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Chapter Text

"Donatella, are you sure MY dress is up to the highest standards?" Sophie asks for the thousandth time, fluffing her gown in the crystal-clear mirror.

The handmaiden sighs, soft enough so that Sophie won't hear. "Yes, your majesty."

"Just come and take another look," Sophie says, her voice shaking just a little.

"Yes, your majesty." Donatella appears behind Sophie in the mirror and bends down, inspecting the dress. Like the other ten times Sophie has requested this, the maid can find nothing at fault with it. Really, it is one of the tailors' best works, the softest robin's-egg-blue in color with milky pearls edging the bodice and rhinestones set at intervals along the full skirt. Lace decorates the back in an understated bow set just above Sophie's narrow waist. It looks a dream on Sophie, of course; her silky blonde hair is caught and tied in a gorgeous updo, with braids circling her head like the crown that will be placed on her head later tonight, and the dress's color accentuates her green eyes, which shine like emeralds.

"It looks all right?" Sophie asks, to which Donatella nods and curtsies to the soon-to-be queen. "When shall I go down, then?"

Both girls can already hear the sounds of the party downstairs; laughter and chatter and the pouring of rich, cherry-red wine into fine glass goblets. Both, too, can imagine the sounds when Sophie arrives. The guests, the highest of the nobles in all of the land, will fall silent at the sight of this beautiful girl, one hand on the velvet railing, a demure but ever so sweet expression on her porcelain skin. She will pause and smile and curtsy there on the stairs, and the guests will part as she walks towards her king.

Donatella breaks the two girls’ silence after a queenly nod from Sophie. "You'll make a grand entrance, your majesty. 'Tis better to be late. The eighth hour, I believe, would be all right. Later, if it is not to your liking."

"The eighth hour it is."

For the next half hour, Sophie sits in idle silence on the velvet fainting couch. Donatella leaves soon, with a promise to bring a bit of goat cheese in a few minutes so that Sophie won't starve. She makes Sophie swear on Good that she'll be all right on her own before she leaves, finally taking Sophie's word for it after the fifth time.

But Sophie likes being alone, more than she would ever admit. She likes the quiet, likes the time to herself, which both Good and Evil knows she won't get any of once she's been crowned. In a way, she's not looking forward to tonight's festivities in the least. After tonight, she won't get a moment to herself until her dying day, followed by servants and security guards and commoners everywhere she goes. But that's what being princess means - she knows that. And her title as princess will overshadow any misgivings she has.

So she takes this time to relax. Surprisingly, it takes a while for the half hour to pass. She's eaten all the cheese and is still hungry, although she knows any more would not be good for her complexion. When the clock finally strikes eight, Donatella is back and is bustling around Sophie's slim figure, checking her for any imperfections. There are, of course, none. Sophie has always been perfect, at least in terms of beauty, and tonight, one of the most important nights of her life, is not going to be any different. She is going to be perfect, both inside and out.

This is what she repeats to herself over and over as she goes slowly down the stairs leading to the ballroom, that there is no room for anything less than perfect tonight, so she must be at her best. Everyone will see that she will be the perfect queen of Camelot, Tedros' perfect bride. And when the crown settles on her head, the fantasies she's had since she was a girl will finally become real life.

Chapter Text

To everyone in the ballroom, Sophie looks beautiful. Agatha is no exception.

She was invited only because she is - was - Sophie’s friend. While she was getting ready to make the two-day journey to Camelot from her house in Jaunt Jolie, she thought over and over that this was a bad idea, that her whirlwind romance with Tedros in their first year at school would complicate everything.

But she's here now, isn't she. Despite her nerves and despite the warning signs. First, her dress tore and she had to find a new outfit five minutes before she left, which is why she's now clothed in her Ever school uniform. Then her carriage crashed not ten minutes into the journey. She arrived late because of that, hurrying into the ballroom when everybody else was already sipping wine and talking. She tried to mingle with the nobles, she really did, but they are nobles. And what is she but some Good has-been?

She takes another sip of her wine, losing herself in the exquisite rich flavors, and watches Sophie and Tedros talking. They look so easy together, so happy and carefree. Like they were always meant for each other, and Agatha was nothing but a throwaway.

Agatha's gaze is caught by a person entering the room. The girl's white hair falls in a sheet to her back, and her bright red eyes sparkle like rubies caught unawares in the sun. Another girl is behind her, chocolate staining the tips of her fingers.

Dot and Anadil? Agatha thinks wildly, trying not to stare. Nobody else has made any signs of noticing them yet, so Agatha doesn't turn. But when a long, deathly pale finger with a nail as sharp as anything taps her shoulder, she's forced to.

"What are you doing here?" Agatha hisses furiously. "I thought you were dead! We all did!"

Sighing, Anadil whispers, "No time to explain, kay? Hester's waiting. We got one job to do here and we're gonna do it, for Evil's sake."

Agatha can only watch as Anadil and Dot move through the throng of guests. Still, nobody seems to see them, and now that Agatha looks closer, she can see a soft yellow glow around each of them. An invisibility spell! It must be cast with much higher magic than usual, since I can see them, but how. . .

They stop right in front of the happy couple. Sophie gazes in front of her, right where Dot is standing munching on a chocolate goblet, but evidently doesn't find anything amiss. And Agatha is pretty sure that their old classmates from school, who once tried to kill Sophie and was thought to be dead for the past five years, would certainly be something amiss.

So Sophie must not see them either.

Mind reeling, Agatha runs after them into the crowd, "excuse me"s and "sorry"s following her as she slams into nobles left and right. She finally reaches them, almost crashing into Dot's pudgy form, but is stopped by a delicate hand on her shoulder.

"Aggie, what a delight," comes Sophie's lilting tone. "I didn't think you'd actually show up! Really, I wasn't sure my invitation would even reach your house, you move around so much!"

Tedros laughs. It's not a real laugh, though; his eyes don't crinkle the way they used to and his smile doesn't rise to his eyes like she remembers. It's forced, practiced, a face he puts on for Camelot and for Sophie. A pang hits Agatha's heart as she looks at him, trying not to remember what they once had.

Even still, Agatha takes the time to properly study him. In the last five years, she's seen Sophie more times than she cares to admit, but she hasn't seen Tedros once or even given into the desire to look at his picture in the newspapers or library archives. Now she sees that he hasn't changed at all. His blue eyes are still perfectly clear, and his golden hair still flops over his right eyebrow. If anything, his muscles may be even more defined, but otherwise, he is an exact replica of the boy she knew from school.

The boy she fell in love with.

The boy she still loves.

Perhaps it would have been better to pretend Sophie never sent her an invitation at all. . .

Chapter Text

Hester doesn't know how long she's been waiting.

The night air is striking her bare arms with a vengeance, and she's long past freezing. She prides herself on being resilient, but it's been at least an hour since she watched Anadil and Dot walk into Camelot Castle, and now she's teeth-chattering, bone-rattling freezing. She wonders why she even let them persuade her to be lookout, the lowliest job in the history of spies. But while they were dividing up the jobs, Anadil was talking about how she wanted to sneak in, and Hester's demon could ward off intruders so she would be the best lookout, and Hester lost herself in Anadil's smooth voice. She didn't even bring up Anadil's rats, and so by the end of it, Hester was lookout and that was that.

The moon shines overhead, casting its light through a wall of thick white clouds for a few seconds. The castle stands like a lighthouse far in front of her, broadcasting its warmth and safety for all to see. Hester wishes desperately that she could enter, but she knows it would disrupt the whole plan. Besides, she's almost completely sure that Anadil and Dot will be back out soon.

Raising one hand to her lips, Hester checks that the invisibility spell she put on herself is still there, glimmering in the faint moonlight. Then she adjusts the tiny silver bracelet on her arm, running her fingers over the smooth, cold filigree metal, pausing at the clasp.

Hester has never been one for jewelry. But the bracelet is no ordinary jewelry.

"Anadil, can you hear me?" she hisses through the fine golden clasp of the bracelet.

There's nothing for a few seconds, just the rustling of fabric and the faint background sound of nobles' cultured voices, then she hears something. Anadil. Even though it's only been an hour or so since she last saw Anadil, her heart still skips a beat when she hears the albino's husky voice.

"Don't get your demon in a frenzy, Hest. We're fine. It's just taking a little longer than expected, is all. We'll be out in a bit."

Despite her mounting annoyance, Hester manages to control her tone when she speaks. "How much longer?"

"You sound like a whiny teenager. Few minutes, if that." She pauses for a few seconds, and Hester is just about to slap her hand over the bracelet, effectively cutting off the conversation, when she talks again. "Did you know Agatha was going to be here?"

Hester's demon nearly leaps off her thigh in surprise, and the girl herself stammers, "Obviously I knew she was invited, but I didn't think she would show -"

"Well, she's here. And she can see us. I managed to brush her off pretty well, if I do say so myself, but sooner or later she's going to be questioning us like she's some kind of private detective." Anadil sighs sharply, the world weary sigh of someone who has had enough of this foolishness. "Listen, I'm going to stay a little longer. Dot's heading out. If she turns anything else into chocolate, Sophie's going to realize and tear the ballroom apart. Speaking of Soph -"

The voice on the other end is suddenly muffled, as if Anadil has stuffed the bracelet back into her pocket immediately. For a moment, Hester feels the urge to rush in there to protect Anadil - and Dot, she supposes. But her invisibility spell is wearing off, and by the time she was at the castle, it will surely have cleared off altogether. Then Tedros and all the other nobles will see her, not to mention Sophie -

No time for that kind of thinking, Hester chides herself. Anyway, Dot's pudgy form is visible in front of the castle. She'll get to Hester's hiding spot any moment now, and then they'll wait together for Anadil. And when Anadil comes out, the three witches will run.

Because if Sophie sees them, she'll realize they're actually alive.

Then they're definitely dead.

For real this time.

No coming back.

Chapter Text

For Sophie, tonight has been wonderful.

But wonderful is still a few steps away from perfect.

It would have been perfect, she supposes, if Agatha hadn't shown up. She probably shouldn't have even sent the invitation, but Tedros needled her until she caved and wrote Agatha of Jaunt Jolie in her flowing script on the front of one glossy envelope. So now that Agatha's showed up, she's giving a fake little laugh, and slipping an arm around Tedros to remind Agatha that he's hers and only hers, no matter what may have been.

"So!" Sophie says brightly, taking another sip of her wine. It's a cherry red in color and quite bubbly, and usually the kind of thing she would detest, but tonight is different than usual. Tonight decides her future. Tonight, there are no rules. "How have you been, Agatha?" She draws out the last syllable of Agatha's name, maybe as an attempt to fill the silence she knows is going to arise.

Sure enough, Agatha doesn't say a thing. Tedros is still silent, too, the bright smile that showed up on his face when he saw Sophie long gone.

"Well." Sophie coughs. "Not a very talkative bunch, are we?"

The silence persists. Sophie frowns, then immediately smiles again because frowns give you wrinkles, or so she's heard. She's not willing to test it out.

Finally, finally, Agatha speaks. "It's been a really long time since I've seen you two," she says, her voice low and a tiny bit sad.

It isn't the start Sophie was hoping for, but it's something, so she takes the bait and chomps hard. "Oh, yes, indeed. Far too long, if you ask me. Perhaps we can arrange another meeting soon. Are you staying for the coronation?" Just to remind Agatha that Tedros is almost officially hers.

Agatha's gaze darts around, resembling that of a caged roach. "Um . . . I don't . . ."

The change in Tedros' face is barely noticeable, but both Agatha and Sophie have spent enough time with him to notice the tiny drop in his lips. Agatha bites her lip, blood welling from the force.

"Of course she'll come," Sophie says, if only to please Tedros. "Right, Aggie?"

When she hears the old nickname, Agatha gulps, probably remembering, like Sophie is, years of walks through Gavaldon, talking about everything and nothing, the unlikely friendship between a Princess of the Greatest Good and a Witch of the Greatest Evil. "Y-yeah. I'll be there." She stares at her shoes, which Sophie notices with wry amusement are soggy black clumps. Her clothes may be the same, but this is not the Agatha she remembers, the one who morphed into everything from a cockroach to a dove to an elephant, the Agatha who loved doing both Good and Evil spells. The one who didn't shy away from anything. The Agatha who was her best friend.

This Agatha is awkward and shy. And, Sophie realizes with a sudden feeling of being punched in the stomach, the change may have been mostly her fault. The feeling that comes with having your best friend fall in love with your royal boyfriend and cut off all connections to you can't be a nice one. But at least she's trying to make up for it now, right?

Sophie knows she's a good person. Maybe there was - is - a spark of Evil in her soul, but Sophie believes that anyone can learn to be Good, as long as you work at it. This, along with you're beautiful and all your dreams will come true, is her mantra, the words she's repeated every morning in the mirror while brushing her golden hair.

She's jolted back to real time by a voice in her ear, scratchy and rough. The voice of a villain. "Ready," it says, then vanishes as quickly as it came. She turns her head so fast that the possibility of whiplash is quite high, but she doesn't see anyone.

Snorting, she dismisses it as nothing and turns back to Agatha. It's her coronation tonight - she doesn't have time to dwell on hallucinations. Because a hallucination is surely all it was. "How has Jaunt Jolie been treating you, Aggie? It's a beautiful place, is it not?”

Sophie and Agatha fall into conversation, during which Tedros gets up to mingle. The conversation is seemingly normal to noble onlookers but has a hint of formality underneath it, like they were never friends at all. Maybe they weren’t. Certainly they aren't now.

It’s about fifteen minutes until Sophie stands up, her drink long gone. She taps against the empty glass with one pink manicured fingernail and begins to make her before-coronation speech, which she prepared for two hours yesterday afternoon. Two hours, in which she could have been doing an extensive skincare routine. Her face could be glowing right now - not that it isn’t, of course. But before she can start, a shadow darts in from behind the stage. Agatha flinches, and Sophie takes it as a welcome sign that she's not going crazy.

She has to start. The sooner the speech is over, the sooner she’ll be queen.

"There will be a pause in the proceedings," comes a loud voice, and Sophie is the one who flinches this time, because she knows that voice. It's silky smooth, with a Camelotian accent under it. It's also the voice that Sophie has heard every day for the last five years.

She gets up and glides over to Tedros, taking care to keep her expression placid. He’s standing in the middle of the room, looking focused. It’s almost like he doesn’t see her.

It’s almost like he hasn’t been seeing her for the past five years.

“What are you doing?” she whispers angrily.

“Something that must be done,” he says calmly. He turns to face her, blue eyes meeting green. “I’m sorry, Sophie,” he whispers quietly. “But I realized that this, our marriage and coronation. . . It isn’t what’s right. We can’t go through with this.”

“But—” Sophie feels tears rising to her eyes, but she won’t allow herself to cry.

“I’m sorry,” Tedros repeats, pressing a kiss to her smooth forehead. But it doesn’t mean anything to Sophie. It is simply a formality. Because they aren’t getting married. She’s not going to be queen of Camelot. They’re not starting a future together, or growing old together. She’s not getting the happily ever after that she knows she deserves.

All of Sophie’s fantasies are gone, in one terrible moment. She sobs, breath hitching, into the sleeve of her gown, not caring who sees her, and runs. She doesn’t know where she’s going; all she knows is that she has to get away from here, away from this terrible place where all her dreams were ruined, crushed into tiny fragments.

With a malicious smile on her face, Anadil.watches from the shadows while Dot nibbles a chocolate cup. “Perfect,” Anadil whispers. “Lady Lesso will be so pleased.”

Chapter Text

When Agatha opens her eyes, all she sees is darkness. White hair and eyes swim into her view, followed by red hair streaked with black and a nose ring, and finally plump white hands with something dark brown staining them. Wait. . . is that chocolate?

She sits up immediately. Dot grins sheepishly. "Hester! Anadil! Agatha's awake!" Dot calls, turning towards the back of the tiny room they're in.

Hester and Anadil burst into the room from a small door in the back, Hester's face flushed and Anadil looking curiously stoic. "He is, too," Anadil says, her voice calm and smooth. "In the other room."

“He?” Agatha asks, her voice shaky. She doesn’t remember anything from the last few days, just one face besides the Trio’s: Sophie. Didn’t she go to Sophie’s coronation? Maybe she was kidnapped there. But then… who is “he”? Another party guest? And then, in a sudden and unwelcome burst of information flooding her brain, it all comes back. Seeing Anadil and Dot. . . Talking with Sophie. . . Tedros stopping the coronation. . . and finally darkness.

He.

"He's here?" she gasps out, tipping back into her position on the floor. Her head feels strange, like she's been spelled. But the Coven wouldn't spell her, right? They're her friends. . . or they used to be. But that was five years ago. So much has changed.

"Were you not listening before? Yeah, we got him too. You're both essential," Hester says in a tone that sounds almost bored. "Look, we gotta move. He's not awake yet, but we can carry one person in the carriage. Are you okay with walking?" Her expression dares Agatha to say no, with a little smirk and a tilted head.

But a lot has happened, and Agatha definitely doesn't want Hester's wrath on top of everything else. So even though she's still tired and confused and aching all over, she mumbles a "yes" and flops over on her side, shielding her face with one hand. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Dot looking towards her with worry in her brown eyes, but she shakes her head. I'm fine.

She only gets to rest for a few blissful minutes before Anadil shakes her and tells her they're about to start moving. The Coven, minus Dot, leads her out of the cave and she blinks at the surroundings. There's trees everywhere, shading them from the moon overhead. Even though she just came out of the cave, she can barely see the opening. "How long was I in there?"

"Two days, give or take," Anadil answers, not looking at her. "We have to get there in three days and we can only travel at night or we'll get spotted. He should wake up by tomorrow; if not we'll get him some kind of potion. By midnight tomorrow we need to abandon the carriage, so it'll be walking from there."

Agatha nods and trudges forward. The sound of wheels on dirt jolts her from her stupor, and she turns to see Dot driving a carriage out of the mouth of the cave. She spins to Hester and Anadil, surprised.

"We had to be trained in a few different things," Hester says with a shrug, not giving any indication why. For about the eighteenth time, Agatha wonders about the Coven - where they’ve been, what they’ve been doing, how they escaped death. But it’s theirs to share. "Driving carriages was one of them,” Hester continues. “Dot was the best and now she's our designated chauffeur. She drives us around everywhere."

Dot hears from the carriage and shoots a glare at Hester, but her face is so sweet naturally that it only looks cute. Hester snickers and continues walking, Anadil by her side.

They walk until the sun finds them under the trees, and then Hester and Anadil run ahead to find a cave or clearing to sleep in. It doesn't take that long, and when they're all at the cave Agatha immediately collapses on the floor, more tired than she can ever remember being despite the fact she slept for a day and a half back in the other cave.

The next night, Hester rouses her at dusk and they start walking again. An hour or so in, he wakes up (or so Dot says), but Hester tells Agatha strictly that she can't see him until midnight, when they abandon the carriage. The hours until midnight seem endless, just more walking and silence. Agatha takes comfort in the sounds of the forest at night, rustles in the bushes of countless animals and the wind in her ears, gentle but not contained, as it should be.

When midnight finally comes, Hester finds a partially hidden clearing for them to hide the carriage, and Dot drives it in and hops out, opening the door for him. Agatha's heart is beating much too fast. She's pressed against a tree trunk, eyes fixated on the carriage door, when he stumbles out, and she almost faints. His eyes, so blue, are searching (for her? for Sophie?), and his hair is somehow still combed and gelled like it was on the night of the coronation. Then he spots her, and the Coven, as one, moves as he walks towards her.

Tedros and Agatha.

The perfect Good couple, finally reunited.

But is their romance truly for the history books, or is it doomed by their pasts?

Chapter Text

Could that really be her? Agatha, my first love? (Your true love, a voice whispers in my head, but I ignore it. For now.) I thought it was a dream when I saw her at the coronation, but now the leaves in my once pristine clothes and the mud on my face are all too real. . . so she must be too. And Sophie. I can’t believe I actually called off the coronation. The marriage with Sophie was just to please the people - me, the king of Camelot, pledging my life to the most beautiful girl in the Woods. The fact that she used to be Evil was even better, at least in my advisors’ opinions. We were going to be a legend. I was playing the role I was born to, that of a chivalrous and handsome prince who always gives second chances, and Sophie was the beautiful girl who was trying so hard to be better. The perfect success story.

But I couldn’t go through with it. In my head, I’ve been debating calling off the engagement since the start. I never told her, though. I know it would break her heart. I know that that night was all her dreams come true, and I. . . I ruined that for her. And for what? My own happiness? A chance to chase the girl that I stupidly fell in love with in our first year? We were children, it couldn’t have meant anything. And I was so selfish. All my life, I’ve been raised to put other people’s needs before my own. Of course I should put Sophie first. But I can’t. I’m not the perfect king of legend everybody says I am. I was supposed to fix my parents’ disastrous tale with a beautiful ending for myself: a gorgeous wife, children, grandchildren, heroic expeditions, and finally death at ninety or ninety-five years of age. Perhaps I would have found a witch to prolong my life, and then I would have gotten to one hundred or a little more. It’s the kind of life everybody wants.

Except me. I’ll never want that, as long as she’s here.

I plod along after the Coven, knowing Agatha’s watching me but not doing anything about it. When I stepped out of that musty carriage, I was so close to kissing her. It would have been so perfect, feeling safe in each others’ arms, my lips on hers, together once again. But, like the wedding with Sophie, I wasn’t brave enough. So instead I just keep walking down the forest path and try not to think of the disappointment in her beautiful eyes.

Just ahead of me, Hester and Anadil are talking in low voices. When did they get so close? What happened with the Coven? All I know is that they were missing for five years and now. . . this. Were they at the coronation? They must have been. I was never that close with them and I only talked to them once or twice, but still their death was shocking. The three greatest witches of our year, besides Sophie, and then they were killed without a second thought. Everyone saw them die, the fire rising up around them as their chains were slowly lowered. I remember the look of pure horror in Dot’s chocolatey eyes, Hester’s fist shaking even though she was pretending she was fine, Anadil’s rats trembling on their master’s shoulders. And then they were killed. They were dead. Dead dead. Dead as a doorknob dead. Everyone knows that.

So if they’re alive, nothing is what I thought it was.

After a few hours of walking, we get to a small clearing where Dot stops the carriage. The witches pull it into the woods to hide it. While they’re gone, Agatha stares stonily at a tree. Tentatively, I sit on a rock next to her and look up at the tree.

“Agatha?” I say after a moment, my eyes not lifting from the tree.

“Yes.” Her voice is cold and hostile and emotionless, so different from the Agatha I knew and yet so similar. I can’t believe it’s been eight years. I still feel like a child, wielding my father’s sword and not knowing anything about how the world works.

I am still a child, I realize with a jolt of pain. Excalibur is back at my - the - castle, tucked safely in its sheath in the throne room, but I still am the same person I was in first year, oblivious to everything around me. The witches are alive, Agatha’s here, finally, and I have absolutely no idea what to do. Because I haven’t been growing up. I’ve stayed at the same level of maturity for eight years, letting my advisors do all the work. Eight years of standing at a crossroads, unsure of my place in the world. I thought that I would never have to choose a path. And now, in the course of one night, my life has been uprooted, taken by the leaves and ripped out of the ground. Now, I have to make my own decisions, something I haven’t done for eight years.

But maybe. . . maybe with her here, things can start moving again. Maybe with her here, everything will be okay.

Maybe I’ll be okay.

Chapter Text

Alone in her room, Sophie sobs into a quilted duvet cover for the second day in a row. It was supposed to be her night. Her party. Her fairytale beginning. And now Tedros is with that horrible Agatha and she’s alone. If everything had gone according to plan, the crown would have already lowered onto her head, the silver offsetting the spun gold of her hair. Then Tedros, with his own crown shining brilliantly, would have gotten down on one knee and pull out a diamond ring, and she would have cried and accepted it and they would kiss, the perfect princess with her perfect prince.

At least the bit about the crying came true.

She sits up, wiping her eyes with a sense of finality. She’s not going to give Tedros’ kidnappers what they want - no, that’s not her at all. Her mind fills with thoughts of revenge, but when they clear away, only one name is left.

Agatha.

Sophie’s former best friend took her rightful prince.

And with him went her hopes, her dreams, her fantasies.

She savagely brushes away an errant tear and rings the bell that’s by her bed, calling Donatella. Soon, the maid bustles in with a look of pity.

“Lady Sophie, are you-”

Lady. That should be Princess, Sophie thinks, feeling a sharp jolt of anger. She promises herself that by the time this is all over, she will be a Princess. This is just a minor bump in the road, and once she’s cleared it, Camelot will love her even more.

“Donatella,” Sophie commands, beckoning the maid over with a flick of her finger. “Ready the horses and a squadron of guards. I will ride out at dawn.”

“Yes, my lady.” Donatella gives a quick, nervous bow and scurries out of the room, leaving Sophie to her thoughts.

Sophie lies back on her bed and watches the ceiling, thinking. She should have known Agatha was there to ruin it all. She should have known not to invite that roach. But Tedros wanted her to. Tedros didn’t - doesn’t - love her. And she doesn’t love him. They both have known that for years, since they started dating after school ended. Before, it didn’t matter. Their marriage was for appearance’s sake; love had nothing to do with it. Life together might lack emotion, but Sophie’s fine with that. Her experiences with love have never turned out right, from Tedros to Hort to the countless Everboys she dated in second and third year.

Slowly, a thought starts forming in her head. It would be. . . not quite Evil, but certainly not Good. She’d thought she wasn’t Evil anymore, but now she realizes that you can’t let go of who you are. Evil is a part of her, and by Merlin, she’s going to use it.

She reaches over to ring the bell again and soon Donatella comes back in, a nervous look on her face. “T-the horses are being prepared, milady -”

“Yes, I know.” Sophie pauses for a moment for added drama, then says, “I wish to make a speech. Tell the guards to open the gates and let all of Camelot into the castle. I expect everything to be ready in one hour..”

“Of course, milady. Er - did you need anything else?”

A quelling look is all it takes to send Donatella off again, and Sophie gets up and walks to her mirror. If everyone needs to be ready, that includes her.

After she’s done her makeup and hair, she finds a black dress that perfectly conveys her message of serious yet stunning. It’s got bell sleeves that go to her elbows and a sleek, tight skirt that stops just above her ankles, and is dotted with pearls. She pairs it with long black gloves that go from the tip of her middle finger to her elbow, a simple pearl necklace, and black flats, then looks in her full mirror.

Immediately, chills run up her spine.

Subconsciously, she’s made an ensemble that looks exactly like a mourning gown.

The half-hour of waiting eerily reminds her of the waiting she did just a few days before. But the emotions she had then were entirely different. Before the ball, she was excited, happy even, dreaming like she was a little girl again. Now, though, she has a mission. There’s no time to dream.

Donatella comes to fetch her at eight - another reminder of that terrible night. It doesn’t do to dwell on the past, though, and she follows Donatella to the throne room with nothing in her head but revenge. Because dreams, even childhood ones, are nothing without something to back them up.

“Fair citizens of Camelot,” she says, looking out over the gathered people. Almost every foreign noble from the ball is here, and at least 80% of the kingdom.

“All of you know of the vicious attack on King Tedros just two nights ago. We all saw how he did things that we know he would never do. We all saw him disappear, snatched out of thin air. We all want him back.” A cheer goes up at her words, and she waits for it to die out before continuing. She wants to silence them with a primal scream and an attack of her own, but that would ruin everything. So. She waits.

When the people have calmed, she allows a tear to slip out of her eye. The silence becomes even more silent at the sight of their beloved lady, dressed in all black, tears falling. “After Tedros was kidnapped, I felt broken without him to lead us. But even without him, we must find a way to move forward. We must make a better Camelot for him to return to. We must show all of the Woods that we are strong, that we are perfectly able to make our own way in life, that we are a force to be reckoned with!” A louder cheer. People are getting excited.

Her voice grows quiet again, so quiet that people strain to hear her. “I have come to a decision. While Tedros is gone, we must have a new leader. Without one, we will fall into disarray and become only a shadow of what we once were, what we could be. And I, as the closest person to Tedros before he vanished, would like to be your Queen. I would like to succeed Tedros as ruler of Camelot.” She raises one perfect hand into the air. “My beautiful, beautiful Camelot. Will you take me as your Queen, now and maybe forever?”

The chant starts softly but grows in volume until the whole throne room is screaming. “Queen Sophie! Hail Queen Sophie!” On stage, Sophie tucks a lock of golden hair behind her ear and casts a smile into the crowd. This smile is not demure. It is not polite or soft or sweet. It is a smile that shows that she is somebody.

She has a kingdom now. Just what she’s always wanted. Now all she’s missing is a prince. And she’s going to get one.

One Tedros Arthur Pendragon.

Chapter Text

The muddy ground is making its way up into Hester’s boots. They’ve been walking since twilight, and still, they’re miles away from their destination. And so much time without her demon has been wearing on Hester. Her head is aching and her steps are much slower than they were two days ago. She’s never been without her demon for this long before (except when she was dead, of course, but that doesn’t count. Her death was nothing - just a blank two years of absolutely nothing). It feels like her life is slowly draining away before her eyes.

“Hest?” Anadil asks from beside her. Anadil’s arm is slung over her shoulder and the touch, at least, makes her feel a little better. “You okay? Need to rest?”

“I’m fine,” Hester pants, then looks behind her at Agatha and Tedros, who are walking side by side but refusing to look at each other. “We need to get to the School as soon as possible.”

Anadil nods but squeezes Hester’s shoulder a little harder. The pain is a welcome distraction from the near emptiness inside Hester’s mind. If they don’t get to the School by sunrise, bad things will happen. But Hester prefers not to think about that.

They walk for another few hours, during which Anadil keeps talking, trying to keep Hester awake and on her feet. Agatha still doesn’t even glance at Tedros, but Hester’s pretty sure she catches Tedros looking at Agatha out of the side of his eye a few times. That’ll make the Coven’s job easier.

Around three a.m, Dot gives a shout from inside the carriage. “I see it!” she yells, and everyone runs up to her. She jumps out and points far ahead, where the top of one pink tower is rising above the mist. Agatha and Tedros both look stunned, while Hester almost collapses in relief and Anadil gives a small, secret smile.

“The - School?” Agatha chokes out. “Why are we going to the School?”

Anadil faces her. “Lady Lesso’s there,” she answers coolly, then turns back and grips Hester’s arm.

“Lady Lesso!” Tedros says. It’s the first time he’s spoken since the failed coronation. “But -”

“No buts!” Dot says cheerily, hopping back into the carriage. From the window, she says, “Don’t worry. Lady Lesso doesn’t hate you. Or at least I don’t think she does!” She smiles brightly, then closes the window before Tedros (whose mouth is open, gaping) has a chance to answer. Hester, suddenly, is reminded of why she doesn’t like Tedros, watching him stand there with his mouth open and his fancy clothes and his fancy hair from his fancy kingdom. She rolls her eyes, nudging Anadil, and the albino laughs (or does her version of a laugh, which is more like a resting bitch face than a laugh).

The motley group continues down the path, now with renewed vigor in their steps. Hester doesn’t feel quite so empty, especially after Ani’s laugh. But now in place of the emptiness, there’s emotions - shock, longing, and hope, all at once. She’s begun seeing through her demon - not images, exactly, but feelings.

Her demon is a tricky thing. She was born with it, or so her mother said. More likely, her mother paid a High Witch to do it, but she has no idea how you would find a High Witch, let alone scrape together enough money for a spirit tattoo. The demon, which she calls Lilith, isn’t exactly alive, but it isn’t. . . not alive. After seventeen years, even Hester doesn’t entirely understand it. And she only just learned she could sense its emotions a few weeks ago, just before the Coven left for Camelot.

“Hest?” Anadil’s eyebrows are narrowed and she looks really cute (but Nevers don’t think other people are cute what is Hester even thinking). Hester blinks and realizes she’s been standing still for the past few minutes, trying to access deeper emotions from Lilith.

“Sorry,” she says, and hurries to catch up with the albino witch. She doesn’t tell Anadil what she was thinking about, but she can tell that Anadil knows. They’ve never had to say anything to understand each other since they met in first year.

They walk for a while longer, and Hester notices Agatha and Tedros saying a few words to each other a few times. She nudges Anadil each time, and they share a secret grin. From inside the carriage, Dot passes out food once, and the five of them sit and eat in a clearing. After their makeshift early morning picnic, they’ve only got half an hour until dawn, and Tedros, whose stiff clothes are slowing him down, rides in the carriage for the last stretch. Finally, with the sun hovering on the horizon, they make it to the gates of the School. Agatha’s mouth is open and she’s not saying anything, and Hester realizes she hasn’t been back for - seven years now, she’s pretty sure. Time flies when you’ve lost all hope.

Hester, Anadil, and Dot aren’t nearly as paralyzed as the other two, having been to the School barely two weeks ago, and they lead the walk to the high gates separating them from the Schools. When they get to the gates, they stop, and Tedros furrows his eyebrows. “How are we going to get into the School? There are no stymphs around- aaaaaah!”

His jaw drops as he’s lifted from the ground by a bright red demon. It grabs Agatha and she doesn’t even have time to scream before Lilith is lifting them up, higher and higher until they’re past the clouds. Hester laughs; Lilith certainly doesn’t need to bring them that high, but it is amusing watching the two Evers disappear into the clouds. Finally, Lilith brings them down for a not-so-gentle landing on the other side of the gates, depositing them in the middle of Halfway Bridge. Then the demon comes flying back and grabs the Coven, lifting them up and flying them to Tedros and Agatha. After they’re all back together, Lilith gives a sigh that only Hester can hear and melts back into Hester’s neck. Instantly, the witch’s body seems to fill with energy, the exact opposite of how she felt on the walk. Having her demon back is invigorating, and she feels like she could go flying herself right now.

From beside her, Anadil puts a steady hand on her shoulder, grounding her. Hester smiles thankfully, then freezes as a body appears from the left.

“You’re late,” Lady Lesso says. She’s wearing her signature high-necked purple dress and tight bun with black eyeliner and dark red lipstick, and she looks frightening even to Hester with that stern look in her eyes. The five in the center of the bridge scramble to their feet at the sight of her. Tedros even bows.

“Oh, don’t be too mean,” comes a gentle voice from the other side, and as one, the five spin to see Dean Dovey gliding down the bridge. She looks the opposite of Lady Lesso in a sweeping golden gown with her gray hair spilling down her shoulders. “Tedros, rise. And all of you, come. There isn’t any time to waste.” She looks down, closing her eyes, and silver sparkles soon surround her. A mist appears around their feet, and Dean Dovey mouths words and suddenly they’re hovering, the mist acting as a cushion as they hover higher and higher until they’re at the window to the School Master’s tower. Lady Lesso waves her finger, and the window, now glowing purple, opens. The seven of them fall in, some more gracefully than others, then Hester looks up and gasps.

The tower has been transformed into a lounging area, complete with pillows, bookshelves, and even a salad bar. What once was a tiny, dusty space is now the size of a ballroom. The only thing that hasn’t changed is the Storian, scribbling furiously in its corner.

But more surprising than the newly transformed space is the people. All the Evers and Nevers from Hester’s year (besides some of the Mogrifs and of course, the deceased) are gathered in the tower, sharing plates of cookies or chatting quietly or reading one of the hundreds of books. At the sound of Tedros, Agatha, the Coven, and the Deans, they all look up. They don’t seem surprised.

“Well, you’re here, finally,” Beatrix announces, getting up from the pillow she’s sharing with Reena and walking over to them purposefully. “Now. How do we stop this?”

“Stop what?” Hester asks, confused. Wordlessly, Beatrix points out the window, and they all look outside.

“Oh,” Tedros says, and usually Hester would be annoyed at his limited vocabulary but yeah, oh is the only thing she can think of to say.

Because from here they can see almost the whole Woods, but they’re not normal Woods. They hadn’t noticed it coming here because they only traveled at night, but now they all can see clearly that the sun is melting. Orange globs are slowly traveling down the sun, and it’s distinctly smaller than it was two weeks ago when Hester last saw it.

That’s what they have to stop.