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Chapter Text

Sophie

Those who lived in the small town of Gavaldon, almost never wanted to leave. It was not a particularly nice town, nor was it rich or interesting; however, it was safe and all what the residents have known in their entire lives. And their parents’ lives and the parents of the parents, as long as they remembered.
They could not leave Gavaldon because the roads - all in the forest that was around the town - would lead them back to their home. Those who tried to go further again and again, would be lost and never return. Every time a new wanderer was lost in the woods, wolves would howl the whole night and all of Gavaldon knew what happened.
However, even with these circumstances, there were people who eagerly awaited leaving the town, knowing they will not be lost, nor turned back. Such was the miller’s daughter, Sophie.
Everything in Gavaldon was mediocre for Sophie, the houses, the housework, the people. She stood out as a beautiful rose does in a field of wildflowers; rising high above all the others and pricking unworthy fingers with her thorns.
Sophie knew she was just like those girls in the fairy tails they read in school. Her mother died, leaving behind nothing, just pretty dresses and sorrow; her father worked so much that Sophie had to learn how to cook and clean and mend clothes. There were no birds or mice to help her out, but there was the looming threat of a stepmother with two sons, whom her father wanted to bring to the house.
Since Sophie was a good student, she knew all about these girls in stories, who were rescued by princes and became queens. She memorized their tales, kept them beside her bed and was ready to join them soon.
“I can’t wipe the floor and chop meat” she reasoned with her father as per usual. “My hands would no longer be soft, my nails ruined. What princess has ruined nails? Besides, I have to get ready for tonight.”
Stephan just looked at her like he always did, with a face that told Sophie, he is not happy with her. Then he did the work himself, leaving a satisfied Sophie behind. She went back to sewing the beautiful pink dress with frills on its sleeves and on the bottom, the dress she was planning to wear tonight.
This will be the dress, I’ll be kidnapped in, thought Sophie with utmost joy.
The night of the Taking was approaching and she was ready.

Every child in Gavaldon learned soon what the Taking was. It happens every four years, exactly on the same day: the last day before the new school year starts. Of course, those who are taken, do not have to worry about that anymore; only children between the ages of 14 and 16 were whisked away at night, always two of them. The most wicked and the most kindhearted.
By the age of fourteen, every child in Gavaldon has finished school and learned everything that they needed to. They learned to read and write and count and how to plant and when and what; they can sing the songs everyone sings in the town and they can sew and knit and dance the dances everyone else knows; and most importantly, they know the fairy tales.
Generations ago, when the Deauville Bookshop opened up - still run by Mr. Deauville, although not the same one - every four years, a mysterious box showed up at the shop’s door, on the same night two children were taken away. In that box there were books, two, three and sometimes even four different ones, all of which contained a new and unknown fairy tale. Mr Deauville and his scriptors made copies of them for the school and those who had enough money to buy one.
And why were they not just bedtime stories, but material taught at school? Because, from time to time, familiar faces and names turned up in those books: the children, who were taken, turned into heroes and villains of magical landscapes.
So, Gavaldon knew two things: where those missing children went, and that those books were history, not bedtime stories.
Therefore, children should learn from it, prepare for it and most importantly: try to avoid it at all cost, because there is no way back home.

“Belle will be taken, she is much nicer than you. She will be a beautiful princess in a big castle and you will stay here to rot with the pigs!’
“Radley, darling, out of my way, I’m in a hurry.”
“She always gives me cookies she bakes and once, she mended my trousers” continued the scrawny kid, jumping in front of Sophie. He was missing one of his front teeth and smelled like the pigs he was helping his grandfather with most of the time.
Sophie grimaced at him, although she was trying to smile, to be kind to a poor little soul like Radley.
“She gives you cookies full of jam and butter,” She explained to Radley. “She is fattening you up, just like the witch who fed the siblings and tried to eat them later.”
“Belle is not a witch” said Radley, but he didn’t look so happy now.
“That’s what you think”, said Sophie, walking past the boy and looking back over her shoulder. “Maybe she mended your pants in a way that they will rip apart at the most embarrassing moment.”
Belle was nothing, but a nuisance in Sophie’s life. Teachers liked her, because she was a hardworker, other kids liked her, because she was selfless, even Stephan brought her up all the time!
“Belle made her father pork and fried potatoes in butter to go with it”, he said the other day. “It smelled amazing.”
Sophie didn’t want to argue again that her recipes were better; she just packed little celery pies (without eggs and flour, of course) and carrot sticks the next day to remind her father: health above taste is the most important thing. While Belle’s father will die in a heart attack from eating all that stuff, Stephan will live a long life thanks to his lovely daughter.
But Belle was no problem tonight. Oh, Sophie was not worried at all. It was Belle herself, who told her a few weeks ago:
“I would do anything to stay in Gavaldon forever. All I want from life is to have a family and live a simple life.”
Which you will, sweet Belle, thought Sophie. Her steps, as she walked towards the cemetery, were light, remembering how pathetic Belle looked that day, with her sad eyes and trembling lips. Not at all like a princess! You will stay, because there is only one princess in this town and it’s not you, thought Sophie.
Her steps did not slow as she walked past a gravestone, that said Vanessa. It was clean, but not by Sophie’s or Stephan’s hand; they never came here to look or care, but for different reasons. The grave was cleaned by the girl who lived in the cemetery with her mother and whom Sophie visited every few days.
The little shed at the end of the cemetery was not inviting with its small windows and crooked chimney. The bald cat sitting at the top of the three steps leading to the door hissed at Sophie.
"Reaper”, she nodded to it, but the cat just gave her a disapproving glare and ran away.
Well, princesses are friends with songbirds and fawns, not bald cats, thought Sophie and knocked on the wooden door. No one answered.
“Aggie, dearest, I know you’re home”, she said aloud in a cheery voice. It was a strange thing to hear in a cemetery. “Open up, I brought you cookies!”
The door opened slightly. A girl Sophie’s age peeked out, sweeping the greasy black hair out of her eyes. There was a reason people called her the ghost of the cemetery: she was pale and light footed, as if she was not even fully alive. And she was just as cold to others as a ghost would be.
“Is there jam in them?”, she asked, her voice raspy as if she didn’t talk to anyone today. Sophie figured that was the case; she was the only one who came here at all.
“Yes”, she said with a smile. “Of course. Jam and honey. Agatha, you know I am a good baker, if not the best around here.”
Agatha looked at her skeptically. Her eyes were like little bugs in her face. “Two bugs in a skull”, as other kids in school teased her for years. “Look, they will crawl inwards and come out through her nose!” Agatha kicked them in the shin for it or sneaked dead rats into their coat pockets, for which she was reprimanded by teachers.
“I know you’re an enthusiastic baker”, she said.
“Yes, that too”, Sophie raised her basket. “Try it! They’re still fresh.”
Agatha tried them. The stale, all healthy, not at all sweet tea biscuits Sophie made almost made her choke.
“Like sawdust”, she coughed. “You lied! Why am I not surprised?”
“Of course, I did, Aggie. Otherwise, you would have not come out to meet me.”
Agatha slipped outside and leaned against the doorframe. She wore her usual black dress that reached her ankles, and a grey coat over it, that had big pockets and a hood that if she put on, reached her nose. Her boots were muddy and she carefully avoided the sun that almost reached them.
“Have you come to say goodbye?”, she asked. Sophie shook her head. “Then why? Everyone says I will be taken tonight. A fairy tale witch in the making! I don’t even need to learn much to become one, now do I?”
Her voice was dull and not at all angry. Sophie almost felt sorry for her. Almost.
“Well, you live in the cemetery”, she reasoned. “And you bite boys.”
“I did, once.”
“You have a bald cat and your mother practices witchcraft…”
“She’s a healer. Her potions are just as much witchcraft as your beauty rituals.”
“... and you cut the prince out with scissors from multiple books in school.”
Agatha lowered her head and her hair fell in front of her eyes again.
“I don’t believe it”, she muttered to her worndown boots. “The whole thing. It’s all made up.”
“Then what do you think happens with those kids?” Sophie rolled her eyes. Aggie, the always skeptical Aggie!
Agatha shrugged.
“I don’t really think about that. I have better things to do.”
But the look in her eyes told, that that was all she could think about, especially today. Sophie realized why: Agatha was just as convinced she would be the one taken away as everybody else in town.
She smiled and reached out to pat Agatha’s hand. It was dry as paper and bitten around her nails; Sophie needed to suppress a shiver going through her at seeing and feeling such unpleasant hands. A witch’s hands, she thought.
“Don’t worry, Aggie. We will be together there, just like here.”
Agatha didn’t pull her hand away, instead she hooked her little finger around Sophie’s as if sealing a promise.
“A princess and a witch can’t be friends, Sophie. One marries princes; the other murders them.”
“Nonsense, my dear. As if a boy could ever stand between us.” Sophie pulled her hand back to fix her hair. A strand fell in front of her face in the wrong way. “Besides, what does Gavaldon always say about us? That the two of us are unlikely friends. If a whole town can’t convince us to break it off, how could a single boy do that?”
Agatha didn’t smile, it was not her thing to do, but her eyes told Sophie that she believed her. And Sophie smiled even wider, because she felt happy, having done a wonderful deed today, spreading hope and joy; as it is expected from a princess.

Chapter Text

Agatha

What scared Agatha most about the fairy tales was not that they were real. No, it was the fact that beautiful, good people always won and ugly, evil ones lost in horrible ways, never the other way around. It was inevitable.
So, if she was ugly, that could only mean one thing: she was also evil and doomed to lose against a stupidly charming prince and his awfully prim and proper princess.
Unless she stays in Gavaldon, where the worst thing to happen to her was mean kids throwing tomatoes when she passes by. In comparison, that was not that bad. And there was one good thing about Gavaldon: Sophie. Someone who didn’t make fun of Agatha (that often), who was nice to her (more or less), and didn’t look at her with disdain (to her face). In short, Agatha recognized Sophie as a friend. Something she never had before.
The problem was that Sophie was not only supposed to be taken away tonight by the magical creature no one ever saw, but that she was also willing to be taken away! Agatha knew that if they both left to this… this… this fairy tale land, then things would change. Not that she didn’t believe Sophie when she said no prince could ever stand between them. Agatha was more concerned that that new world would be against their friendship and the two of them would not be strong enough to fight them. She feared that she would bring Sophie down with her, since Sophie would try to protect her. Her friend. The witch.
So, Agatha saw only one way out. She has to make Sophie stay, protect them both from the creature when it comes to whisk away two children in the night. One evil, one good.
No, if it’s up to Agatha, it will not be her and Sophie.

“Mom, I’m going out!”
Callis gave her a strange look. She was a splitting image of Agatha, only twenty years older and much more tired.
“Tonight?”, she asked.
“Yes. To meet Sophie.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Agatha fished out their biggest kitchen knife and hid it under her coat. Her mother just watched and so did Reaper.
“I will be back by morning, I swear”, Agatha said, already out of the house.
"If not”, Callis called after her, “take care! And know that I’ll be proud of you, no matter what!”
Agatha ran faster, so the meaning of her mothers words won’t catch up to her. Soon, she saw Sophie's house, the windows and door barricaded and shut tight. The only source of light in the dark of the night came from Sophie's window.
That idiot, Agatha thought, climbing over the fence. She freed the window so the creature can come in and kidnap her!
“Sophie!”, she whispered-yelled under the second story window. “Close your window, you dumbass!”
Sophie’s head appeared in the light, her blond hair falling over her shoulders like a golden river.
“Aggie! What are you doing here?”, she sounded genuinely surprised. “Why are you not waiting at home?”
“I don’t want to be kidnapped from my bed, that’s why! I’m going to fight this creature and stay.”
“With what, witty banter? Just go home, we’ll meet on the other side!”
The other side. In a fairy tale land. Agatha felt her anger flare up.
“I’m not going!”, she raised her voice. “And neither are you.”
“Stop trying to dictate my life, Agatha! Real friends support each other. This is my dream, my lifelong dream…”
“Real friends stay beside each other.”
“We will be together, even there!” Sophie shrieked, grabbing the windowsill and leaning out, almost touching the branches of the rosetree that reached up to her window. “Don’t you get it, we…”
Agatha didn’t hear the rest. Without warning, a big body slammed into her from behind, knocking her to the ground. She rolled a few feet, only to be stopped by a bush.
She groaned, sitting up with aching bones and looked around to see what hit her, but she saw nothing.
It must be the Creature, she thought. She pulled out her knife and stood up in a way she saw princes standing in the illustrated fairy tales when they were facing an opponent. Legs slightly apart, knees bent, shoulders up, sword in hand, light on your feet, stab fast when you see the…
She didn’t see it. The second blow came from her right side, knocking her over again. She tried to hold onto the knife, but it slipped from her fingers, ending up somewhere in the dark where she couldn’t see it. Just like the enemy that she planned to overtake.
“I’m coming, hold on!” She heard Sophie yell and there was rustling and a hard ‘thud’ as her friend climbed down and landed on the ground. Agatha felt a rush of happiness, knowing her friend was coming to help her. Then Sophie ran past her and towards the shadows cast by bushes and trees.
“Wait, I’m here, you can take me away!”, she yelled, picking up her fancy dress, so she can run faster. “My suitcases are up in my room, if you would be so kind and bring them down, that would be…”
Agatha quickly reached after her and managed to grab her ankle. Sophie faceplanted into the ground with a shriek.
“Get off of me!”, she tried to kick Agatha’s hand away. “He’s here for me, can’t you see? He’s a prince, the most handsome one I’ve ever seen. You won’t ruin my chances of becoming a princess!”
“I’m saving your life, you idiot!”, Agatha yelled back, as she wrestled Sophie to the ground. She didn’t know what prince her friend was talking about, she saw nothing and no one.
Why is nobody coming?, she thought. We are loud enough to be heard, why…?
But she knew why. The people of Gavaldon feared the Creature that takes the children away. And now that two were offered to it on a silver platter, the others just needed to wait it out and stay low.
Agatha gritted her teeth. A moment later, she was knocked over for the third time, but this time she didn’t reach the ground. She felt claws close round her middle, something grabbed her and she was up in the air, seeing Sophie and the garden get smaller and smaller beneath her. She was too shocked to even scream.
Then, whatever was holding her, this invisible Creature, took a sharp turn and dipped back down. Agatha’s stomach was left behind, and the garden was approaching by an alarming speed. Now, Agatha found her voice and it echoed through the streets of Gavaldon.
Sophie stood up and reached her arms out. The invisible Creature grabbed her too, flying upwards again, over the forest.

The wind messed Agatha’s hair up and crept under her clothes, but she was too frightened to care about such things. She was hanging in the air, flying above the forest she never dared to wander into and she couldn’t even see what was holding her!
As she looked to the side, she saw that Sophie was equally terrified, the joyful look now wiped from her face.
This is your magical prince on a white horse, taking you to his palace, Agatha thought with a small tinge of schadenfreude. Aren’t you happy to be in his arms?
They were flying for so long, Agatha stopped being afraid and started being bored. She wanted to talk to Sophie, but she could only shout to be heard over the wind and the flapping of giant wings…
Giant wings?!
Agatha realized that not only was the sun rising, but the Creature holding them became visible now. It was a bird, a giant bird, made entirely out of bones, even the wings that were flapping tirelessly. Magic makes it fly, Agatha thought. Around her middle, giant boneclaws were visible now.
“Aggie! Aggie, look!” Sophie pointed forward and Agatha followed her gaze. She couldn’t help but gasp as she saw the buildings.
Both looked like a castle from the books they had in school, with pointed towers, chapels, and balconies, around them a big lake, making the castles look like small islands. One of them was built of white marble, the windows clean and the sky clear above it. The other was black and burnt, as if it catched on fire a few years ago and no one cared to fix it; the windows were grimy and broken, the air smoky and grey around it. One could only enter these buildings through the bridges that went over the water around them, or if they swam through the water, to the shore of the castle.
There was a third building, a singular, tall, slim tower, between the two castles. As soon as Agatha looked at it, she heard a voice.
“In the forest primeval
A school for good and evil
Two towers like twin heads
One for the pure
One for the wicked
Try to escape, you’ll always fail
The only way out is
Through a fairy tail.”
The voice came out of nowhere. A young man’s voice, almost singing the words.
“You heard that too?”, Agatha shouted, tearing her eyes away from the tower and the approaching castles. Sophie nodded, but she didn’t look at her friend.
They were headed towards the beautiful, marble castle, and Sophie smiled wider and wider; Agatha saw it, because she was watching her, trying to commit her features to her memory, in case they never get to see each other again.
When the bird let her go, the last thing she saw was the horrified look on Sophie’s face. Not because Agatha was falling, but because she wasn’t.
As Agatha plunged into the cold, clean water, she immediately kicked herself upwards, to the air. She saw the bonebird flying towards the other castle, with Sophie still in its claws, and she heard her friend scream.
“I am the princess! Let me go! Somebody heeelp!”

Agatha never properly learned how to swim, and now she was in a fosse. She also never had a friend before, and Sophie was carried away by a giant bonebird in front of her. She had many reasons to panic and she did. She could barely keep her head above water, she kicked and dived poorly, not getting closer to the shore at all. Her drenched clothes pulled her down and her mouth filled with cold water, and soon blocked her vision as well. Or maybe it was the tears.
She was convinced she’s done for, when a pair of arms grabbed her and pulled her by her cloak to the shore. The sand under her hands and knees felt like a blessing and Agatha was sure that if she wasn’t heaving and coughing up water from her lungs, she would kiss the land.
“What’s this?”, she heard a chirping voice.
“I don’t know. I just saw someone drowning and I…’
“You jumped in to save it? Aww, Tedros, you’re such a hero!”
Agatha felt a palm pat her back with some force, and she was able to cough up the rest of the water. When she could finally breathe, she sat back on her calves and took a look at her saviour and those around her.
There were a dozen people, looking like younger versions of princes and princesses from the fairy tales, but only one was just as drenched as Agatha. A boy, about her age, without his shirt on. He was muscular and tan, his skin as perfect as it can be; his hair was a golden blond, it reminded Agatha of Sophie’s, just a tad bit darker. His face didn’t fully lose its childlike roundness yet, but his blue eyes looked older. It struck Agatha as a strange duality, but she didn’t dwell on it, because the realization hit her.
This boy was a prince.
She immediately sneered, showing her teeth like a wolf would.
“Oh, thorns and spinning wheels, look at that face!”, one of the girls half-whispered. “What is this, a human crow?”
“Beatrix, don’t be like this! What would you look like if you were pulled from the fosse after almost drowning?”, spoke up one of the boys, but before Beatrix could get upset, he sported a charming smile and a wink. “Who am I kidding, you would still be as beautiful as ever.”
The girls giggled, except for Beatrix, who didn’t even spare a glance at the red-headed boy. He didn’t try to get her attention again, instead he kneeled down to Agatha and took off his blue and white long coat, offering it to her.
“You’ll catch a cold if you stay in your wet clothes”, he said. Up close, his face was slightly freckled and his hair looked as soft as cotton candy.
“I’d rather… sniff… stay in my own… sniff… than wear a damn prince’s cloak”, Agatha managed to say between wheezes. She was cold, but she was not planning to accept the offer.
“As you wish”, the boy shrugged. Then he looked over at Agatha’s saviour. “Tedros?”
Tedros was already standing. He scoffed, crossing his arms, as if even the idea offended him.
“I have my own, I don’t need yours!”
To prove his point, he started to look for his own clothes. With a sly smile, Beatrix handed them to him.
“I put some of my perfume on it, just in case you want to remember my fragrance while I’m away from you”, she said.
Agatha gagged, which earned her a murderous glance from Beatrix.
“Who are you?”, asked the red-haired boy, still on one knee in front of Agatha.
“None of your business. I’m not supposed to be here!”
He gave Agatha a once-over.
“You don’t look like a princess. You really do kinda look like a crow.”
“At least I don’t look like a matchstick!”, Agatha snapped.
The boy's face went red and he stood up. Now he looks even more like a matchstick, Agatha thought. Or a tomato. Without a word, he walked away and so did the others, only Tedros remained. He didn’t seem to acknowledge the look Beatrix gave him over her shoulder, as if expecting him to follow her.
‘A ‘thank you’ would be nice to hear”, he said. His voice was full of arrogance and confidence. Agatha pursed her lips together. I’m not thanking a prince for anything, she thought.
“Really? You’re that stubborn? Or ill-mannered. I have half the mind to bring you to the Dean to report you as an intruder, you know. She would kick you out in a heartbeat, into the forest and…”
Agatha jumped up with surprising speed, even startling the prince.
“The Dean?”
Tedros grimaced and crossed his arms.
“Yes, Dean Dovey. Intruders are sent back where they came from… Hey, where are you going?”
Without wasting a moment, Agatha started to hurry towards the castle.
“To the Dean!”, she called back over her shoulder. “So she can send us back where we came from.”