Archive of Our Own

“…and then, while Floyd got bored, mid-dribble, he just stopped. While he was standing there, arms folded and looking bored as all get out, the Llama’s defense took a few seconds to recover from what had just happened. It was easy peasy to intercept the ball and bang out two more points!”

It wasn’t unusual for Riddle to overhear conversations between students in the lounge, especially from those in sports clubs, like Ace. While it was less common to hear this sort of bragging from Deuce, Riddle was well aware of his accomplishments. He’d even been honored in a ceremony. And students on the Spelldrive team were quick to disparage their opponents, whether it be interdorm practice or against other schools.

What was unusual—not just unusual, but completely out of place—was the voice that replied to Ace’s boast.

“You also went completely out of bounds in the first quarter, Crabby.”

Floyd.

Riddle would recognize his voice anywhere. He’d been a constant thorn in Riddle’s side since the day they’d met (who in all of Twisted Wonderland thought it was appropriate to grab another person’s hair, let alone a complete stranger’s?). He’d pressed every button Riddle had, whether it be about his height (one of Floyd’s favorite things to tease him about) or his hair or the way his face grew red with rage.

Or the things Riddle ate (or more specifically, the things he didn’t eat. Floyd had dragged Riddle over to the dessert table on Halloween, insisting that Riddle’s denial of wanting even a taste of cake was ‘a bunch of hooey.’

Perhaps that was one area where Riddle hadn’t been quite as annoyed with him, but that didn’t mean Floyd’s presence was welcome in the one place that should have been completely Floyd-free).

“Goldfishiiieeeee!”

So much for Riddle’s brief, internal debate on whether to head to his room while Floyd’s attention was otherwise occupied, or whether he should forcibly evict him from the premises.

“I assume you have an adequate explanation for your presence here?”

“Aw, the way you say that makes you sound like you want me to leave.”

“He’s here with me!” Ace hurried to explain. “He’s helping me with homework. For music class,” he added hastily, knowing that, despite Riddle’s perfect grades, the arts weren’t his strongest subjects.

“And how, pray tell, are tales from the basketball court in any way furthering your musical education?”

It was the wrong thing to say, because Floyd immediately picked up a couple of pencils and began drumming on the nearest textbook.

“Dribbling is like drumming!” Ace blurted out.

Floyd gave him an annoyed look, and he tossed the pencils on the table and stood up.

“Whatcha doin’, Goldfishie?”

Escorting you to the mirror, Riddle considered replying. Floyd had a legitimate, school-related reason to be in the Heartslabyul dorm, however. If he really was assisting Ace with his musicology, then Riddle would tolerate his presence.

For now.

“Going to my room to study,” Riddle said instead.

Not even five minutes later, Riddle regretted not going with his first impulse.

“Whaaa? Is Goldfishie getting a snack instead of studying?”

Of course, Floyd would catch Riddle indulging in a slice of strawberry tart (which was the tiniest of slivers, compared to the massive slabs consumed by most students) that had been left after the previous day’s unbirthday party, instead of a cup of tea or at least something that contained omega-3s for better neuronal communication.

(Riddle was very, very familiar with the benefits of omega-3s, and the exact amounts needed for his age and size.)

Regardless, he refused to acknowledge Floyd’s teasing.

“What are you doing in our kitchen? Where’s Ace?”

“He’s practicing the recorder,” Floyd said. “He’s really bad at it,” he added, wrinkling his nose.

“That doesn’t answer why you are here instead of in the lounge correcting Ace’s musical failings.”

Floyd shook his head. “I can only teach him how to fix his breathing. I’m pretty good at it, since, when we first came got to the Sunshine Lands, I had to learn how breathin’ with my lungs instead of my gills worked. You shoulda seen Azul! He got winded way faster than me and Jade!”

Which was an amusing bit of information to have learned, but Floyd was still here in the kitchen instead of in the lounge with Ace.

“And Crabby’s gotta practice to get better. I can’t move his fingers for him.” Floyd moved to stand behind Riddle and stretched his arms around Riddle, as if Riddle were holding an instrument instead of a fork. “He’s not tiny like you.”

It took all of Riddle’s self-control to refrain from throwing Floyd across the room, but that didn’t mean he would allow this sort of casual familiarity. Who did Floyd Leech think he was, anyway?

“Floyd, I’m trying to eat,” he said through gritted teeth.

To his surprise, Floyd took a step back and sat next to him instead. “I knew you were a closeted snacker. You and Azul, you’re like two shells on a clam.”

Riddle had never been fond of any comparisons between himself and Azul, but especially not now, after Floyd’s comment on Azul’s tendency to get winded easily.

“Azul and I have little in common.”

“Yeah, you’re much tinier than he is.”

“I still have a few more years to grow!”

Floyd had the nerve to pat him on the head. “Keep tellin’ yourself that, Goldfishie, and I might have to start callin’ you Shrimpie.” When Riddle started to sputter in outrage, Floyd had the added temerity to grin at him. “Don’t worry, I’m just kidding. You’ll always be Goldfishie to me.”

Riddle set his fork down, but as soon as he started to push his plate away, Floyd reached out and grabbed the side of it, preventing it from moving any further.

“Don’t stop eating just ‘cuz I’m teasing you. I like seeing you eat something you actually enjoy.”

Before Riddle could reply, a discordant sound came from the direction of the lounge, and Floyd winced.

“Looks like I gotta straighten Crabby out again. He’s gonna blow his brain out through his ears if he keeps blowing on the recorder like that.”

Riddle watched him leave, and then he glared at his plate, and at the rest of the tart he hadn’t yet finished. Floyd had infuriated Riddle, but that was nothing new. It was no reason to take out his anger on an innocent slice of tart, one that Riddle had been looking forward to all day. He quickly finished what was left on his plate, washed his dish and his fork, and decided that he needed a walk in the garden to refresh himself before studying.

And, perhaps, stop by to tend to the hedgehogs as well.

On his way to the hedgehog pen, he passed the small pond where the flamingos were gathered. They were brightly colored, as they should be, which meant his card soldiers were upholding the Queen of Hearts rules regarding their colors. It was also excellent practice in the use of their color-changing magic.

One of the flamingos—Duchess, the bossy one—lifted her head, water dripping from her beak. She seemed to be looking right at Riddle, making direct eye contact despite her eyes being on opposite sides of her bright pink head. And then, she dipped her beak right back into the pond water, leaving Riddle wondering what that had been all about.

When he reached the hedgehog pen, he was glad to see the gate was securely latched. Most of them were sleeping, but one of them was snuffling around, only stopping when it reached one of the shallow water dishes near its nest.

“You were quite splendid,” Riddle murmured. “I appreciate your efforts to remain curled in a ball as you sailed through the wicket.”

“Silly Goldfishie, they can’t operate boats if they’re curled in a ball. You should know that after all that rowin’ you did on your field trip with Jade to the Sunshine Lands,” he added.

Riddle whirled around. It was beyond frustrating how Floyd (and Jade, too, for that matter) often managed to appear as if out of nowhere, moving as silently as a shadow. And on top of that, Floyd was obviously making fun of Riddle’s prowess, or lack thereof, of handling the rowboat at the wedding Jade had manipulated them all into attending.

(It had been frustrating when the waves had forced Riddle to lose control of the boat, but up until then, Riddle had started enjoying himself. And Jade had been just as devious when instructing Malleus, of all people, how to row without using magic. There really was no limit to either twins’ penchant for mischief.)

“Floyd! What are you doing here?”

“Watchin’ you watchin’ that dog.”

“Dog? You mean the hedgehog?”

Floyd shrugged. “Ah, yeah, now that I see it up close, I can see that it’s more spiky than furry.”

The fact that Floyd was here, at the hedgehog pen—the place Riddle often went to escape his headaches—and close enough to peer over Riddle’s shoulder to study the hedgehog closely, was enough to tempt Riddle to remind Floyd that he could certainly forcibly evict Floyd from the garden with magic.

However, it was against the rules in the student handbook to use magic for personal disputes.

He settled for elbowing Floyd in the ribs instead.

“Ow, Goldfishie, I just wanted to see the hedgedog.”

“Hedgehog.”

“Are they all blue like this one?”

“No,” Riddle said. “But you can’t play croquet without seven colored flamingos as mallets and a hedgehog for a ball. The hedgehogs are therefore colored to match the flamingos.”

“Different colored flamingos?” Floyd perked up. “This, I gotta see!”

He should escort Floyd back to the lounge. Or to the mirror. But Riddle was proud of Heartslabyul and all of its traditions, and the flamingos were one small part of that. And he did want to check on Duchess again, to see if her unusual behavior was due to any sort of illness.

“One must be in perfect sync with one’s hedgehog and flamingo,” Riddle said.

“So then that yellow one running our way,” Floyd said. “That’s not the one that goes with the little blue guy.”

Indeed, Duchess was making a beeline right toward them, coming to an abrupt stop in front of Floyd and eyeing him in an almost threatening manner.

“This one’s hilarious!” Floyd said. “I think it wants to fight me.” He cracked his knuckles, and Duchess lowered her head and bumped it against Floyd’s midsection before taking a step back.

“She wants no such thing,” Riddle said, unable to conceal his amusement. “Flamingos are very social, and Duchess seems to be a very good judge of character.”

“Duchess, huh?”

“One of the duchesses who served in the court of the Queen of Hearts was an avid croquet player.”

“Just one of them?”

“I’m sure they all enjoyed the game, but one was rumored to be mad for it. Now, Duchess, let’s get you back to the pond.”

Duchess walked ahead, but every few steps, she’d stop and make sure they were still following her.

“She’s behaving rather curiously,” Riddle said, half to himself.

“Why? ‘Cuz she’s making sure you’re being a good li’l goldfish?”

“Stop calling me that ridiculous nickname!”

This time, when Duchess stopped, she turned entirely around and marched up to them both.

“See?” Floyd said. “She likes when I call you my little goldfish!”

At that, Duchess seemed somewhat mollified, and she resumed walking toward the pond.

“There is clearly something wrong with her,” Riddle said, but he was more concerned by her odd behavior than annoyed. “She’s never acted this way before.”

“Maybe she likes me.”

Riddle was barely paying attention. He was lost in thought, considering what books he might find in the library that would contain information on odd flamingo behaviors and if they were symptoms of something more serious. A vet from Sage Island made periodic, supervised visits to check on the wellbeing of the animals, but never had one acted like this, in all the time Riddle had attended Night Raven College.

Perhaps Cater or Trey had some knowledge, if something had happened during their freshman year.

When Duchess was safely back at the pond, and Riddle and Floyd had returned to the lounge, Ace was shuffling a deck of cards. Chattering stopped abruptly, and when Ace noticed Riddle standing there, arms crossed, with Floyd Leech at his side, he looked stricken.

“I’m done practicing!” he said.

“Then we would love to hear the results of your efforts,” Riddle said sweetly.

Floyd shared an amused glance with Riddle. It was a small thing, but it felt like a small victory had just been won.

When Riddle asked at breakfast the following day, neither Cater nor Trey could recall any of the flamingos being ill. And when Riddle described her odd behavior, neither of them found it very concerning.

“It’s probably just because Floyd was here,” Cater suggested.

“What makes you say that?” Riddle asked.

Instead of answering, Cater turned his phone around. There, on Magicam, was a video clip of Duchess chasing Floyd around the Mostro Lounge, while Jade stood there doing his best to appear concerned.

Azul was nowhere in the clip, but Riddle was sure that he was offscreen, calculating what Riddle would owe him for returning the bird. Floyd had obviously taken Duchess from Heartslabyul at some point. He’d probably stepped right back through the mirror without anyone noticing and lured Duchess with some shrimp.

Therefore, it was Octavinelle’s debt to be repaid!

“Riddle,” Trey said, placing his hand on Riddle’s shoulder. “The important thing is that Duchess is fine. In fact, she seems to be having the time of her life.”

That was a generous description of a five second clip, but Duchess appeared to be unharmed. Even if Floyd seemed to be enjoying the chase, Duchess had clearly been suspicious of him. Obviously, they needed to have her returned; she wouldn’t make a very good croquet mallet if she wore herself out playing tag with Floyd Leech.

If that were the case, the debt that Octavinelle owed would be even greater.

The important thing is that Duchess is fine, Trey had said just that morning.

She was not fine. She snapped at Riddle, and she’d never done such a thing before. Riddle would have Floyd’s head for this. And Azul’s, too, for not ensuring her safe return sooner!

And on top of that, she was marching back and forth, outside History of Magic, causing a ruckus in the hall when Lucius decided to chase her.

“I did not think flamingos could run that fast,” Jade commented.

“I didn’t think Professor Red Squid could run that fast,” Floyd added, as Trein hurried down the hall, calling his cat.

“This is your fault!” Riddle snapped. “She was perfectly fine before you abducted her!”

“Whaa? I didn’t take her. She just showed up and started chasin’ me, all the way to the Hall of Mirrors. Not my fault she followed me through there, too. I tried to get Jade to help me, but he was too busy laughing.”

“I found the situation most distressing,” Jade protested, but his barely concealed grin belied his words. “Oh, look, they’re returning.”

Duchess was barreling right toward them, with Lucius in hot pursuit and Trein lagging behind them both.

“Lucius,” Trein scolded. “Don’t run off like that again. As for you three,” he said. “Who is responsible for this bird?”

Riddle swallowed. “I am, sir. He is one of Heartslabyul’s flamingos.”

Trein frowned. “I expected more from you, Rosehearts.”

“Yes, sir. I accept full responsibility.”

“It’s not Goldfishie’s fault,” Floyd cut in. “I accidentally birdnapped her and she got all fussy.”

“I don’t see how one commits accidental theft, but I expect to see an essay on that topic from you on my desk tomorrow. Now, no loitering in the hall. I’m sure you all have classes to attend.”

It was, fortunately, flight class, so Duchess’ presence wasn’t the distraction it would have been in a classroom setting. In fact, Vargas was thrilled. He tried coaxing Duchess to demonstrate what real flying looked like, but she was too busy marching around, as if looking for something.

Or someone.

It wasn’t until the third day of Duchess’ odd behavior that Cater suggested something even more ridiculous than Floyd’s claim of accidental abduction.

“But Duchess isn’t a goose,” Trey said.

“And soulmates don’t exist,” Riddle added.

“Well,” Trey said. “Maybe Cater has a point. Not everyone believes in ghosts, but we know they’re real. They’ve taught me a lot about teaching others to cook.”

“This isn’t about ghosts, or cooking, or geese.”

“I’m not saying it’s definitely a soulmate thing,” Cater said. “I’m just using that as an example. Maybe instead of a soulmate goose of enforcement, Duchess is like your flamingo of friendship.”

“Floyd and I are not friends.”

“Bingo,” Cater said.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Riddle said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have equestrian practice.”

Cater was being ridiculous. If Duchess’ behavior wasn’t so concerning, Riddle would have laughed at the very suggestion of a flamingo of friendship. If it were something he’d picked up on Magicam, Riddle was truly glad he barely used his own account.

“Soulmate goose of enforcement,” Silver repeated slowly. “I’ve never heard of such a thing. Fa—Lilia may have, though, in his travels.”

“It’s from a folk tale,” Riddle said quickly. “Or at least, so I’ve been told.”

Sebek cleared his throat, and when no one said anything, he cleared it again, more loudly.

“I’ve read about a horse that may have had ‘matchmaking’ tendencies.”

“You have?” Silver asked. “Where?”

“When Riddle and the others were stuck in the library, I became interested in the tale of the Princess in the Tower. Some accounts included reference to a horse.”

“Like Vorpal?” Silver asked.

“No, not like Vorpal! It just nudged the thief to encourage him to dance with the princess!”

“There’s a story like that with the mermaid princess and a crab.”

Riddle could feel his scalp tingle, and he just knew his hair—especially the two most prominent locks—was standing on end.

“Floyd!” he said, whirling around. “Stop sneaking up on me!”

“I wasn’t! It’s not like I wanted to be here!”

“Then why are you—”

Of course, there was Duchess, who was head butting Floyd and forcing him closer to Riddle, Silver and Sebek.

“Like that, Sebek?” Silver asked.

“How do I know? It just said nudged; it didn’t say headbutted!”

“I’m not sure how else it could have pushed them together.”

“A crab couldn’t have even done that,” Silver mused.

“He didn’t do any kind of pushing or nudging,” Floyd said. “He sang.”

Silver nodded. “There is something about singing with my animal friends that lifts my spirits.”

“The mermaid princess didn’t do any singing. She couldn’t even talk. That’s why the crab had to do it for her, urging the prince from the Sunshine Lands to kiss her.”

“That’s ridiculous!”

Although, with the way Duchess had been acting lately, maybe ridiculous wasn’t the right word to describe a crab serenading a prince on behalf of a voiceless princess.

“Those jumps were crazy!” Floyd said as they all, including Duchess, walked toward the Hall of Mirrors. “You’re one powerful Goldfishie.”

“Riddle excels in all equestrian events! Why, he easily outmaneuvered the rider from the Imperial Llama during our last eventing!”

“And what did you do, Croc?”

“Dressage,” Silver answered quickly. “Sebek is quite skilled at dressage, especially since this is his first year.”

“Dressing? Is that like horses putting on a fashion show?”

“Dressage is not a fashion show!” Sebek sputtered, stopping in his tracks. “And Silver, stop using my shoulder as a pillow!”

Riddle rubbed his forehead. Between the exhaustion from making those jumps, Duchess’s odd behavior, and Sebek’s rudeness, he was ready to leave everyone behind, have a cup of herbal tea, and relax in his room.

Of course, both Floyd and Duchess had other ideas.

“Must you walk so close to me?” Riddle snapped the third time Floyd bumped into him.

“I’m not tryin’ to! Yellow Pelican keeps bumping into me!”

“She is not a pelican; she’s a flamingo!”

“She’s a moody bird, is what she is.”

Riddle looked behind them, at where Sebek was standing with his arms crossed over his chest, Silver’s head resting on his shoulder. He might’ve asked Silver to talk to Duchess, considering his affinity for animals and especially birds, but it wasn’t exactly something he could have said in front of Floyd.

And of course, it was anyone’s guess how long Silver would be asleep, or how long Sebek would permit him to continue sleeping.

“So, Goldfishie,” Floyd said. “You really beat those Llama guys with this event thing?”

“Eventing,” Riddle corrected. “And my scores were higher, yes.”

Floyd grinned at him. “Good.”

Riddle was flushed with warmth, and this time, it wasn’t because he was angry.

Soulmates.

Two halves of a soul that had been split apart. Two sides of a single coin. Two people meant for each other, through the whims of fate.

Riddle couldn’t imagine such a thing. The relationship between his own parents was rather formal. Was it because they’d been destined to be together? Were the rules of soulmates such that one was bound to the other regardless of affection?

It was inconceivable.

No, it was horrible.

In fact, it would be best if soulmates didn’t exist at all.

“I told you she likes me.”

Riddle sighed. There was no escaping the fact that Duchess was simply happier and more content when she could bully Floyd. And, since Duchess was here at Heartslabyul, that meant that Floyd was, too.

And that also meant that he followed Riddle to the hedgehog pen when Riddle wanted to spend time with them. It meant that Riddle eventually allowed Floyd to hold one of them, to see how Floyd’s face lit up in delight when Riddle gave him permission to pet the hedgehog, giving him explicit instructions that Floyd actually followed.

It was the way Floyd found everything about Heartslabyul—save its 810 rules—fascinating.

He liked the rose maze.

He liked tending to the hedgehogs with Riddle.

He liked—no, he absolutely loved—the way the interior of the dorm kept changing whenever he was there.

And somehow, in the background, along with a stubborn yellow flamingo, Floyd’s presence became familiar.

Comfortable.

Which was, paradoxically, discomfiting.

But not enough to put an end to it.

The sun was low in the horizon, turning the sky orange. Riddle and Floyd stood less than a meter from the water’s edge, while Duchess marched back and forth behind them, forcing them to take a few more steps forward.

“She wants us to go in the water,” Floyd said. He sat on the ground and removed his shoes and socks, then rolled his pants up several times. When he was done, he patted the ground next to him.

With a sigh, Riddle joined him, and once they were both barefoot, Duchess resumed her nudging, resting her chin on top of Riddle's head and marching forward so Riddle had no choice but to move with her. She kept that up until Riddle’s toes touched the water. Floyd reached for Riddle’s hand, and Riddle didn’t pull away. What was the point?

Once the water was lapping at their ankles, Duchess began preening herself. It was so blatantly dismissive, Riddle couldn’t help laughing. Flamingo of friendship was far too generous a description.

For all Riddle knew, Duchess was watching them, ready to chase them back into the pond the moment they set foot back on dry land. Perhaps she was merely demonstrating her satisfaction in driving them into the pond together.

The water shimmered beneath the light of the setting sun. It was rather pretty.

“Hey, Goldfishie, remember when Manta Ray made everyone make lanterns because you were all stuck in the library?”

“Of course I remember. I was there.”

When Kalim had foolishly leaned out of the library window to catch a lantern, one that had imprisoned them nearly the entire day, it had caused them no end of trouble. And yet, at the end of the ordeal, after Riddle had ridden Vorpal to the wharf to reach the borrowed boat, Riddle had found the sight of all the lanterns breathtaking. It had been easy to see why the Princess in the Tower had been compelled to defy the woman she’d long believed to be her mother.

After lighting the final—which had also been the very first—lantern and sending it to join the others in the sky, Riddle had wondered if there would be a day when he, too, would encounter something that turned his life upside-down the way the sight of the lanterns—and the companionship of the thief—had done for the princess.

Flamingos and geese of soulmate enforcement were nonsense. The same went for matchmaking horses and crabs. Even if such things truly existed, Riddle and Floyd were both too young, both still in school…

But then, according to some accounts, the Princess in the Tower had just turned eighteen herself.

Floyd gave Riddle’s fingers a squeeze, and when Riddle looked up at his face, Floyd’s smile was softer, gentler.

“You looked real pretty that day,” Floyd said. “But Goldfishie always looks pretty to me.”

There was nothing in Floyd’s voice that indicated that he was teasing. The way Floyd was looking at him, Riddle felt like he actually was the Princess in the Tower and not just playacting as he had that day.

And Floyd had a knack for catching Riddle off guard, for saying and doing things that seemed contrary, between the teasing and the occasional praise and the insistence that Riddle enjoy a dessert once in a while.

Everything about Floyd turned Riddle’s life at least a little bit upside-down.

They were standing in the lake, not at the edge of the sea. There was no cacophony of geese or gulls, and there was no singing crab.

And yet, Riddle found himself leaning toward Floyd. Or perhaps Floyd had leaned closer to him. Regardless, the touch of their lips had Riddle standing on the balls of his feet, his toes digging into the mud just to get closer to Floyd.

Was Floyd truly his soulmate? Kissing wasn’t unpleasant, and Floyd was certainly handsome. If Duchess was some sort of magical enforcer of soulmate bonds, how would Mother react to the news?

Did she even believe in soulmates? Riddle had never seen any sign of affection between his parents.

Floyd brushed Riddle’s hair away from his face. “You’re thinking too loud, Goldfishie.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Nah,” Floyd said. “That’s my Goldfishie.”

With that, he kissed Riddle again.

If they were going to embark on this soulmate business, Riddle would need to ensure that Floyd did not think that he could kiss Riddle any time he wanted. There had to be some sort of rules about kissing—or at the very least, this whole business of soulmates!

It was difficult to consider what those rules might be, however, when Floyd’s tongue was licking the roof of Riddle’s mouth.

Besides, Duchess, the current arbiter of soulmates, wasn’t making a fuss, so they were obviously doing something right.