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Hecate sighs, fingers itching to wrap around the timepiece hanging around her neck, her skin prickling with unease. She fights the urge to sink further into the shadows, her gaze fixed on the entrance, ignoring the whispers and looks around her.
That morning, Pippa had been practically vibrating with excitement, having spent months planning how to make it the perfect night for the both of them. And though she hadn’t said it, Hecate had doubted it was possible. It is the Yule Ball after all, and balls, in her experience, aren’t meant to be fun.
Hecate had suggested that they get ready together, deciding that it may be the only tolerable way for her to force herself into the exposing constraints of the dress her mother had picked out. But Pippa had frowned, a small furrow between her brow marring her smooth skin, and shaken her head. That would ruin the big reveal, or so she said.
Biting her lip, Hecate had barely restrained herself from telling Pippa that the entire affair was the epitome of inconsequential frivolity. She had instead found herself nodding, a small smile playing at her lips when Pippa lit up.
So, before the ball began, Hecate had slid on the silver gown in her drafty attic bedroom, zipping it up with a flick of her fingers. She had examined herself in the mirror, pursing her lips at the way the shimmering fabric clung to her like a second skin. More than once she had caught herself wondering what Pippa would think, flushing at the very idea of Pippa seeing her in this dress, its thin straps under no guise of protecting her shoulders and chest from the leers of those who would hate her every other day of the year. She had left her hair down, craving the flimsy protection it provided.
When the time had come, she had stepped through the great doors, her shoulders thrown back and her head held high as she endured the disdainful looks and whispers from her fellow classmates. And with as much purpose as she could, without seeming as if she were fleeing, Hecate had made her way to the back of the hall, the inane color of her dress keeping her from melting into the shadows entirely.
And now, now she waits for Pippa, her dark gaze not straying from the doors for a moment. But they remain closed, and Hecate becomes acutely aware of the timepiece around her neck until she can feel the gentle ticking with every breath she takes.
With every moment that passes, every moment that Pippa does not appear, Hecate hears every contemptuous jab, every mocking remark ever aimed at her. They ring in her ears, their soft, sweet poison seeping through her, taking her lungs, her heart in their viselike grip and squeezing and squeezing until, in the pain, they stop. Her lungs forget how to take in air, her heart forgets how to beat. She almost hopes they never remember.
But then, as she holds up her hand, fingers already beginning their familiar twist, the doors open, and her heart catches in her throat. Out steps a vision of glittering gold, and Hecate’s lungs fill with air, her heart begins to beat.
Pippa glides into the hall, a radiant smile upon her lips, and everyone turns to stare. As she slips through the crowds, returning greetings and compliments with a gracious smile, Pippa’s gaze darts around in search of the only one she cares to see.
Hecate watches Pippa, watches their classmates gush over her dress and hair and accessories, but the oh-so familiar pang of guilt doesn’t come. No, her blood boils, and an unfamiliar feeling burns darkly within her chest. But then Pippa catches sight of her and beams, her smile lighting up Hecate’s corner of darkness, easing the aching fire within her chest. Pippa slips away from the crowds, their classmates’ grins turning to sneers. Hecate can’t bring herself to care about anyone around them as Pippa rushes toward her, her golden skirts swishing at her ankles with each step.
In a few quick strides, Pippa launches herself at Hecate, wrapping her arms around the other witch. After a moment, Hecate’s arms return the gesture, encircling Pippa in their tight embrace. Her fingers brush against Pippa's bare back, and she nearly recoils, her fingers burning at the simple touch. She slides them down until they rest on the gleaming material that just barely covers Pippa's lower back, taking refuge in the thin barrier between their skin.
“Really, Pipsqueak, you act as if we haven’t seen each other for years,” Hecate comments dryly, as if she doesn’t have her face buried in Pippa’s perfectly coiffed hair and her hands resting on Pippa's lower back.
Well accustomed to Hecate’s cynicism, Pippa hums and pulls away. “Don’t be a spoil-sport, Hiccup,” she warns. Hecate is unable to keep a smirk off her face at Pippa’s serious tone. “I’m serious,” Pippa swats at Hecate’s arm, “tonight is about having fun!”
“Fun.” Hecate gives her best friend a look, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh, stop it,” Pippa scolds her. “You look wonderful by the way.”
Hecate ducks her head to hide her reddening cheeks, murmuring her gratitude. “As do you.”
Pippa blushes, and somehow, her beam brightens impossibly further. “Thank you, Hiccup. Look, we’re a matching set!” She exclaims, gesturing between themselves.
Narrowing her eyes, Hecate considers Pippa with an arched brow. “You asked my mother, didn’t you?”
“I’m going to get some punch!” Pippa announces in reply, her megawatt smile not dimming one bit.
Hecate rolls her eyes. “And you said we would ruin the big reveal,” she murmurs to herself, Pippa already out of earshot. As if she had heard her, Pippa turns and smiles at Hecate again, wiggling her fingers. Some traitorous part of Hecate, that cavernous abyss in her chest, flutters before she can stamp it out.
When Pippa returns, she’s holding two glasses in her hands, some sort of red liquid sloshing around within. “Punch?” She offers Hecate a glass, to which Hecate curls her lip, shaking her head. She shudders to think of what makes up the sugar saturated liquid. “No, didn’t think so.” Pippa grins and keeps both glasses for herself.
“I will never understand how you can stand to drink…that,” Hecate remarks, eyeing the drinks in Pippa’s hands disparagingly.
Tipping back her glass, Pippa shrugs, Hecate suddenly finding herself unable to keep her eyes from tracking the graceful rise and fall of Pippa’s shoulders. “Well, I will never understand why you won’t just try it. It’s much better than anything else Miss Tapioca ever tries to make,” she coaxes, waving a glass under Hecate’s nose, giggling at the way her friend’s nose crinkles in distaste.
Hecate stays silent, giving Pippa a hard look until she retracts her arm, taking a sip from the glass. Pippa hums. “Actually, it seems like Miss Tapioca’s changed the recipe.” She sniffs the liquid. “It tastes much better than her usual alterations do though.”
Her words manage to elicit a small smile and the smallest huff of laughter from her stoic friend, a fact Pippa delights in. “Come on, Hiccup. Let’s go dance!”
She grabs Hecate by the hand, intent on dragging her to the dance floor, but Hecate balks, shaking her head vehemently. “I don’t dance, Pippa,” she says, imbuing the word with as much disdain as she can.
“Not even for me?” Pippa pouts, and Hecate feels her resolve crumbling. The crowd around them is enough to bolster her, however. She shakes her head again.
“Please?” Pippa begs, drawing out the word plaintively. Hecate has to bite her tongue to stop its imminent betrayal, shaking her head. “Fine,” Pippa huffs. “I’ll go dance by myself.”
“By all means,” Hecate gestures at their already dancing classmates. “I’m sure any number of them would love to get their hands on you,” she hisses, internally kicking herself when Pippa flinches.
She knows what they say, those who claim to love Pippa, to be her friends. She knows what they say about the witch whose innocent optimism, her love for all things good had brought a light to Hecate’s life when she had been so very lost in the dark. And she had sworn to never be the one who hurt Pippa, to be the one who made her fall.
But there is still this feeling lurking inside her chest, the one she doesn't dare name, that flares at the idea of one of the visiting wizards dancing with her Pippa. So, Hecate does what she must; she crushes it beneath her heel with a sneer and a mocking word.
Pippa looks away, her lower lip trembling. She takes a deep breath, composing herself, and fixes Hecate with an angry look. “I know you don’t want to dance, Hecate, but you don’t have to be so nasty about it.”
She turns and stalks away, missing Hecate’s wince. Passing the refreshments table on the way, she refills her two glasses and downs them in two quick gulps before setting them on the table. She goes to the far side of the floor and dances alone, pointedly ignoring the shadow watching her from afar.
Abandoned in her corner, Hecate watches Pippa lose herself to the music, twisting and twirling without a care in the world. She watches her whirl and stomp in time with the music, her face growing alight with a frenzied excitement, and she wishes she could be brave too.
When the music slows and the young witches and wizards in attendance of the ball begin to couple up, Pippa waltzes on tip-toes around the room without a partner, turning down several eligible young wizards from Miss Amulet’s Academy.
Suddenly, the unnamable burning is back in Hecate’s chest, and her vision tunnels until Pippa is all she can see. She is a shooting star tumbling gracefully alone through the night sky, a passing sight so fast Hecate fears what would happen should she look away.
Pippa finally stumbles to a stop, dancing on light tiptoes to get more punch, and Hecate unpeels herself from the wall. “I’m sorry.”
“Hmm?” Pippa turns to look at her, her eyes feverishly bright.
“I’m…sorry, Pipsqueak. It was…wrong of me to say,” she murmurs, meeting Pippa’s gaze, shame painting her cheeks a rosy hue.
After a long moment of consideration, Pippa steps to the side, back to where Hecate had been standing. “It’s alright, Hiccup. I just want tonight to be perfect.”
A heavy hand lands on Hecate’s arm, and she flinches before realizing that it is Pippa’s. With narrowed eyes, Hecate examines Pippa’s shining eyes drifting around the room, the too rough hand on her arm. “Pippa,” she starts, a scrutinizing gaze searching her friend's face, “what is in that…punch of yours.”
Pippa blinks, an adorable furrow appearing in her brow that Hecate longs to smooth away. She stares down into the cup in her hand, sloshing the liquid around as if that would give her the answers she looks for. “Not sure,” she muses. “Doesn’t really seem safe to ask.” She giggles and hiccups, a hand flying to her mouth. Her eyes widen in delight. “Now I’m Hiccup!”
Inwardly sighing, Hecate braces herself and holds out her hand. “May I have a sip?” She asks.
“Oh! Of course!” Pippa clumsily passes her the glass, a bit of punch splashing out.
As Hecate lifts the glass to her lips with a poorly concealed grimace, Pippa watches her eagerly, anxious to get her best friend’s opinion on the drink. The moment the cloyingly sweet drink touches her lips, Hecate recoils.
With a flick of her fingers, the glass is transferred away, and she is faced with confused, scowling Pippa Pentangle. A dangerous combination. “What was that for?” Pippa puts her hands on her hips, giving Hecate her best hard stare.
“You’re drunk, Pippa,” Hecate informs her matter-of-factly, the show of annoyance in front of her cuter than it is intimidating...objectively speaking, of course.
“Am not.” Pippa retorts stubbornly, crossing her arms.
“Shall we get some air…in the courtyard perhaps?” Hecate proposes, ignoring Pippa’s childish huff.
Looping her arm through Hecate’s, Pippa shrugs and mumbles, “I suppose I am a bit warm.”
Hecate leads her outside, Pippa clutching to her arm the entire way, one entirely aware of the stares, the other uncaring. The courtyard is empty, leaving them alone in the vast emptiness. Hecate casts warming spells over the two of them when she notices goosebumps erupting on Pippa’s fair skin.
She twists her hair into its customary bun with a snap, embracing the welcome ache in her scalp, anything to keep her attention where it ought to be, not on Pippa. The two stand in silence for a few long moments, breathing in the crisp winter air and taking in the barren winterscape, a light dusting of snow coating the stone underfoot.
Finally, Pippa breaks the silence, closing her eyes and breathing a happy sigh. She turns to Hecate and loops her arms around Hecate’s neck, standing on her toes and pressing their foreheads together. “Dance with me, Hiccup.”
She gazes up at Hecate, her dark eyes clearer but still alight with the exhilaration of being alive. And with no one around, no one to hurt them with their pointed words, no one to protect Pippa from, Hecate can find no reason to refuse.
She wraps careful arms around Pippa’s waist, her lips quirking up into a small smile when she feels the warmth of Pippa’s own on her face. The two sway to a beat only they can hear, an invisible orchestra swelling with each step.
Pippa is the one to stop them, pulling Hecate closer together and hooking her chin over the taller witch’s shoulder. Hecate grasps her tightly, admiring how the moon’s pale light casts glittering shadows from Pippa’s dress. And when she feels Pippa nuzzle into her shoulder, the part of her she tries so desperately to suppress throws off its fetters of steely discipline and glows warmly.
Eventually, Pippa begins to slump against Hecate, leaning heavily against her, and as Hecate doesn’t dare transfer them for fear of explosive consequences, she leads Pippa back inside.
Pippa perks up as they walk through the halls, humming to herself as she sways and shuffles little, precise steps. Her moves pick up speed and soon she is twirling around again, her skirts flaring out in a shimmering wave of gold. Her eyes close, and Hecate thanks the gods for her quick reflexes when she is forced to cast a cushioning charm with a wince.
Pippa is, of course, alright, but Hecate keeps a closer eye on her as they near Pippa’s bedroom. Hecate pushes the door open, and feels her heart swell as it always does, the room warm and welcoming, the walls covered in novel knick-knacks, memories of their times together. There's a new feeling that settles in her stomach now, a certain kind of contentment that has her breath easing and her face softening.
Having spent a not insignificant amount of time in Pippa’s bedroom, Hecate easily finds some pajamas for Pippa and hands them to her, turning away with a hint of color rising to her cheeks. She stares resolutely at the ground, her cheeks set aflame when she hears the silky material of Pippa’s dress fall to the floor with a soft rustle.
“You can turn around now, Hiccup,” Pippa says with a yawn, crawling into her bed and pulling the covers up to her chin.
Hecate does and tries for a soft smile. “Goodnight, Pipsqueak.” She raises her hand to transfer, dreading leaving this warm sanctuary for her own icy, attic bedroom but freezes when she hears Pippa’s quiet call to wait.
Pippa props herself up into a sitting position, her hair, free of its careful styling, a slightly mussed, but perfect nonetheless, golden halo around her face. “Stay?”
Hecate hesitates. She doesn’t know why she does, they’ve spent the night in each others’ rooms countless times before. But there’s something about this night that she has never felt on any other night, an anxious anticipation crackling just beneath her skin, spurring her heart into double time.
After a long moment, however, she nods jerkily, and Pippa breathes a sigh of relief. With a snap, Hecate transfers one of her nightgowns to her, and with another, magics it onto her body. She perches on the edge of the bed, lifting her most treasured possession from her neck and carefully placing it on the bedside table.
She reaches up to free her hair from its tightly wound confines only to stop abruptly, stiffening when she feels knees brush against her back and gentle fingers begin to pull pins out, dropping them onto the bedside table beside Hecate’s timepiece. Hecate forces herself to relax, taking a deep breath and clasping her hands together in her lap.
“You shouldn’t wear it so tight, Hiccup,” Pippa chides softly, carding her fingers through Hecate’s dark tresses. “Doesn’t it hurt your head?”
“It is—I am…accustomed to it,” Hecate replies tersely.
Pippa sighs and releases the final strands, massaging Hecate’s tender scalp with skilled fingertips, the careful ministrations sending a shiver down Hecate’s spine. “That doesn’t mean—” she sighs again, and Hecate fights to keep her gaze pointed forward. “I don’t like seeing you hurt,” Pippa says solemnly, a certain sobriety returning to her voice.
“I’m alright, Pipsqueak.” Hecate finally turns, grabbing one of Pippa’s hands, making the other witch meet her earnest gaze.
Though her eyes remain troubled, Pippa nods and falls back against her pillow, scooting to the far side of the bed and patting the space next to her. With only the briefest moment of hesitation, Hecate gingerly lies down beside her.
She feels Pippa shift onto her side and keeps her gaze fixed on the ceiling, counting the cracks and fissures in the old plaster with each breath, concentrating on keeping her chest rising and falling steadily.
“Hiccup,” Pippa whispers loudly, her hot breath brushing against Hecate’s cheek. Hecate twitches but doesn’t respond. “Hiccup!” Pippa whispers again, a slim finger reaching out to poke Hecate in the stomach.
With a long-suffering sigh that has Pippa giggling, the dark, empty pit in Hecate’s chest that craves the sound warming, Hecate rolls onto her side. She had forgotten how small their beds are, however, and comes face to face with a sleepy Pippa, illuminated only by the pale light of the waning moon, their noses almost grazing and their breath intermingling in space between them.
For a long few moments, Pippa doesn’t speak, simply staring into Hecate’s dark eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. She reaches up and traces the planes of Hecate’s face with gentle fingers and a careful reverence, dancing across her features and sparking a trail of fire in their wake. Brushing her thumb against Hecate’s cheekbone, Pippa bites her lip, a pretty flush dusting her cheeks when she catches Hecate’s gaze darting to it.
“Pips—”
“I love you, Hiccup,” Pippa breathes out, cutting her off as her hand slips away from Hecate’s face to grasp one of Hecate’s, tangling their fingers together.
Hecate can feel her heart stop, the steady beating fading away as the words ring through her ears. Her breaths come out short and fast, and her lax grip around Pippa’s hands tightens instinctively. “You’re drunk,” she chokes out, heart seizing when Pippa crumples before her eyes.
“You don’t…love me back?” She asks, her voice pitching higher, cracking as her lower lip trembles.
Hecate wants to cry, to wrap Pippa up in her arms, to tell her that she is the one who taught Hecate how to love, but she can’t. She had sworn to protect Pippa, to shield her from Hecate’s own poisoned love. “I didn’t—” she exhales sharply. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I do.” Pippa’s voice breaks, a tear sliding down her cheek. When Hecate stays silent, staring stoically at the linen sheets between them, Pippa pulls her hand away from Hecate’s, swiping away the escaped tear. “It wasn’t supposed to go like this,” she says brokenly, rolling onto her back. “I was going to say ‘I love you’, and you were going to say it back,” she whispers with a wet sniffle.
“I…I’m sorry, Pippa.” Hecate squeezes her eyes shut, only a single tear of the oncoming torrent escaping when Pippa turns to her other side, her back to Hecate. She is met with silence. “Goodnight,” she says quietly, turning so her back is to Pippa’s.
Again, she receives no response, but this time there is no silence. Pippa’s shoulders shake with the force of her quiet sobs, and Hecate can hear each shallow breath, each near silent gasp. Pressing her lips together, Hecate lets her own tears leak down her cheeks, their harsh sting a relief from the ache within her chest.
When she is sure Pippa is asleep, her sobs exhausted and her breath steadied, Hecate curls into herself. She turns her head, craning her neck to see the gentle rise and fall of Pippa’s chest and the small furrow between her brow that even sleep’s sweet oblivion cannot erase.
With a careful slowness to her movements, she reaches out and caresses Pippa’s forehead, smoothing out the distressed crease. She yanks her arm back, a quiet gasp escaping her lips, when Pippa rolls onto her back with a sleepy groan. But Pippa doesn't stir, her eyes remaining closed, unaware of the heavy, miserable gaze settling on her tearstained cheeks.
Hecate turns her back on Pippa again, curling into a tight ball as a fresh wave of tears dampens the pillow beneath her head. “I do, Pipsqueak, I do,” she whispers. “You’re,” she chokes back a sob, pressing her fist to her mouth to muffle the sound, “you’re the…only one I’ve ever loved.”
Hecate wakes to the sound of retching. She lurches up to a sitting position, blinking the bleary film from her eyes and brushing the empty space beside her with a soft touch, the sheets already cool under her fingertips.
With a glance around, she sees Pippa hunched miserably over her small bin, gagging and dry heaving as her stomach works to expel last night’s poison. Kneeling beside her, Hecate hesitantly rubs Pippa’s back, gathering up her golden tresses and holding them away from her face.
“Are you…alright?” She finally dares ask when Pippa collapses against her, sucking in great gulps of air.
Pippa shrugs wearily, massaging her forehead with her index finger. “My head hurts,” she rasps out.
Waving her hand, Hecate banishes the expulsed contents of Pippa’s stomach, her lip curled and nose wrinkled at the smell, and summons a glass of water. She holds it out tentatively, her lips twitching upward when Pippa accepts it gratefully, guzzling the cool liquid as if her life depends on it.
“Do you—how much do you…remember…from last night?” Hecate asks, holding her breath.
Pippa’s gaze flits down to Hecate’s hands. Hecate’s pale, slender fingers twist the dark fabric of her nightgown, creating and destroying sweeping arcs and crumbling swirls in their agitated movements.
After a long moment, Pippa drags her gaze up to Hecate’s own and smiles weakly. “I’m sorry, Hiccup, it’s all a bit fuzzy.”
“Are you…sure?” Hecate asks, her brows drawn together and her lips pursed as she searches Pippa’s gaze.
“Of course,” Pippa says, mustering up a mere shadow of her usual enthusiasm. “Perhaps…it would be best to just forget it ever happened,” she adds quietly, a slight question in her words.
Hecate’s brows return to their rightful places, and her face softens as she breathes a sigh of relief. “Yes, that…might be for the best.”
Pippa nods, staring down at her lap. "I...I wanted it to be perfect," she says in a small voice.
"It...was," Hecate replies, forcing out the almost truth as it fights and scrabbles for a hold in her throat. It had been, at first. Pippa nods again, the movement barely more than a bob, but she doesn't look up, she doesn't smile.
It being the first day of break, Hecate excuses herself to go pack, promising to meet Pippa in the courtyard when she's done. She transfers away with a twist of her fingers. She doesn’t see how Pippa’s aching gaze lingers on the spot she disappeared from a moment longer nor how Pippa drops her head against the cool metal of the trashcan, closing her eyes as a fresh wave of tears rolls down her cheeks.
When Hecate steps out into the courtyard later that morning, Pippa is already there. She is standing in a loose huddle with her parents, her bags at her side, her broomstick in her hand, and a familiar black scarf wrapped around her neck. As Hecate approaches, she can hear the indistinct murmurs traveling between them.
Pippa’s father taps Pippa on the shoulder, and she spins around, her loose hair whipping around in a graceful arc around her. Her cheeks and nose are rosy, flushed by the chilly winter air, and she beams, running to Hecate. She bridges the short distance between them in a few long strides.
They stand, for the briefest of moments, a meter apart, not touching, barely breathing, their shallow breaths coming out in puffs of white.
"That's my scarf," Hecate says finally.
A blush staining her cheeks, Pippa unwinds it from her neck. "Oh. R-Right, of course I—here."
She holds it out to Hecate, but Hecate doesn't move to take it. Hecate stares down at it, her forehead creasing in thought. After a long moment, she offers Pippa a small smile. "Keep it. It...always looked better on you anyway."
Pippa nods but doesn't move to put the scarf back on, fingering the soft material of the fringe. She doesn't speak as she stares down at the scarf in her hands, her lips twisted into rueful smile.
Dropping her bags, Hecate steps forward and carefully wraps her arms around Pippa, squeezing her eyes shut. With a squeak of surprise, Pippa returns the embrace, looping her arms around Hecate's neck and burying her face in Hecate's neck. Hecate stiffens every time Pippa grazes the side of her neck with her frozen nose but doesn’t dare move.
“See you at the display?” Hecate can feel Pippa’s murmur, the quiet words reverberating through her body, and her bones quiver with the strength it takes to hold herself up.
Hecate forces herself to nod. “The display,” she echoes.
With a bright smile, Pippa pulls away and places a gentle kiss on Hecate’s cheek, her beam faltering when Hecate squeaks and reddens. “See you soon, Hiccup.”
Winding the scarf back around her neck, she dashes back to her parents, and they take to the skies, Pippa leaving Hecate with a final wave before soaring away. Hecate turns away, blinking back the troublesome tears prickling at the back of her eyes.
It isn’t the first promise she’s ever broken, and it most certainly won’t be the last. But as she is left alone in the courtyard, the whispering of the winds and the crackling of ice underfoot her only companions, she wonders, for a single, fleeting moment, if that is the sound of her heart fracturing and crumbling to dust.