Title: Phases.
Fandom: Once Upon a Time in Wonderland.
Rating: General.
Length: 1268 words.
Content notes: None.
Author notes: Written for the Identity challenge in fan_flashworks.
Summary: On a quiet night, Cyrus contemplates how through different points in life ones perception of themselves change, many times based on the views of others.


No matter the longevity of life, everyone will always go through different stages of who they believe themselves to be.

For most it is going from a child to old age; all the stages between involving marriage and bringing children in to the world: a simple part of life that changes how one identifies themselves in the world as a whole. It was something people clung to, having a place in the world and knowing where they belonged without any room for doubt. It gave a sense of security, something he had lost a long time ago.

At one time he'd known. The phrase Once Upon a Time rather suited, he thought with a wry grin as he gazed at the starry sky above. It was appropriate when he gave any consideration to the life that once been his. A favoured son, the troublesome brother and a thorn in the side of a good many of the older men in the city of Agrabah. That had been how Cyrus had identified himself centuries ago, and he'd been quite fond of those labels.

Perhaps he shouldn't have taken as much pride as he had in the constant exclamation of cheating bastard, but that was the past and he'd always delighted in tricking people out of their money or trinkets. What difference did it make? Should they be foolish enough to bet some pretty little baubles along with what money they had, it was their own fault.

Their mother had loved them all equally, still it was easy to see she did let her middle son away with far too much; more than the oldest. Then Taj was the man of the family, he had responsibilities that had yet to fall to him and would not find Rafi for years yet. Cyrus had been trouble, and no matter how often he'd been warned off his antics it all was wasted breath. What harm was there in a bit of fun?

A lot, it turned out. One choice tore his world apart and shattered any concept of who he was in the grander scheme of things. From a loved son and brother, Cyrus found himself locked away inside a bottle, shackled into the life of a magical entity who only existed to grant wishes. All over defying fate for his mother.

Bitterness and despair were easy to fall into for the first few years, more as he began to realize just what he'd lost. It wasn't just his mother and brothers; he'd lost everything the mortals around him took for granted. No longer could he do as he pleased, forever at the beck and call of whoever owned his will. He could not walk away from an enraged master, nor could he even raise his voice in anger if they ordered him to stay or back to his bottle; his free will was a thing of the past.

Still that wasn't the worst of it, Cyrus could learn to live with that and alter how he acted when out of his bottle to avoid too many commands that controlled his every move. No, that was not what dissolved any arrogance that may have still lingered in the back of his mind...it was what the humans that found his bottle referred to him as.

No longer was he Cyrus; he was genie or slave. Rarely did these people take any interest in who he was; no one wanted his name. The kinder of them called him genie, the less than so would refer to him as slave. Not one enquired for a name, he was not seen as human any longer; he was a possession to be sought after for the wishes he could grant and nothing more.

The years turned into decades and then centuries; the compass his mother had given him stopped pointing him towards her during the unrelenting forward motion of time. Cyrus had grieved deeply, his own secret wish to be found by her now crushed. There was still the hope to find his brothers, at times that was what kept him from falling into complete despair.

It would have been so easy to become what many thought a genie to be. Cyrus still had a hidden talent for tricking those around him into doing as he wanted; he'd done it before to be wished free. The first few years he'd done it frequently, anything to not live with the constant knowledge he was no longer his own person but a magical being that would always be controlled by another.

Those few days or weeks it would last were glorious, the binds no longer enclosed around his wrists as a constant reminder he was a prisoner. No one able to order him to stop whatever he was doing or saying, what did it matter his master had taken his place? He was free, and he could return home to his mother.

If only it had lasted, no matter the duration of the freedom he would eventually feel his binds clap over his wrists again and moments later the sensation of dissolving into a mist would wash over him only to come back to himself again within his bottle. Each time for a different duration until someone would chance upon it again; the last time he swore it had been a decade he waited alone in his bottle.

Nyx had meant for this punishment to last, so far as the genie could tell.

Slowly he'd begun to see himself as those who found him; a genie and slave to the whims of man. There was always hope each time someone picked up his bottle that it would be different, this master or mistress would see a person who longed for all the same things they did, in a way. Cyrus had no desire for great wealth or social status. Those meant little when you had no one who cared about you; that was what made a person rich. To know someone loved you, wanted you and would be there no matter what...all the money in the world could not buy that comfort.

The routine of his life was not ideal, but he fell into it. Memories of his family kept him company, along with the small hope that one day he'd find his brothers once more and a place in the world.

The one day it happened, in the most unlikely of ways.

Cyrus turned to look over at his newest mistress, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth when he saw her curled up on the grass sleeping soundly. Reaching over, his fingertips lightly brushed against Alice's cheek before his fingers weaved through her blonde hair. Of all the times he'd dreamed of such a master or mistress, he never would have imagined she'd come into his life by literally walking into his bottle.

Nor that she'd adamantly inform him that he was not her genie; he was her friend. A friend that would slowly turn into something more. Falling in love had never been part of his plan, not even as a mortal had he given it a great deal of thought. That was for the future, and now it was here and the woman he loved was sleeping soundly beneath the night sky of Wonderland under his watchful eye. He was her genie, her friend and the man she loved. Still, that wasn't why he smiled every time he thought of her, or felt her light touch on his arm or her lips softly brushing up against his.

He was Cyrus, her Cyrus.