Chapter Text
Once upon a time, in the Endless Woods, there lived a Prince, a Princess, and a Witch.
The Prince wished, more than anything, more than life, for his one True Love.
The Princess wished… for her Prince.
The Witch wished, more than for fame or for fortune, that she would have–
“Sophie?”
Sophie pulls her gaze away from the bloody Storian in Evelyn's hand and spots her mother. Everything feels hazy, like her head is full of cotton.
For a moment, Sophie is convinced that this is a dream. If she wakes up, her mother will still be dead, and Agatha will have never left her for Tedros.
“It doesn’t have to end this way.” Vanessa's head tilts, something akin to fondness crossing her face. “You don't have to be alone. You don’t have to be heartbroken.”
With both hands, Sophie wipes a seemingly never-ending stream of tears off her cheeks. She curls in on herself, her sobs rolling and echoing through the clearing.
“You don't want this!” Agatha screams out from the tree line. “Sophie, please don't do this.”
“Everyone says I’m like you,” Sophie whispers as she approaches her mother. “I don't know if I want to be you anymore.”
“You don't want this, Filip,” Tedros cries, echoing Agatha's claims. Yanking at his restraints, attempting to reach the sword buried in the dirt in front of him. “That is not your mother. Evelyn is just trying to use you, Sophie.”
“I wished for you to come back so many times,” she says, ignoring them both. “Why now?”
Her mother pauses in thought before answering. “Because it wasn’t meant to happen until now.”
“So all of this…” Sophie shakes her head, heart breaking. “All the pain I wrought, all the pain we suffered… it was just meant to be? Everything happened how it should have, and you're just… fine with it?”
“Sometimes that’s how the story goes.” Vanessa sighs. “All the people who made it happen that way chose to perform their parts. And now you, too, have a choice.”
“I saw you die, broken-hearted and betrayed,” Sophie mumbles into her mother’s chest, pressing as tightly against her as she can. “I let him get away with it. How can you forgive me?”
Vanessa strokes her hair soothingly. “I love you, Sophie. It doesn’t matter what you do, I will always love you.”
Sophie lets out a desperate sigh. “I don’t deserve you, Agatha. I really don’t. Not after everything I’ve done.”
A thick, heavy silence settles into the air. Sophie looks up, watching disappointment seep into Vanessa’s expression.
“I’m sorry,” Sophie whispers as she leans towards her mother's magic, their palms now intertwined. Then she frowns. Did her mother have magic…? Sophie’s pretty sure she didn’t. She would’ve remembered that.
Sophie then looks up at her mother, forcing a smile. “I just… I can’t imagine you could bear it if my father moved on. The wedding should’ve happened already. Honora, if you can believe it.”
“I have you.” A woman who is not Sophie’s mother smiles down at her. “Isn’t that enough?”
Sophie’s attempt at a smile faltered for a second. Her mother loved Stefan more than life itself, more than her own daughter.
“You’re a liar,” Sophie says, her voice wavering. She tries to step back subtly, but the air between them shifts. “They’re right, aren’t they? You’re Evelyn.”
“Not Evelyn.” Evelyn laughs, pointing to where Sader still stands. “A person can’t be in two places at once, especially after an injury like that.”
Liar. Liar. Liar.
“You don't know what to do, do you, Sophie? Or is it Filip now? I always did want a son named Filip.” Evelyn’s taunting her now. Sophie bristles, hands clenched into knuckle-white fists, her nails digging into Evelyn’s arms.“Shut up. Just shut up.”
Evelyn pauses at the words, seemingly taken aback at Sophie’s sharp words — or maybe just from the blood starting to run down her hands from Sophie’s grip. “I’ll kill you,” Sophie snarls. “I’ll kill you for wearing her face.”
“Of course, Sophie,” Evelyn snarls back, trapping Sophie’s hands and pushing them back until she lets out a yelp of pain. “I just wanted a kiss. I just wanted to give you your Happily Ever After. You ungrateful wench.”
“Stop wearing her face, I don’t want–” Sophie mumbles. The pain in her forearm burns, and her resolve weakens.
Sophie can only watch as the glamour fades in front of her. Still clawing at their intertwined forearms, trying to get out of the vise-like grip, she witnesses smooth, ghostly pale skin morph into a soft, supple, tan hand—a prince’s hand.
A familiar prince's hand. Not Evelyn.
“School Master, I see that dying did wonders for you.” Sophie hurls at him. “ I love your skin, it’s practically glowing. What do you use, readers' blood? Oh, mine must've done wonders for you.”
“The same could be said for you. You ghastly hag. How was that kiss, by the way? " He snips back, grip loosening. “All that you wanted and more?”
“Agatha frankly needed balm, but thanks for asking, you cunt.” she whines out.
“Oh, I meant Tedros, but whatever floats your boat.” Sophie rolls her eyes and feels the back of her neck burn in embarrassment.
“We didn’t kiss! I don’t know how many times I have to say it!” Sophie watches as he preens at their banter.
Pleased at her embarrassment, the School Master ducked his head down to get a better look at her. “Though I’d rather we not fight. Please, call me Rafal. It’s a privilege only a few get.”
“Cunt Rafal. Tragic, your mother must have hated you.” Sophie hisses as she looks straight at him. His eyes are filled with hurt at her words.“Is that why you tried to be mine?”
“Forgive me, Sophie. You wouldn’t kiss me if I were… well, like this.” He was tearing at the seams and in need of her. He caressed her hair, and her resolve weakened as she hopelessly craved. “I don’t know if you love me or not. I thought after last time–”
Sophie cuts in and lets out a cackle at that horrible plan. “Hunting me down for our Never After didn't work. So, pretending to be my mother was your solution. ‘I will do anything to see my mother again.’ You were going to use me.”
“I just want what’s mine. Plus, use is such a strong term. Persuade, really,” Rafal hums, as he rests his head on her shoulder.
There was something eerie about how pretty his words were, how pretty he is. Yet something was off at the edges of his ghostly form; his entire personality was off, flip-flopping like a fish that got thrown onto land.
“I do mean you no harm. I couldn’t if I wanted to, " he adds, as if that is enough. Maybe it is. “True loves can't hurt each other, not in the way that matters.”
She opened her mouth to ask the burning questions on her mind, “Then why did you kill me with the Storian? Why not say that from the start? Why pretend?”
Rafal’s face pinched with discomfort, he smooths some hair out of his face, staring intently at Sophie as if for a hint to the correct answer. “I was trying to kill Agatha, my dear. And…I have never been enough for someone's love. I was punished for it, even. But you, you understand me more than anyone else.”
It's like looking into a shitty mirror, Sophie thought.
Unease twists in Sophie’s gut as she watches Rafal’s face sink with pain as he reminisces, it makes her feel sick. She hadn’t known it would be him, she thought–It doesn’t matter what she thought. It seems the Storian had someone else for her in mind.
Rafal. The Schoolmaster, the sole twin left behind.
Not Agatha.
Not Tedros.
Never, Tedros.
“Do you remember what I told you before Agatha came to the tower? I have been waiting for you, and I will love you more than she ever could,” Rafal says, hope dangling on every word. “I saw how you clung to Agatha, a witch and a princess. Friends. I can be something more than a friend to you.”
“I was happy with her, Rafal,” Sophie says, softly grabbing his face so their eyes are interlocked. “I was fine being happy, and her being–”
“But you wanted more; she ignored your wants. I saw how unhappy you were with your family. Everyone should adore you as I do,” Rafal interjects, hastily kneeling in front of her. “I don’t need you to be perfect. I just want you to be my princess, my bride, my true love, mine.”
Sophie didn’t know how to feel. Parts of her were ecstatic that she was loved, and needed. She longs to be seen and wanted, and maybe he could because he was her Prince.
Agatha made it clear they both needed princes and not each other. It doesn’t make it any easier, though, to let Agatha and Tedros go.
“I’m sorry I made you wait for me.” She tries to ignore the part of her brain that says she is always second best and extends her hand to him.
“Anything for you, Sophie,” Rafal announces, leaning forward as if to kiss Sophie’s bloody palm. “True Love's kiss will save me, and save you.”
“Then promise me you’ll stay by my side, no matter what, and let them go,” she says softly, rubbing at her bruised forearm. ‘No harm can be done.’ So if she loves Rafal enough, he could never hurt her.
“I promise.”
Another Prince’s promise, she hopes this one doesn’t break it.
In the waning moonlight, Sophie presses her lips to his, softening and glowing with the faith that someone wanted her… that this kiss would bring her happiness. Then the kiss turned cold, rough, and Sophie felt his face shriveling, rotting as if it had turned a thousand years old, skin flaking off a maggoty, pockmarked skull. Alarmed, Sophie wanted to break away, but she remembered what would happen to her if she let go.
He whispers to her as he breaks off the kiss. “Thank you, Sophie.”
Sophie turns and finally looks back at Agatha, tears falling again. As she meets Agatha's scared eyes, they reflect a venomous villain. Sophie buries her head into Rafal's shoulder, heartbroken once more. Agatha chooses what she truly wants, and so can Sophie.
THE EN-
But Agatha’s eyes weren’t on her, no, they were on—
“Tedros, don't,” Agatha roared.
It’s only by her misfortune—or was it Rafals? At this point, it was no longer clear. They don’t notice until Tedros is right in front of them.
Tedros intended to kill them both.
Sophie jerks away, but is to late. Silence covers the clearing, and every person there watching gasps with horror at the scene.
Excalibur, buried deep within Sophie’s torso, puncturing straight through her, with her blood splattered onto Rafal's chest. The sword barely nicked him.
Sophie hears Rafal's shriek of surprise and feels him shove her away, coward.
Tedros blanches, letting go of Excalibur's handle as if burned by its touch. His legs stagger back in small, hasty steps, his determination destroyed as Sophie looks back towards him.
As they lock eyes, Tedros is a stuttering and bumbling fool. She recognizes the glint of guilt. He broke his promise to Filip.
“I didn’t aim for you. I needed to get to him, I swear—“
“Liar.” Sophie wheezes out, blood seeping at an alarming rate from her chest. She can feel the blood filling her lungs.
Sophie tries to mouth to Tedros as she turns her back on Rafal. Get Agatha out of here. Grab her, you idiot, before he kills you.
At least she can pretend she was selfless in her final moments, even though there was no outrunning Rafal.
“Oh, don't worry, it won't stick,” Rafal nonchalantly hums, shedding his bloody coat. “...I think.”
Rafal then pulls the sword out of her chest, as if Sophie's entire body wasn’t already on fire with agony from the sword piercing through her lungs. Spinning it around, as if to get a good weight on the sword before swinging it.
All Sophie can see is a pool of red that begins to gather at her feet, and the ground starts to spin. She feels her body lock and gives in to the pain.
“You will be fine. Just close your eyes for me,” Rafal hums to her, holding her upright, refusing to let her fall.
“What is it with you people and stabbing me?” she groans, though the blood seeping out of her mouth makes it sound like incoherent gibberish.
“Sophie, please.” Rafal pleads, grip tightening on her. As if facing a dilemma of keeping the sword or her in his hands.
“Fuck.” Sophie wheezes as she falls to her knees. She can only watch as he waved his hand and whistles to Excalibur to chase Tedros down. As if the sword of legend was but a mere hound.
Sophie refuses to close her eyes, as Rafal holds her tight.
Once True Loves, now two girls pulled apart, Strangers, each in the arms of a different Prince.
One dead and the other dying.
Neither of their wishes granted.
Filip gasps and grasps at his chest.
He pauses as he sits up, flinching as a sharp pain runs through him. His lungs feel like they're on fire.
Filip gets a weird sense of déjà vu for a minute as the pain fades away. How–Why is he here? He doesn’t… he doesn’t remember how he got here.
He’s knocked out of his train of thought as Tedros begins to stir from his side of the dorm, kicking his feet back and forth, and knocking off his pathetic excuse of a blanket.
Probably just a nightmare, he thinks. Just a horrible nightmare. He really needs to get out of here and back to Agatha.
Filip shakes the tension off his shoulders and lifts himself, reaching for the blanket on the floor. Filip won't let Tedros die from freezing, and he most certainly won't let Tedros be shamed by the others for getting sick—or worse. Aric can suck his cock for all he cares.
Filip throws the blanket over with a quiet flourish, tucks the blanket in carefully as to avoid Tedros' scarred back.
As Filip turns back to his bed, he feels Tedro’s calloused hand reach out to him. "Thank you," Tedros sleepily mumbles. Sophie pined for this. Filip feels the nightmare rushing back to him.
“You don't want this, Filip.”
“I didn’t aim for you. I needed to get to him, I swear—“
It was not just a nightmare. It is their future. The burning returns tenfolds into his chest, as if he is being stabbed by Tedros all over again. Tedros leaving him for Agatha, Tedros fleeing—The pain.
The pain. The Pain. Filip yanks his hand back, gasping, and falls on his ass. Tears began to pool in his eyes. He shakily gets on his knees, and kneels beside Tedros. Anger, joy, and horror washing over him in tandem. Filip wants to tear him apart, wants to make him feel everything he had to.
Filip jerks his fists towards Tedros, intending to choke him to death before he can wake up, but stumbles as he hears Tedros sleepily whisper, "You're a great friend, Filip, I don't deserve you."
Filip pauses and moves his hand upward to caress Tedros' face. Tedros's soft but chiseled face, that had a scar right below his lip from all the times he got lost in thought during their lectures.
Filip continues to lower his hand, and ghosts his hand over the scar on his throat from the time some dumb boy held a sword to his throat. Tedros told him during their nightly chats before bed about how he was interrogated when he lost the Storian and was scared shitless, begging for Merlin to save him.
"He never came, but it made them laugh so hard they stopped, and left me alone in the cell," Tedros said, as he swirled his cup of tea.
"I'm so sorry," Filip whispered back and looked at his reflection in his murky tea. Thinking to himself how it was his fault.
"It's not your fault, I was just stupid and in love. I have you now, though."
Filip cackled at that, but Tedros just swore to him before heading off to bed that Filip would never feel that way. Tedros promised, that if his enemies were ever to catch him, he would have an army marching for Filip.
”A loyal and chivalrous Lancelot, to me, King Arthur. We can be different.”
Filip runs his hand lightly on the nasty scar on Tedro's forearm from the gargoyle. Agatha talked about that particular incident with such affection and disgust as they slept in her mother's cottage.
“I know why he did it, but it still hurt me. I even yelled at him about it. Then I cried, if you can believe it…But after that, he changed around me. I saw who he really was.” Agatha said as she fiddled with Sophie's hair.
“Who was he, Aggie?” Sophie asked, as she fought sleep.
“A scared little boy who thought he was doing the right thing.”
The wave of emotion from earlier returns to him with full force, but the bliss of it all is overshadowed by heartbreak.
“Oh, Tedros.” Filip whimpers, laying his mouth on Tedro's arm and kissing it. “I don’t blame you for breaking your promise.”
Sophie never really blamed him. Neither could Filip.