Grian sat down at the table, a thousand questions racing through his mind and none spilling from his lips. He had to be careful about what he said after all.

"I remember when this was first built, you know." Thorn started, gazing about the room with his hands being his back. "So many faeries in the air, working on twisting the roots into shape and forming these exquisite arches.
"And then I remember seeing you, there, sitting on the floor and a quill in your hand, writing out notes on a new charm you wanted to create."

Grian did remember.
He had himself a little nook in the room where he'd be out of the way of the others, his blue sweater sleeves pushed up to his elbows as a growing pile of broken quills accumulated next to him, handwriting elegantly adorning the thin parchment.
He was a scholar of sorts. Or maybe a researcher was a better job description.
Either way, Red spent most of his time in the library, searching for ways to make magic more efficient, more useful, create better spells and charms that would help out everyone.

That was before he became Grian, ditching the fake name and escaping this world upon seeing the lengths Thorn would go to just to sit on the throne alone.
Grian knew that Thorn would be after him- after someone to create spells to cause harm. So he fled, changing the name he used and the sweater he wore, hiding from the other fae in the colour they could not see. Granted, it made finding his own sweater insanely hard, but if it meant safety, he'd live with the struggle.

"And finally, after months of working on it, you created this." Thorn hummed, casting the charm Grian created on a quill and watched it as it floated in the air.

"The amount of research that it took to accomplish was so much more than I initially thought." Grian replied, holding his tongue and searching for a sly way to ask his own questions.
"But talking about memories can't possibly be why we're both here."

"No, I suppose not. But reminiscing is a nice pastime, I must admit." The king hummed as the quill fell from the air and landed on the table, letting the silence stretch just a few seconds too long, shattering it with sound before it became awkward.
"The amount of magic in this world is fading, despite my best researchers searching for both an answer and a solution. Perhaps I'm foolish in asking you to join their ranks?"

"Maybe if you let the court have their own minds, magic would fade slower." Okay, that wasn't the right thing to say, but damn it felt good watching Thorn tense up, trying his best to keep his composure.

"I though your tune would change if you were separated from the fake faerie. It would appear I am mistaken." Thorn hummed.
"You must understand, everything that I do is to help them all. Look at the larger picture- if magic runs out, everything we know will collapse in a rather literal sense. It would be a wise decision to join the researchers, Red."

Grian knew what was at stake. Magic practically powered their world, keeping charms going and the faeries in the sky.
He wasn't in a position to refuse either, cornered in the conversation with his back against the metaphorical wall, the exact thing he was trying to avoid.
"If I accept, may I request something." His tone indicated that he wasn't asking.

"You may try. You're not in a good position to bargain, Grian." Thorn warned.

Grian nodded, forging ahead all the same.
"Do not hurt Dust."

"As long as you cooperate, Dust shall not be harmed." The king nodded. Now that he had Red under his thumb, he had no use of the fake faerie. He could rot in the cage for all he cared.
"You begin now, Red." Thorn called over his shoulder as he walked away, his footsteps disappearing as he took the the air to fly away.

Grian stared up at the shelves, craning his neck to see the tops of them. He had a long way to go if he wanted to even begin researching.
And yet somehow, he found the task calming. Like he was coming back to something familiar.