Chapter 75: 75__A potion with a twist

Rogan sat stiffly in his armchair, staring miserably at the wall of his library.

There was one on his shoulder.

There was one at his feet. There were two playing Rock, Paper and Scissors on his lap.

There was one here, one there, five there and about hundreds everywhere.

Nauseatingly adorable little *Pixies*!

They were awfully colourful, their little wings flapping so brightly, it nearly blinded him. They flew about with cheerful smiles and rosy cheeks, their voices little more than squeaks as they chatted animatedly amongst themselves! It was like a horror film! It was driving him mad.

They weren’t even afraid of him like ghosts were. Rogan could count them to be one of his greatest archenemies! Damn the things.

The one on his shoulder poked at his cheek and his stomach rolled with disgust. Why? Why had Maia done this?! How could she use her new power of magic so offensively?!

How was this supposed to help her remember him? All it was doing was torturing him to no end.

The library that Rogan proudly kept in stellar condition, with its emerald green and gold colors, the electrifying feel of dark magic in the air and the bone-chilling scent of royal Vampire Sorcerer, it was all forever tainted! Its stain was the rainbow-colored little rug rats flying about all over the place.

They sat on his high shelves and tore through his rare books of spells, despite the pages being larger than them! They sprinkled their fairy dust onto his seer’s crystal ball and rolled it across the library floor like a bowling ball!

Rogan clenched his jaw as, with thrilling screams coming out of it, his sorcerer’s cloak flashed by before him, the tiny pipsqueaks inside it wearing it like a mere musical performance prop!

Never in all his life had Rogan ever felt tears of such miserable frustration prick at his eyeballs.

Still, he sat. A statue, a willing slave to anything Maia wanted done.

She’d given him strict orders to spend time with her forest friends while she readied herself to tell him what she thought would help her remember him.

Rogan hadn’t thought it was necessary, but then Maia had gone and said that she was now certain she didn’t remember him because she didn’t think she would ever have been with a man who didn’t like pixies.

A sad smile curved Rogan’s mouth as his right eye twitched.

So, of course he had to like pixies. He couldn’t be secretly burning to snap them in half, pull them apart, limb from limb and toss them into his magic cauldron, could he?! Of course not!

“Woah?!” squeaked an orange-haired pixie in excitement, flying in twirls around a rare, clear gold mask Rogan had placed on a pedestal. “This is cool! Look at this, guys!”

More pipsqueaks flew over to the pixie, eyes wide in excitement.

“I wanna try it on!” declared a blue-haired little bugger.

Rogan’s jaw clenched.

“It’s as big as your house, Ephtin!” his friend pointed out.

“So what?”

Rogan heard the fight start, that little bastard Ephtin wanting to use the mask while his friends stopped him. It was a rowdy squabble which was concluded by a final loud crash and the smashing to pieces of one priceless golden mask.

Rogan’s hands stopped gripping his knees and curled into trembling fists.

That mask… had belonged to his mother’s teacher. There were only *two* of its kind! It contained such *power* in it! These little bastards…!

The pixie on his shoulder stopped playing with the feather it had pluck from somewhere and stared wide-eyed at the jutting muscles in Rogan’s jaw as he clenched his teeth tightly.

The door swung open and the room went silent.

The three hundred pixies grinned. “Maia!”

Rogan flinched. It was like one high-pitched squeak when they all spoke in accord.

“Hi, guys!” Maia said happily, walking into the library as the buzz resumed and the pixies carried on with their business.

One look at Rogan had her mouth twitching and her heart burning with satisfaction in revenge.

He sat really still as she approached his chair, his fists on his knees and his back straight.

“Are you alright?” she asked, pumping concern into her voice.

“Maia….” Rogan rasped. “Get…. these fucking insects… out of my house…”

The pixie on his shoulder gasped. “Sir! That is very rude!”

Rogan’s eyes fell closed on a shaky breath of rage.

Slightly alarmed, Maia leaned over and scooped little Tinkie off the Sorcerer’s shoulder before he could get squashed flat by Rogan’s fist.

Unaware of the danger he’d just been saved from, Tinkie stood on her palms with hands on his hips. “I’d like a word with that man!” he squeaked, upset.

Taking the other pixies from Rogan’s lap, Maia put them down and sat Tinkie somewhere he wouldn’t get smoked by a sorcerous fire.

She crossed her arms and looked at Rogan as he struggled to compose himself. “What’s wrong? I thought you liked pixies. You said so.”

Rogan looked at her with a tight smile. “Oh, sure. I do. Love ‘em. I just don’t fancy anyone tearing my books or breaking my rare possessions or wearing my sorcerer’s cloak or getting in my fucking space! They…. they touched my stuff!”

He was losing his mind. Maia pressed her lips even tighter together, holding back her glee by all costs. She wasn’t done with him!

“You seem upset,” she said softly.

Pursing his lips, Rogan looked up at her, a dark, thunderous look in his eyes.

Maia stopped, nearly gasping. Finding herself staring into his angry eyes for a moment, she swallowed.

That was moment of danger, for, with nothing but his eyes, he almost had her undone. It was just a look, she firmly chided herself.

It was impossible to get seduced by just a look, wasn’t it?

“What’s the point of this?” Rogan asked. “If you want me to suffer, just say so.”

With a pout, Maia shook her head. “Oh, *never*, Sorcerer. I’d never want you to suffer, you said you saved my life. Didn’t you?”

Rogan said nothing, something glinting in his eyes at how softly she’d spoken to him. He felt like a fucking fool for Maia, she had him in the palm of her hand just by softly calling him *Sorcerer* like that.

Oh, what a fool he was for her!

“So, how about…” she continued. She stepped closer and leaned over to be directly face-to-face with him. “I make it up to you?”

There was loud, unrhythmical pounding somewhere.

After staring into her enticing grey eyes for a moment and swallowing so his dry throat didn’t crack, Rogan realized that the pounding was coming from his own chest. From his shamelessly beating heart, to be precise.

When Maia straightened and turned, walking away, Rogan was right behind her, gaze focused on her as she led him away.

If she wanted to make it up to him, he would be willing to have pixies in his house every damn day. Just for the make up.

*******************

Rogan once more sat miserably in a chair. The “make up” turned out to be very different from what he had imagined. It was sad to say, they’d both keep their clothes on.

He looked uninterestingly at his own potions lined up in tall, crystal glasses on the kitchen table before him.

Purple for sleep without the dreams, blue to keep him “happy”, red for his human blood cravings, clear liquid for his anger issues and green for disguising his overwhelming aura before Geminis.

“What’s this arrangement?” he asked flatly.

Maia smiled innocently. “I don’t know if I’m right… but I think I remember you… or someone… liking these potions? I found them in that cupboard, so I poured some for you. I think just seeing you drink them will help me remember. Enjoy!”

Her smile brightened as he looked at the glasses. Behind the cheerful look in her eyes was the sharp calculations of the possibilities of the situation. No matter which glass he picked, she’d get her revenge.

Potions? Hah! Not after the things she’d added into them! Gleefully, her eyes followed the glasses.

Purple would cause a squeaky voice for one week, blue would give him diarrhoea for three days, red would give him red polka dots all over his body for ten days, clear would make him forget how to use magic for five days and green would make him friendly and kind for a month!

Maia’s mouth spread into a sinister grin. She was personally rooting for purple. Just the thought of Rogan saying, “What the fuck’s wrong with my voice?!” in a pixie voice was enough to have her eyes tearing from suppressed laughter.

“M-maybe you should try the purple—”

“I don’t take these.”

She blinked. “Huh?”

“These potions,” Rogan repeated. “I don’t really take them anymore.”

He raised his gaze to hers and Maia saw something deep and meaningful churn in those eyes of his. She looked away, refusing to share the sentiment. He needed to drink the damn things so she could have her revenge.

“W-what do you mean? Why not? Then, who do I remem— Who do I think I remember drinking these?”

Rogan looked at her for a moment, calculations running through his mind.

There was annoyance in her eyes, her eagerness for him to drink the potions far too obvious. Thoughts raced through his head, hitting him with one final conclusion.

Laurel had been telling the truth.

Lowering his gaze, he broke their eye contact. “That was me, Maia. I drank them often, but not any longer.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t need to any longer.”

“Well, why not?” she demanded.

Rogan’s gaze came back to her face and he stared at her, wondering. Why not, indeed? “I’d also like to know,” he said quietly.

She frowned and he saw the sassiness she’d developed with him shine through. It was so obvious, why hadn’t he realized it?

She remembered him.

He could see it now, written in her eyes when she looked at him. It was like her gaze said, “Rogan.”

She remembered him. She was pretending not to because she was angry with him.

Not scared, angry.

Rogan felt his heart lift in his chest, a heavy relief flooding his mind. He restrained himself from yanking her into his arms. For now, it was enough knowing that she knew him. Her anger, he could face. Her fear and disappointment was what crushed him.

“What do you mean?” Maia asked. “You don’t know why you no longer drink your potions?!”

Her frustration was evident and Rogan forced his mouth to not smile. “Well, I just stopped needing to.” He pointed at the glasses, one by one. “I stopped having sickening dreams… I wasn’t depressed any longer… my cravings stopped… my anger issues aren’t as bad as before…. And I think I forgot to take the green one so many times that the Geminis have been forced to get used to my aura.”

She didn’t look impressed. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

“It happened. Actually… right about when you appeared, Maia.”

Maia stared silently at him and he stared back.

She swallowed hard, fighting to stop the melting of her heart. If he thought telling her she’d quite literally replaced his medications as the remedy to his issues, was going to break her defences… he was right, damn him!

Frustrated with her own weakness for him, Maia spun around and yanked the fridge open.

She still wasn’t done. There was one potion he wouldn’t resist! She remembered how desperately he had sought after this plant.

Well… she’d gotten it for him! And she’d made it into a nice little juice, with a twist.

Rogan watched as she turned around with a tall glass of a purple-pink, sweet-smelling juice, setting it before him.

His heart immediately constricted in his chest, all amusement leaving his eyes.

“How about this?” Maia asked, her eyes glinting. “I feel like I remember someone liking Trojans.“

Yeah, she thought to herself. Trojans with an extra ingredient to make him her willing slave for a week! She’d make him build her a mansion in her hidden portal!

Rogan raised his gaze from the glass to her face. “Maia…”

The thought of him sweating away in the sun, building her chimney made her smile. “Hm?”

“I wanted the Trojans so I could die.”

Maia froze.

Slowly, horror filled her eyes. “W… what?”