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Classical music plays as Sophie walks slowly down the aisle, golden hair caught in a bun encircled by intricate braids, green eyes gleaming beneath dark eyeshadow, lips stained the crimson red of fresh blood. The people in the pews turn, watching her with various expressions on their faces, and she smiles, her eyebrows narrowing wickedly. Her gray silk dress rustles around her feet, the billowy train supported by three rats. She looks forward, her gaze focusing on silver haired boy standing in the front of the ballroom. For a moment, she sees his hair curl and turn to gold, and she stumbles, memories flashing into her mind at dizzying speeds.
A ballroom much like this one.
A golden boy on his knee.
An arrow turned to a daisy with a flash of pink.
A mother, begging for a kiss.
A ring of black swan gold, carrying a promise.
A father, begging for his life.
A golden boy, not so golden anymore, lying in a pool of blood.
A dark haired girl screaming as she was sent back to a town that could barely hold her.
A silver boy on his knee, gazing up at a golden haired, silver souled girl.
And a yes.
When she looks back up, Rafal’s hair is back to silver. He’s as stunning as she is in a black suit with silver accents and a gem of black swan gold in his silver crown. Their outfits match. Matching outfits for matching Evil souls.
She continues walking, black high heels clicking on the polished wood. In the seats near her, Hester and Anadil are shooting fearful glances at each other, then Rafal, then Sophie, and back to each other. To think Sophie used to call them friends. When she’s Queen, there will be no friends. There will only be servants.
Rafal extends a hand to her once she’s only a few steps away from the raised dais at the end of the ballroom. She lays her hand in his, pale skin on pale skin, so unlike golden Tedros, and he pulls her up with a gleaming smile. At least his smile isn’t much different from Tedros’, with those white teeth and softening eyebrows. She knows Rafal’s Evil, just as Evil as she is, but when he smiles, it’s hard to remember.
When he smiles, she can almost imagine he’s her happy ending.
He is her happy ending. He is her only happy ending now.
Now that Agatha’s gone.
She steps up and turns to face him, hoping her smile looks real. They stand, eyes locked onto each other, icy blue and emerald green. One of Anadil’s rats comes scampering up the aisle, holding the two rings, both made of shiny black swan gold, on a velvet cushion. They each take a ring without looking down, and Rafal takes Sophie’s free hand.
“With this ring, I thee wed,” he says. “I promise, Sophie, to give you forever.” His voice is soft as he slips the ring onto her finger, and she stares at it for a second before taking his hand.
“With this ring, I thee wed. And I promise, Rafal, to love you with all I am.” Thankfully, she’s pretty sure Rafal can’t feel the slight tremble in her hand as she puts the ring over his finger. They clasp hands and turn to face the audience.
“May I present,” Rafal says in his silky tone, “Queen Sophie of the Woods.”
At that, people start clapping, though Sophie thinks it’s not because they’re happy but because they’re scared of what she and Rafal will do if they don’t. She likes it that way. She is a Queen now, and that certainly warrants fear.
She casts a smile into the pews, a gleaming smile of wickedness and true evil. Already she can feel the black swan gold of her new ring soaking into her skin, intoxicating her with the silky promise of forever.
~
Two days after the wedding, Sophie stands on the balcony of the School Master’s tower, Rafal behind her, staring out at the sky. The sun is just setting, filling the Woods - her Woods - with orange and pink and gold, like a beautiful fire burning the kingdoms to the ground. She turns to Rafal. “What are you thinking of?”
He hesitates before saying, “You. My beautiful bride.”
She knows he’s not telling the whole truth, but she doesn’t press. The feeling that filled her body when he called her his bride is threatening to make her explode. Because though she may be a Queen, she’s just a girl. She’s eighteen years old, and she’s in love, and that love will kill her, one way or another. Right now, she can’t bring herself to care. She feels so light, like she could go soaring into the air and never have to come back down.
As if Rafal hears her thoughts, he puts his hands on her waist. “Shall we?” he murmurs, and she nods, bringing her gaze upwards to the heavens. She hates to look at him when he’s flying. There’s something in his eyes, something she’s almost scared of.
After a few seconds, Sophie feels herself lifting up into the air, Rafal’s arms around her back, protecting her from the memories. When they’re so high up, nothing matters. There are no princes or princesses threatening to ruin Sophie now, just the rising moon, so close she feels like she could reach out and touch its silvery surface.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Rafal says, his words flecked with gold. She doesn’t quite know what he’s referring to, her or the sky or something else entirely, and she doesn’t answer. They gaze at the moon together, king and queen.
She should be happy.
~
Over the next few weeks, all Sophie can think about is that this is what she’s been dreaming of since she knew what happiness was, and yet.
And yet it’s not enough.
Rafal isn’t the problem; she’s pretty sure about that. He’s everything a prince should be, charismatic and loving and of course, handsome, with those eyes made of ice and the hair, shining as silver as the glow of the moon. And of course, he loves her. Every night he takes her flying, whispering promises in her ear and kissing her neck, his lips warm and real and right there.
Life is nice, too. Her days are spent in the School Master’s tower, and she has everything she might want there. A beautiful pink bathtub with a gold rim. Perfume in all the scents she can think of. One hundred pink gowns and heels that match each gown perfectly. A bed with the finest fluffy sheets and goose feather pillows. But for all her luxuries, she tosses and turns in her bed every night, with not even the melodies of the stars able to lull her to sleep.
So it’s her. Her doubts that are ruining her happily ever after. She misses Agatha with every fiber of her being, even though she knows she shouldn’t. This should be all she needs, Rafal and queen and her kingdom. But Agatha, greasy haired, bug eyed Agatha, is still holding on to her heart with those freakishly pale fingers, and as hard as Sophie tries, she can’t let her best friend go.
True love, she’s starting to realize, isn’t enough.
~
The days have started to blur together. Rafal’s kisses taste like the bitterness of sugary sweet licorice, leaving her craving more when he pulls away even though she knows she can’t last for much longer. When they go flying at night, she doesn’t feel light anymore - she feels heavy, fearing she’ll sink as soon as she looks away from Rafal. The hands that once protected her are now chains, grasping her so tightly that she can’t let go.
Does she want to let go?
She doesn’t know.
Without Rafal, she’d be nothing. Though he brings her into the night sky, he is the only thing keeping her grounded.
Queens are not helpless. Queens are graceful but strong, always standing up to their enemies.
But Sophie’s never heard of a tale where your enemy is also your true love.
~
And now she’s falling, she’s falling, she’s falling and she can’t even see what’s above her, only icy eyes capturing her in their gaze, surrounding her with frost, and she can’t do anything to stop it and she doesn’t even want to do anything to stop it even though she knows she has to if she wants to survive--
-- but maybe she doesn’t want to survive --
-- and Rafal’s smiles aren’t kind anymore, they’re gleaming with evil --
-- Agatha Agatha please come back please save me please --
-- but there’s no Agatha and wasn’t Sophie the one who banished Agatha back to Gavaldon so it’s her fault and she wouldn’t be here now if she’d just been kinder, it’s all her fault --
-- Agatha’s voice in her mind, telling her it’s too late --
-- and emerald eyes staring up at the sky because when did it get this cold? Her teeth are chattering, she’s freezing, and there’s a silver haired boy with fire in his palms, fire in his cheeks, fire rushing up to hold her, to embrace her, to protect her --
~
and if she turns her head ever so slightly and looks out the window where there used to be Woods,
there is now only fire.
~
As she burns, she tries to remember what day it is. She is still as youthful as she was years ago, blonde hair and smooth skin untouched by the cruel waves of time, sustained by Rafal’s magic and the life of the Woods.
Try as she might, she cannot remember anything except sweet, sweet poison and icy eyes and silver hair and love that wasn’t really love, but she couldn’t tell the difference until it was too late, and it’s too late and things could have been better but they’re not, this is how it is and she can’t escape it --
Her breath is coming in raspy puffs now, hanging in the air for a moment before vanishing. She has to let go.
“Sophie.”
She looks forward and she’s catapulted to a moment, long ago, walking down an aisle in a beautiful ballroom, gray dress rustling around her legs, gazing at her true love. Her true love, who’s staring at her now, something like pity in his eyes.
“It’s sad it had to come to this. For a while, I thought you could be the one,” he muses, not trying to hypnotize her anymore. He doesn’t have to. She’s pulled in, and she’s not going to come back out.
“But I suppose it wasn’t to be.”
She crumples to the ground, gaze drifting in and out of focus. The fire has settled down to a warm feeling in her heart. It’s almost peaceful.
Slowly, she raises her arms, letting her eyelashes flutter closed, and welcomes his poison.