Chapter Text
In general, Angelique considers herself a fairly tough person.
After all, one can’t exactly be a war enchantress-in-training without becoming a little jaded.
(Although, she could have been a lot worse. Being fellow apprentices and several years her senior, Evariste’s already protective enough of her. She doesn’t want to imagine the kind of damage he would do now that Clovicus isn’t there to rein him in anymore.)
So yeah, Angelique would say she has a pretty good grasp of handling difficult truths, like the fact that she’s born with more power in her little pinky than most mages amass in a lifetime. Or the fact that she is somehow stupid enough to fall for her best friend.
Or the fact that she can never tell him.
It’s kind of pathetic, really. Because if Angelique could’ve picked one thing in the world to avoid, it’d be romance.
(Of course, it’s the first obstacle she smacks right into before she’s even out of her apprenticeship.)
To be fair, she likes to think she does a pretty good job of hiding her absurdly obvious feelings, even with all the surprise hugs he keeps springing on her because affection is important for friendship, Angel and she just had to be best friends with someone with no concept of personal space.
Well. A mostly good job, at least.
It’s the night before Evariste’s graduation ceremony- the mage world is abuzz over the youngest Enchanter in history, a true prodigy, they say admiringly, and Angel can’t help but snicker over how their precious prodigy had once accidentally sneezed himself into a different realm. And of course, in true Royal Brattiness, Emerys has apparently decided that the only way to properly celebrate his personal elf friend is with a party.
A very loud , open-invite, rager of an elven party. With lots and lots of far-too-merry people.
“My dear lady apprentice” Alastryn primly says as she approaches, elegantly swirling a cup of elven wine. “Standing there all stiff, people might mistake you for a statue.”
“Well. Someone has to be the responsible one between the two of us,” Angelique says, perhaps a tad too sharply. Naturally, Evar’s somewhere in the midst of the dancing crowd, clearly the life of the party.
She can hear his rich laughter all the way from the sidelines, and if Angel was a better person, she would be happy there’s someone else besides her who could make him laugh that way.
“Ah.” Alastryn’s eyes are sympathetic in that way that Angel has always hated. It reminds her of the looks she got after her parents were killed, when she was shuffled around the Veneno Conclave until she finally ended up on Clovicus’ doorstep.
But she can’t be angry at the female elf. If there’s anyone besides Emerys who could understand the long, tumultuous history between her and Evar, it’s Alastryn.
“Don’t.” Angel says softly, peering into her empty wine cup. She can feel the weight of Alastryn’s gaze.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
Alastryn hums thoughtfully. “I was only going to say that you were never the type to be a shrinking violet.”
Angelique forces herself to relax her white-knuckled grip on the poor cup. “This is different.”
“How so?”
A variety of responses flit through Angelique’s thoughts. Because he’s already my best friend and I’d be foolish to ask for more. Because he’s him and I’m me . Because he’s leaving and I’m afraid that if I tell him, he’ll never come back.
She says nothing.
“Angel! Dance with me?” And suddenly, here he is, cheeks flushed, golden hair tousled, eyes alight with humor. So undeniably, infuriatingly perfect that Angel’s heart betrays her with a loud thump .
Alastryn somehow disappears in the split second Angel takes to process that he just... appeared right in front of her. Asking her, as if she ever had a chance of refusing.
“How can I say no to the man of the hour?” she asks, a biting edge of sarcasm accidentally slipping through.
“Please. You’ve been saying no to me since the day we met,” Evariste replies flippantly, without missing a beat. “Quite literally. I’m rather sure that is the first word you ever said to me.”
And just like that, the tight knot in her gut relaxes as she falls into achingly familiar banter. “Naturally, you’re forgetting the part where you tried to kick me out of Master Clovicus’ house.”
“Then I hope you’ll consider this dance as a very, very late apology for my unforgivable behavior.”
Angel scoffs, then takes the hand he oh-so-gallantly offers, trying to ignore the zing she feels when he laces their fingers together. It’s rather annoying, honestly.
“I’m surprised you managed to escape long enough to find me,” she says as they settle amidst the swaying crowd.
“Of course I did. I’ve barely gotten to see you tonight as it is.”
She looks away, unable to face him, and neatly sidesteps a groaning elf on the ground. It’s not clear if he’s the victim of inebriation or a fight, but she can’t quite bring herself to care right now. “It’s your pre-graduation party. I’m sure you have plenty of adoring fans who would happily keep you company.”
“Sadly enough, Emerys claimed my ugly mug would scare them all away and offered himself as a sacrifice. A most unwilling one, to be sure.”
Angel lets the conversation die after that, focusing on the thankfully simplistic dance. Her stomach’s been doing a jig since the second his hand settled around her waist, and she really does not want to throw up right now.
“You’ve been avoiding me, haven’t you.”
She continues staring at their moving feet. “What makes you say that?”
“Because you’re still avoiding me. You haven’t looked me in the eye all night.”
“If you say so.” She shrugs carelessly.
“Angelique.” And that makes her blink, because she hasn’t heard that sort of edge from him since the early years, back when they used to fight over everything and anything, explosions of blue and silver magic punctuating every argument.
“I thought you’d be too busy with your new Lord Enchanter duties to notice” is not what she intends to say, but the defensive response is pretty much a reflex at this point and may the Snow Queen’s magic fail before Angel turns down a challenge from him.
To her surprise, though, Evariste merely looks thoughtful. He stays silent long enough for Angel to start fidgeting under the first pangs of guilt. This is his night and she has no business ruining it.
“I haven’t said congratulations yet,” she blurts out. “So um. Congratulations. Sorry it took me so long. I know this is what you’ve been waiting for, and I’m so happy for you, I really am.”
“Thank you,” he says, “You’re not terribly upset that I beat you to it?”
This startles a laugh out of her, because him beating her was pretty much the last thing on her mind tonight. “Don’t get ahead of yourself there, you did have quite the head start.” Dimly, she’s aware that they’ve pretty much stopped dancing at this point. “And I have no intention of being left in the dust.”
He looks taken aback for a second. “Is that what this is about? You think I’d ever leave you behind?”
“No.” Yes. “But it’s not like you have a choice in that.”
It’s not like you’re the first to go someplace I can’t follow.
“Angel.” Evar cups her face in his hands, tilting it up so her eyes meet his. Since when did he get so blasted tall? “I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”
His eyes are soft with that thing again, something she can never quite name. Against her will, Angel feels the last prickly-sharp thorns of her animosity begin to wilt and crumble away under the light of that steady gaze.
She nods mutely, and the corner of his mouth ticks upward as he lets his hands fall back to his sides. “Besides, I’m sure Master Clovicus would miss his favorite apprentice.”
Angel immediately jerks backward and sputters. “Wha-that is such a lie, we both know I’m clearly the favorite. I wasn’t the one who got my hair turned pink.”
“Instead, you just walked around with blue hair for a good day or two.” He shoots her such a smug look that Angel’s blood begins to boil.
“Because you ambushed me in the first month of my apprenticeship, like a complete brat!”
“I have absolutely no recollection of that.”
“Wow. With that smooth a tongue, you’d make a roaring good conman, Lord Enchanter .”
“I’ll take that under consideration, Apprentice.”
And the rest of the evening lightens considerably. As they twirl under a glittering night sky, laughing and playfully bickering over fond memories, Angelique can almost let herself believe, just for a moment, that this is all she’ll ever need.