoulder, and saw a cloaked figure before going right.

This was the wrong decision. Going left led him to a more deserted area of town. He walked aimlessly, in search of people, a way to cut back into the rest of town, but he only got more lost. He caught the cloaked figure in his peripherals multiple times, and tried to get away from them, but he felt the further he went that he was being herded.

At last he was cornered in a dead end. He head the loud sounds of people on the wall just behind him, but he had no way of getting to them.

Slowly, he turned around. The cloaked figure was silhouetted in the mouth of the alley. “Stay back,” He said raising his hands, “I know magic! Don’t test me!”

“Sterces rou rof ycavirp su evig.” The figure said, a feminine voice low and raspy. Her hands glowed purple and the sounds from the street died away, leaving only the pair of them.

Callum swallowed, “That was dark magic,” He said, “But...you didn’t kill anything.”

“I’ve had nearly a thousand years to perfect my magic,” She said, “I’ve tried to watch over you in that time...but if I stay anywhere too long, the dragons may find me.”

Callum frowned, “A thousand….I’m fourteen!”

“Fourteen years since your birth from the woman who found you and carried you. Fourteen years of memories to grow and change. But nearly a thousand years since your conception, and just short of that until I helped make you what you are, Prince Callum of Katolis.”

Callum jerked back, up against the wall. “How do you know me?”

The woman pulled her hood back, an elven illusion dissolving to reveal her human form, with hair as black as night, and a face...a face like his. “My mentor, Aaravos, dreamed of equal footing for the races. Humans were outmatched without magic, so he sought to recreate the species and give us the ability the dragons had originally denied us. You were the first, and only, creation of that new form of magic.” She smiled, “He and I took your egg from your parent’s nest, and I gave you my blood,” She swallowed, looking almost nervous as she stepped forward, “In some ways, I am your mother.”

It was too much to take in, like trying to wrap your arms around a tree that was simply too wide. “Who are you?” he demanded.

“I am Elarion,” she said, smiling, “And your name, your true name, is Asermatre, the first son of the Dragon King, and the Crown Dragon Prince.”