Work Text:
Hort's Never After
The arise of Evil’s reign had begun with The End.
Rafal and Sophie ruled The School for Evil, formerly known as The School For Good and Evil. Together they accomplished what no villain had for the last two hundred years; Victory over Good.
Their win was so decisive that even if they were to be converted to Christianity tomorrow, villains would sing their villainous achievement for centuries to come. For now, the students relished, feared and hated their supreme overlords. Rafal would deliver harsh punishment upon underachieving students. He had no qualms about beating up a lazy student, even if she was a girl. Rafal felt that violence was the way of the world, and that one could learn from being both on the receiving end of violent situations, and from being the aggressor. Violence and fighting amongst the pupils were encouraged.
Sophie would chew her bottom lip, and look away as if another student wasn’t being pummeled to the ground by her handsome, short-tempered King. Some people said that made her worse than Rafal, but she wasn’t trying to model a hero for anyone. Sophie waltzed around the castle that had become whole when her fairytale ending was granted to her. Her self-appointed job was to keep the students and the castle beautiful, befit of royalty.
Dark royalty.
Since October began, Sophie was decorating the castle. She delegated all creating, and decorating tasks she felt were beneath her to the LV’s, Little Villains. They were eager to work alongside Sophie, the greatest villainess to darken the castle’s entryway. Sophie was acutely aware that the lot of them had complex obsessions over her, obsessions that that didn’t rule out murdering her if she let her guard down.
As inspirational as Sophie was to the students of the school, there were mixed feelings amongst the adolescents. Nevers knew that if they could kill her, the legendary witch, they would become infamous. Evers resented Sophie for stealing their Happy Endings. They were often on the receiving end of one of Rafal’s famous “education” lessons, where they were tortured for a variety of reasons.
In this school, kindness was frowned upon. If a student helped another student out, both students would promptly be punished. And much like the late Professor Evelyn, Rafal and Sophie were privy to every conversation and action that occurred in the school. They, as a united force had spies everywhere. Their goal was to raise villains…villains who, like them, would find their happily ever after.
The School’s new moto was, “Even Villains Love.”
Did Sophie love Rafal? She didn’t know—but she knew she wanted to be by his side, lording over everyone else. Sophie finally felt like the Queen she always knew she would be. The fashion, the jewels, and the hair. Sophie’s life was finally perfect—well, almost perfect. There were nights where Sophie missed Agatha, who had chosen a boy over her. Their friendship had crumbled with their story. Sophie figured Agatha must be happy now, so she never allowed her mind to linger on the friend who betrayed her. Other than that, Sophie knew her life was—
Nasally breath sounded behind her.
Sophie twirled on her heels.
A gangly, dark haired youth stood in place of Sophie’s shadow.
“Hort.” Sophie groaned his name with exasperation. The weasely young man before her had a bad habit of stalking her—which for all intents and purposes was a vital skill the school taught to students. Hort, however, had perfected the art of unskilled stalking before it was cool.
“I-I painted the roses white, just like you wanted me to.” Hort reported through chattering teeth. He had dutifully obeyed Sophie’s earlier request, despite the freezing temperatures outside. Sophie pursed her lips together as she contemplated how she could get rid of Hort this time. It wouldn’t be hard—it was never hard, all she had to do was ask a task of Hort and he obeyed diligently. Hort was loyal to his own detriment, even after all of the times he had been betrayed by Sophie and everyone else.
Even now, Hort had no friends, and no aspirations that did not involve pleasing Sophie’s every demand. Sophie knew she should feel something for Hort. Hort was more of a prince charming then Rafal had ever been despite how Rafal at least looked the part. Hort’s appearance reflected that of a petty villain. At least his father, Captain Hook had been a remarkable villain. Hort was nothing. He had never been anything and never would be.
“Take the white pumpkins and place them on every table, then make sure the crystal, rainbow colored spiders are hung in every corner and window.” Sophie said dismissively and flicked her hand towards the closest door as a silent message for him to make haste.
“As you w-wish.” Hort murmured, and scurried down the hallway to fulfill Sophie’s request. Sophie watched him go, and set a hand on her hip. She knew he would spend all night decorating the castle. He would lose sleep, neglect to nourish himself, and then be ready for a new command by morning. Sophie briefly pondered why she only felt a cold indifference towards him.
Any other girl would have at least acknowledged Hort for saving her life.
I don’t think I ever thanked him for that. Sophie realized to herself, then shrugged the thought off and sauntered down the hall. I suppose I will bathe, now that I won’t have Hort trying leer at me. Sophie decided, and headed for her bathroom. How long have I callously used him? Sophie wondered as she undressed, and stepped into a warm tub that was kept ready and waiting for her by students who were failing as villains. And why don’t I care?
Hort was her own personal, willing slave, and she treated him as such.
That was their relationship.
A relationship, Sophie realized, she might have forced on Hort since he tried so desperately to be a part of her life. The world revolved around her, yet Hort kept managing to weasel his way into her day-to-day actions. Hort who wasn’t worthy enough to clean her toilet. Hort who no one took seriously. Such a pathetic man. Sophie concluded her thoughts about him, and did not think about him again for the rest of the night.
. . .
The moonlight swathed the royal bedroom with a brilliant golden hue. Half asleep, Sophie shifted on to her side, intending to curl up with Rafal to leech heat off of his firm body. She rolled right on to her stomach and let out a frustrated groan for her King had already awoken.
Irritated, Sophie curled her legs underneath her body as she rose. She pulled the blanket up, and held the fine silk to her chest to keep the chill from piercing her body. One glance around the room told her that Rafal must be waking the professors for the long day ahead of them. Her attention turned to the white grandfather clock, bejeweled in crystals.
Five. Five!? I told him to stay with me until at least six. Sophie thought angrily, and plopped herself back on to the bed with force. Now I get to shiver for the next few hours. Thanks, Rafal. I’ll remember this. She ranted to herself, and made another mental note to ream him out later for leaving her alone in the bedroom.
Since Evil had stamped Good to smithereens, the sun stopped rising. The moon now loomed in the sky, no matter what hour the clocks pointed to. Sophie didn’t necessarily mind being the Queen of the Night. She did mind the constant cold. It sure seemed like the sun would never rise again, which meant that the world would only become colder.
Winter had arrived early.
Stupid boy, I— Sophie continued to grumble to herself, but paused upon hearing the bedroom door creak open. This was Sophie’s chance to give Rafal a piece of her mind. She pushed herself up and fixed angry eyes upon the intruder. “Just where have you been!?” Sophie demanded to know.
The figure in the doorway startled upon hearing Sophie’s angry tone. “I-I j-j-just finished decorating—”
“Hort!?” Sophie interrupted, astonished the weasel would dare peer into her bedroom again, for the hundredth time.
“Y-yes?” Hort stuttered from a cracking, hesitant voice. Sophie opened her mouth to say something, but only groaned in dwindling frustration. Rafal had not returned. Only Hort was present. Only ever Hort. Dutiful Hort. “I-is there a problem?” Hort asked with concern, darkening the elegant doorway.
Sophie sighed, and slid off of the bed. She would have to yell at Rafal later. For now, she wanted to see what Hort thought was a finished request. She grabbed her pink robe from coat hanger and slid it on, all the while heading for the door. “Move.” Sophie grumbled, already pushing Hort out of her way to step into the hallway. “The ballroom better look perfect.” Sophie warned Hort who scuttled after her, down the stairs.
“It, uh, should be to your liking.” Hort replied nervously, since he knew Sophie was a hard woman to please. Sophie stopped abruptly. Hort startled again, and before Sophie could be cross with him, he tried to smooth over his unwise words. “I did exactly what you told me to do. I even confiscated some decorations the artsy girls made to make the ballroom perfect.” Hort hastily said, hoping to reassure her that he did not fudge up another request as he had in the past.
“Oh, now I have to see it.” Sophie groaned, and hurried to the ballroom. As soon as she arrived, she placed her delicate hands on the cold wood of the white French doors. The two doors were flecked with gold, but their beauty went unnoticed by the villainess as she flicked her finger at them to force them open with magic.
Behind her, Hort startled for a third time and squealed with both fear and intrigue upon Sophie’s fierce magic use. He snapped out of his awe when she stopped immediately upon entering the ballroom. Hort scurried around Sophie with the intent to explain his design choices, figuring she would be livid with him and that today might be the day she has him killed.
One look at her face made Hort tense with uncertainty. Sophie gaped upon seeing the December themed Halloween ballroom.
“What?” Sophie sputtered, absolutely astonished at the room before her.
The golden roman columns hosted white pumpkin decorations, that matched the crystalized glass pumpkins on the tables, that were covered in drapey, black silk tablecloth. No one had ever thought to decorate the columns before. They alone took Sophie’s breath away. The crystal spiders looming in the windowsills and corners of the room reflected the moonlight pouring in. The black drapes were tied in their middle, with a silver ribbon.
To the left, a blue-flamed fire roared. The brilliant color reflected off of the spiders and caused a wintery feel to envelope the room. Each charming decoration was eloquently placed, just as if she would have decorated herself.
“This is beautiful, Hort.” Sophie praised quietly, and eyed some bouquets of white roses on the tables, inside of the hollow stems of the pumpkins. Hort perked up upon hearing Sophie praise him. He instantly felt rejuvenated, and knew that all of his hard work had been worth the effort he put into the decorations. Sophie was practically glowing, already thinking of how wonderful the ball would be.
“You think so? I-I can do better.” Hort replied, ever ready to see Sophie smile.
“That will not be necessary. I must return to bed, lest I gain a wrinkle.” Sophie told Hort, then headed out of the room.
“What about me?” Hort asked, unsure of what he should do now.
Sophie paused and mulled over Hort’s question. “Come with me.” Sophie decided, figuring she would sleep better if she could leech off of Hort’s warmth. She didn’t acknowledge the fact that Hort was shivering harder than she was.
Confused, Hort followed Sophie awkwardly. This was the first time Sophie had invited him to accompany her anywhere. Normally, Hort followed after her like the lost puppy he was.
I suppose the least I can do for him is to let him be useful to me. It’s not like he has anything else to do right now anyways. Sophie thought to herself as she headed up the stairs to her tower bedroom. Hort lagged behind, exhausted, over worked and chilled to the bone. Sophie wondered briefly if she pushed him too far with the last request to solely decorate the castle. The thought was gone in a moment as she entered her chilly room.
Hort’s footsteps ceased to sound. Sophie turned, noticing Hort lingered in the doorway. He had his arms wrapped firmly around himself, as if to protect his bones from the frigid cold.
“Are you coming?” Sophie inquired, not understanding why Hort was darkening the doorway.
“I-in? Into y-y-your room?” Hort wondered aloud, and for once in his life he thought of a damn good reason to not enter the bedroom; Rafal.
Sophie rolled her emerald eyes. “You sneak in here all of the time. What’s stopping you?” Sophie asked, bewildered that he would not jump at the chance to prowl around her bedroom on an invitation.
“You’re in-invi…inviting me into you r-room!” Hort blanched, astonished. Sophie set a impatient hand on her hip.
“Yes. Now get in here and—” Sophie began and lifted her other hand to point towards the bed to assert what she wanted him to do.
“B-b-but…but…” Hort protested, suddenly paranoid that someone would see him being ushered into Sophie’s bedroom by Sophie. The rumor mill would have a hay day if any of the gossipers saw this.
“No buts!!! I require your warmth.” Sophie stated, her voice rising with irritation for he wasn’t mindlessly obeying her.
Hort startled as he realized she wanted to use him as a pillow. Every instinct he had told him to fucking run. If Rafal returned to his bedroom to see weasely Hort in bed with Sophie, someone was going to die. Hort had seen the aftermath of some of Rafal’s torture sessions with unruly students before. The memories made him stumble back, into the hallway.
I don’t want to die. Hort whimpered audibly, quaking now with fear. A part of him wanted to blindly obey whatever request Sophie asked of him…and yet, he realized he was shaking his head, back and forth. For the first time in his life, Hort told Sophie no. Judging from the shocked look on Sophie’s face, she was just as surprised as he was.
“You…don’t want to come in here?” Sophie asked, crestfallen. Hort thought for a moment, and then swallowed hard.
“If I intrude then only I will be punished…if you invite me in, Rafal might hurt you too.” Hort said slowly, for as much as he didn’t want to die, he didn’t want her to die either. Rafal was a violent, cruel man, leaving Hort no reason to believe that he wouldn’t lash out at his wife if he thought she betrayed him.
“Rafal wouldn’t dare hurt me. I am his Never After. Without me, his happy ending would disappear.” Sophie replied, confident that Rafal would never hurt her. The man reserved his violence for others.
“Mine would too.” Hort blurted, then realized what he had said and clasped his bruised hands over his mouth. Sophie raised a perfectly trimmed, and shaped eyebrow at Hort who was now flushing red.
“Being my slave is your happy ending?” Sophie inquired doubtfully. She knew Hort was a desperate, pathetic man but…this was just sad.
“Yes.” Hort replied, and shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, all the while gazing at the grey stone blocks. “I knew from the moment I was b-born that villains don’t get a happy ending. We have to make the b-besst of a bad situation…and when I met you, I knew I could be happy if I was just near you.” Hort admitted, figuring Sophie should know the truth, petty as it was.
“I am mean to you. I use you. I am still using you. You’re okay with that?” Sophie wondered in exasperation, while gesturing with her arm in disgust.
“You acknowledge me. You talk to me. You look at me. It’s enough for me.” Hort confessed with conviction. This was his happy ending. Exactly how Sophie described it. No one else had to understand it. Hort was happy—at least as happy as he could be. Sophie was pretty happy too, though Hort figured she, like him, could be happier if their lives had played out differently. Since a alternate path was too late, he, like Sophie, made the best of a unsavory situation.
“Then let me reward you, by letting you be personally useful to me.” Sophie insisted, wanting nothing more than to be warm while she slept. She knew heroes would have balked at what she was suggesting—good thing she wasn’t a hero or she’d be no better than Guinevere and Lancelot. Sophie wasn’t completely sure she loved Rafal the way she knew she should, but that didn’t mean she was going to jump into bed with another man. As a villain, Sophie knew she could retain some morals—that was what this school was about anyways, being a villain with style.
Hort stalled. He wanted to lay next to Sophie—sure, hell, he wanted to be a prince of evil with Sophie as the princess. That wasn’t going to happen, though. Sophie had made that clear to him before, again and again. He shifted with uncertainty, and then finally stepped into the bedroom. Hort slowly advanced towards the large bed with red, silk blankets. He stopped, suddenly conscious about himself.
Do I smell? What if there’s another rash? Sophie would never forgive me. Hort wondered worriedly to himself. It was too late for him to bathe, not that he liked to bathe, he only bathed because of Sophie. Sophie who took his hand in hers, and guided him on to the soft bed. Hort jerked, startled by the soft mattress he was sinking into.
“What the devil!?” Hort exclaimed as he tried to scurry off of the bed, as if the bed would swallow him whole. Sophie grabbed at Hort and pulled him to her, flailing limbs and all.
“Rafal realized the bed won’t hurt him. You will too.” Sophie assured Hort, who apparently had never slept on a soft mattress. Sophie briefly wondered if the other villains lived in similar conditions to Hort’s dark and damp room. If they did, Sophie thought, such conditions fueled their bitter anger at the world, and their oppressors. Fine villains—successful villains would not benefit from luxury until later in life when they earned it by stealing it from someone else.
“It’s a monster bed.” Hort protested, trying to weasel out of her grip.
Once upon a time Hort was naturally stronger than Sophie, but after years of obeying Sophie’s every whim on command, Hort had deteriorated to even less of a weasel than he was before. Tonight, that was evident in the way he couldn’t struggle out of her grip—Sophie had the fleeting thought that he also didn’t want to chance hurting her. How gentlemanly.
“Befit of a Queen. Now lay down already or I will scream.” Sophie demanded, knowing every moment she had to reassure Hort that all of this was okay that she was losing valuable sleep. Hort instantly froze.
The last time Hort had startled Sophie bad enough she screamed, Rafal had nearly murdered him. Hort shuddered at the thought, and tried to banish it from his mind. Sophie really would scream too, so he obediently laid down on the bed that seemed to want to swallow him whole.
Sophie kicked her feet underneath the blanket, then pulled it over both of their shoulders. Hort shivered again, and kept his arms against his body, intent to let her do whatever it is that she wanted to do. It wasn’t like he had a choice at this point. His heart fluttered fast as he felt her body brush up against his own. His mind nearly exploded with the many conflicting thoughts pecking away at his brain.
“If you touch me, I’ll throw you out the window.” Sophie warned idly as she cozied up to hort. He was cold, just as she but she knew he would be her own personal furnace soon just like Rafal had been any morning he actually slept in. Hort dared to nod. Even he knew not to lay a hand on the Queen. Hence his real fear of being caught in here made him shake like a Chihuahua. He felt like one too. Sophie’s personal Chihuahua she kick around, or cuddle depending on her mood.
What if someone finds out? I’ll die, and my family’s legacy will disappear forever. Hort thought to himself, as he remained still on his side. Sophie was to his back, promptly leeching any warmth he did happen to acquire while being underneath the royal blankets. This couldn’t have been the life Dad wanted for me…I just hope he isn’t too disappointed when I see him again. Horts dreary thoughts continued, for he couldn’t quiet his mind while being uncontrollably nervous.
With the things Hort did for love, one would have thought he would have poofed into a prince like Agatha poofed into a princess despite her being a unclassy witch. Who ever heard of a princess farting? That was so unbecoming of a girl. At least Sophie had better manners, like a girl should. That was part of Hort’s attraction to Sophie—Sophie was a girl. There was no question about it. Sophie wore pink, she wore dresses, she wore makeup, everything a princess is supposed to look like, Sophie is. Hort took comfort knowing real-life princesses exist, and that the evil ones didn’t have to look like trolls.
Sophie had defied, changed, and reshaped the rulebooks on how to be a villain. Villains could be pretty and pink now, if they so wished to be. Hort was thankful for that, even if he was more comfortable around people who looked like him. He knew some people might consider him superficial but it wasn’t like he was a hero. The initial school for Good and Evil had placed Hort into the tower of Evil for many reasons, after all. Sophie, Hort knew, was perfect.
And now this perfect girl was cuddling against him. Hort flushed red, and thought about escaping while he could. Since Sophie’s breaths were soft, and even now, Hort tried to squirm out of her grip. Sophie groaned softly and tightened her hold on him. Hort abandoned thoughts of escape, and closed his eyes. If this was what Sophie wanted, Hort knew he wasn’t important enough in the world to deny her anything. The girl he would die for one day. But for now, he tried to relax his mind. Within moments, he was asleep. As he slept, he dreamed of his perfect, unobtainable happy ending alongside Sophie as King and Queen of Crocodile Castle.
It was the first time he had dreamed in years.