Chapter Text
Simon
“This is your fault!”
Baz crosses his arms over his chest and narrows his eyes at me. “Really, Snow,” he drawls. I swear he sounds posher the more annoyed he is. Which is quite a trick, given that he’s sitting in the dirt, his stork legs stretched out nearly from one side of the well to the other, and wearing a blood-stained and tattered Watford uniform.
Still he manages to look better than me.
I tug at my hair in frustration, and dust sifts out of it onto the shoulders of my blazer. If Baz is dirty, I look like I’ve been rolling in a hog wallow. There’s nothing down here but choking dust and glass smooth walls that are impossible to climb. (I’ve tried). (Several times–that’s why I’m covered in dust—from falling back to the dusty floor. That’s actually why Baz is dirty too. He looked fairly decent other than the damaged clothing when I was dropped down here, but my falls have kicked up enough dirt to coat him as well).
I need to pace, but our prison is barely one step across, and Baz’s legs take up two-thirds of the room. So all I can do is stand in the one bare square foot of space he’s left me and rock in place. It’s not nearly as satisfying.
“You’re such an arse!” I groan. “If you hadn’t been off doing vampire things where the hobgoblins could catch you, we wouldn’t be here!”
“Doing ‘vampire things’,” he repeats distastefully. “Do elaborate, Snow, on your intimate knowledge of my private affairs.”
“Fuck off,” I grumble. “We both know you were in the wavering woods sucking down squirrels or something when they got you.”
He rolls his eyes as he always does when I comment on his vampirism.
Still, it doesn’t matter how much he denies it, we both know it’s true. For once, though, he doesn’t try to deny it.
“Your enemies,” he says, with pointed emphasis, “kidnapped me, flung me down a well, and that’s my fault?”
At least he doesn’t mention how I botched an attempt at rescuing him by being captured by the hobgoblin horde myself and tossed down here to rot with him.
I throw up my hands, letting more dust fly out to coat him. He scowls, but I don’t care. Serves him right. “You shouldn’t have been out there!” I shout. “The Wavering Wood is dangerous. Students aren’t supposed to go out there!”
“You go out there all the time,” he points out.
“Yeah, that’s how I know it’s dangerous!”
Baz sighs and rolls his eyes at me. Then, as if to emphasize how fucking done he is with me, he pulls his jacket off and over his head and curls up on the floor, his back to the wall. “I’m going to sleep,” he bites out, his voice muffled by the green wool.
I think he’s taking the piss, but though I watch him for almost an hour after, he doesn’t say another word. He just lies there looking…peaceful. Fucking hell.
Finally I sigh, press my back against the wall, and slide down until I’m sitting on my arse in the dirt. I wrap my arms around my knees and rest my cheek on them—it’s not like there’s any room for me to lay down with Baz already lying down.
Or there is, but only if I sleep pressed right up against him. Even if I was willing to do that, he’d probably turn me into a newt for even considering it.
Or he would, if there were any magic here.
Eighteen hours earlier
Simon
“Have you seen Agatha?” I ask. I’ve been looking all over for her for the last hour. She sent me a bird, saying she had something important to tell me, but she wasn’t on the football pitch, where she said she’d be.
I figured she’d be under our favourite elm tree, since that’s our usual meeting place. When she wasn’t there, I checked the dining hall, even though lunch was over and tea was still two hours away. I checked the Greek classroom, since that was her most recent class. I even went to the cloisters and sweet talked a third year into checking Agatha’s room. She’s not anywhere, and I’m getting frustrated.
Accosting Penny in the library is my last resort. Penny disdains keeping track of Agatha for me. Or Baz. Or anyone I’m trying to find, but mostly Agatha. And Baz. She says that she’s not Agatha’s keeper (and tells me I’ve got no business even trying to find Baz, as it never ends well) (But if I don’t follow Baz, who knows what shady shit he might get up to?).
Penny looks like she’d rather be anywhere else other than talking to me about this right now, and her expression makes my gut twist. She must know something about what Agatha wants to talk about. I’m afraid it can’t be good; things haven’t been good, with Agatha, for a while now. I think she’s going to suggest we go on a break again, and so I’ve been avoiding her. I know I’m a shit boyfriend, but each time she tells me we need to go on a break, I feel like even more of a worthless tosser.
But I can’t ignore a direct request, even if she didn’t make the request face to face. And Penelope knows where Agatha is, I can tell. She’s biting her lip right now, and avoiding my eyes. I sigh.
“You may as well tell me, Penny. Agatha asked me to come find her. You’re not giving up her secrets or anything if you tell me where she went.”
Penny brings a hand up to rub her forehead, like she’s already done with my shit, when I really haven’t done anything yet. I’ve not even mentioned Baz once!
But, as it turns out, Baz is still the problem.
“I saw her,” Penny says tiredly. “She was walking with Baz at the edge of the Wavering Wood. Simon! Don’t—”
I never get to hear what she doesn’t want me to do, because I hear Baz’s name and I see red. I’m turned around and running before Penny finishes saying my name.
He’s got her, he’s got Agatha. And he’s probably lured her into the Wavering Wood to suck her blood. I’ve got to save her!
Agatha
Simon comes running towards me, and I roll my eyes. I’m already done with this conversation and it hasn’t even started. He’s got smoke rising off him and there’s a subtle glow coming from his skin. He’s upset, and I haven’t even broken up with him yet.
My stomach churns. This is going to be miserable.
Simon storms up to me, but the first words out of his mouth make no sense. “Where is he?” he demands. He looks a little crazed.
I stare at him. I thought he was here to meet with me. “Where’s who, Simon?”
“Baz!” he shouts. “Penny saw you, by the wood! Said you were talking to him.”
I feel my cheeks grow hot. Both from guilt–I was probably…no, definitely flirting with Baz a few minutes ago—and from outrage. Simon Snow doesn’t own me and has no fucking say over who I choose to talk to.
“That’s none of your business, nor Penny’s,” I retort sharply. It’s a mistake. I know it as soon as I say it. Simon’s temper is fierce, especially when it comes to Baz, and I think I’ve just lit a fuse to it.
“You’re my girlfriend!” he shouts, face turning red with anger. “He’s my nemesis! Spending time with him is betraying me, Agatha! Why would you do that?”
I’m done with this whole sorry scene. “Good news, Simon,” I say sharply. “I’m not your girlfriend anymore, so you don’t have to worry about me betraying you.” Then I turn on my heel and storm off.
Simon
“Wait! Agatha! I’m sorry! Can’t we talk about this?” I try chasing after her, but she spins and glares at me. “I don’t want you as a boyfriend anymore, Simon! Leave me alone!”
I fall back, crushed by her words. She doesn’t want me. I’d sensed it, but it’s worse to hear it. I feel tears spring to my eyes. Agatha doesn’t want me anymore. Nobody ever does want me. Not for long. I’m too much; too much for Agatha, for my parents, for the Mage…for Baz… Too much for anyone.
I stand at the edge of the Wavering Wood, crying for I don’t know how long. Long enough that my ears and nose are clogged and my breath is coming in painful rasps. That’s why the shouts have grown to a crescendo before I notice them.
Present Time
Baz
Dust is fucking everywhere. A tickle of dust in my nose ignites a sneeze that wakes me. And when I’m awake, I have to blink several times to clear the dust out of my eyes—Crowley, my eyes are dry—before I sit up.
Snow is sitting across from me, his arms folded on his bent knees and his head resting on his arms. He’s sound asleep; the faint snores I hear from him are sufficient evidence of that.
I take advantage of his unconscious state to watch him. Aside from the dark shadows under his eyes and the dust coating every square centimetre of him, he looks the same as ever. Which is to say, he looks beautiful.
I still can’t believe he came after me. When the hobgoblins surrounded me in the Wood, I was caught off guard. I’d just had an annoying conversation with Wellbelove, wherein she unsubtly tried to throw herself at me, in spite of the fact that she’s dating Snow.
I know I brought her attentions on myself; I’ve spent years flirting with her to piss off Snow. Still, I’d never thought she’d go so far as to try to cheat on him. I thought she had more class than that.
I had to come up with a flimsy excuse to get away from her, and, in my hurry to escape, I wasn’t paying close attention to my surroundings.
I think I screamed when the first hobgoblin rose right up in front of my legs and sent me sprawling. More problematic than losing control of my voice though is the fact that the surprise loosened my grip on my wand and it went flying when I hit the ground.
I was dazed by the fall, and bleeding in half a dozen places from the bramble bush I landed in, so by the time I recovered myself enough to look for my wand, my hands were already trussed at my sides, and my legs were tied together. The rope they used was thick, and they tied it too tightly—I tried using my vampire strength, but couldn’t find enough give in the bindings to allow me to flex against it.
A sharp pain in my scalp and I found myself staring into a hideous grey face: a hobgoblin. He was holding me up by my hair. Hobgoblins are related to goblins, but their skin is more greenish-grey than green, and they’re far uglier. But they eat people, just like their prettier cousins. I wondered if I was about to be their next meal.
I hoped they’d choke on me.
The creature that held me seemed to be searching my face for something. Then his mouth stretched in a terrifying grin, and he shouted to the other hobgoblins surrounding us, “This is the one! He’s the heart!”
I cringed away from the rotten meat smell on his breath—it was making me want to vomit. So I didn’t really have a chance to try to work out what his words meant. But they meant something to the rest of the hobgoblins; The whole horde of them, at least twenty strong, shouted their gross jubilation and beat their shields with their fists.
Now, almost a full day later, I brood over those words. They said I’m the ‘heart’, if I heard them correctly through my nausea. The heart of what? I can’t make heads or tails of it.
I haven’t made any progress by the time Snow blinks awake.
Simon
I have to blink several times to clear the dust from my eyes. The first thing I see is grey, smooth stone. The well. The utterly featureless sides of the well. I scowl at it. My fingers are still sore from trying to find any give in the seams between the stones that would let me climb out.
I let my gaze drift over to Baz. There he is, right where I left him. Sat on his bum with his arms wrapped around his knees. After all, where else would he be? He’s pointedly looking away from me, as if there’s anything else in this fucking hole in the ground to look at.
“Baz,” I say.
He takes his time turning his head to face me. I can’t read anything on his face; it’s as smooth as glass. Or as smooth as these fucking walls. “What, Snow?” he drawls.
“I’ve got another idea for getting out of here. But we’d need to work together.”
He snorts. “What, you want me to Up, Up and Away you? We’re in a dead spot, if you’d forgotten, Snow.”
“Not that kind of help,” I reply. “Not magickal help. Physical help. I know you won’t admit you’re a vampire, but we both know it—”
I see it when he shuts down. His eyes go from apathetic to cold, and his jaw tightens. “Fuck off, Snow,” he snarls, and I think he’d have said it with magic if he could. Fuck Off is a dangerous spell because its effects depend entirely on the feelings of the caster towards the person it’s cast against. A mage who casts it while in a full strop can send the other person literal miles away. If they’re powerful enough, they can cast you right into the ocean.
Baz looks like he’d like to cast me into the ocean right now. But we’ve got to get past this. I know this could work, if I can get him to cooperate.
“Just listen, Ok?” I beg.
He ignores me, fixing his eyes on the stone above my head. I bumble on, hoping that he’ll see the sense in my plan and start talking to me again. “I’m thinking, if you were to pick me up, you might be strong enough to throw me to the top of the well.”
He hears me. I can tell because his eyes flick up towards the circle of light some thirty metres above us. But he still doesn’t acknowledge me. I shove both hands into my hair and tug in frustration. “Baz, c’mon! It might be our only way out!”
Baz lowers his head and pins me with his glare. “Say I am what you think I am,” he says through gritted teeth. (He is, but I’m not starting that argument again.We’ve got a chance to get out of this well, but not if I piss him off more than I already have) (he’d probably let us both die just to spite me). “You’re an idiot, and you’re wrong, but say I was strong enough to throw you thirty metres straight up like you used to throw that blasted rubber ball. What,” and here he pauses to moisten his lips with his tongue. I lick mine too, in imitation of him. It is dry down here. He accentuates his necessary pause with a fierce scowl. “What makes you believe you’d survive that with your bones unbroken?”
I shrug. “Well, even if I broke a few bones, it would be alright, so long as I had enough working body parts to get you out. Then you could get help.”
Baz rolls his eyes hard. “You’re an idiot, Snow. No. Even if I were a vampire, I would not be able to throw you out of this well. There’s no way to build enough momentum for that kind of action while standing still. Basic physics, you carbuncle.”
“I never took physics,” I mutter.
He sighs, like I’ve just stepped on his last nerve, and then slides down to lay on his side. He curls up in a ball, facing the wall this time. Like it’s too much even to look at me.
“Come on, Baz!” I whine. “You can’t be tired again already! We’ve got to strategize.”
“We,” he tells the wall, “don’t have to do anything.”
Baz
Throw him to the top of the well. Crowley, what a moron. As if I could do that even with my ‘vampire advantages’.
As if I would do that. As if I’d be willing to hurt or kill Snow on the barest chance that it will help us escape.
I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.
I do my best to ignore the inner voice that nags at me, saying soon he’ll die anyway, no matter what you do.
He will. We both will, though it might take me longer. I say might because when Simon Snow takes his last breath, I may well light myself on fire so I can follow him, rather than dying slowly of starvation while going mad with bloodlust.
Well. If I had a non-magickal way to call fire.
But that bloodlust is much more pressing than the mystery of the lack of magic here. That’s one way Simon might die. He’s trapped at the bottom of the well with a thirsty vampire, and I’m only going to get thirstier. Even odds whether he dies first of thirst or of me draining him when my thirst overpowers me.
Three weeks without food, three days without water, three minutes without air. That’s the one thing I took away from the stupid “survival skills” class that the Mage forced all third years to take. Because he plans to turn our world into a hellscape that we’ll need special skills to escape from, I presume. So I’m all too aware that Simon can only live for three days without water, and we’re starting on our second day now. Only the fact that it’s cool and completely shaded down here is helping him function relatively normally; he’s not losing water through sweat.
I usually can manage more than three days without blood without losing myself. But the hobgoblin horde took me before I could finish my hunt , and I’d made the mistake of skipping a hunt the day before. That’s why I was headed for the Wavering Wood when Wellbelove caught up with me yesterday. It’s risky to hunt during daylight hours, but I needed the blood enough that I didn't want to wait for curfew to head into the catacombs. .
So I’m on my third day without blood now. And Simon smells like a fucking four course meal.