Pairings: James Hook x Hades x Maleficent x Uliana x Morgie le fay x fem! Reader
Genre: Fluffy, Flirty enemies-to-lovers.
Warnings: Bullying, Established Poly Relationship between the VKs, Reader is Ella's sister.
Note: Many people enjoyed part one and asked for part two, so I hope this lives up to the expectations!
As you and Bridget planned the cupcakes, Ella sat on the bed, listing the ingredients.
After a while, you and Bridget began baking, and after a while, you both became messy from flour.
When you both weren’t looking, Ella came up behind you. Both snuck her hand into the flour and threw it at you.
“What was that for?” You looked at Ella and then began to get flour to throw it at her.
You threw the flour at her, and she yelled back. “This was my favorite outfit!”
“You started it!!” You yelled back. Ella grabbed more flour and threw it, and then you did the same thing.
Once Bridget got both of you calmed down. Ella sat on the floor with a towel, waiting for you and Bridget to get done so you both could go home and change.
When the cupcakes were done, you and Ella left, and now we’re walking down the hallway. Once you reached the front door to leave, you both saw Uilana, Maleficent, Hades, Hook, and Morgie in the chairs at the corner.
“Well. Well. Well, what do we have here?” Hook said loudly. Which made Ella tense up. And you annoyed.
“Just got done making people's food, peasant.” She said, directly talking to Ella, I'm not talking to you.
“HEY! Leave her alone, shrimpy," you said, standing up to Uilana once again.
All five of them turned over to look at you. Some eyes soften, and some smiles grow. As your eyes glared at Uilana.
Uilana smiled at you, which you weren't scared of. Not scared of becoming the next victim of their bullying. You will do anything that helps your sister and best friend out; it’s worth it.
"Wow, aren't you a brave girl?" Uilana, she teased. "Stop it, Uilana. Y/N, let's just go." Ella grabbed your arm softly as she tried to move past Hook and Hades. When Ella was trying to push past Hades and Hook. You felt someone put something in your pocket.
When you looked over to see who it was. You saw Morgie smiling at you. You glared at him more softly than the others. Because he was the sweetest of the bunch. 'Why is he kind of cute?' you thought to yourself. You looked over at the rest of the three. 'Dang, they're very attractive.'
'No, snap out of it, Y/N. They bully your sister and your best friend.' You shook your head to get the thoughts out of your head. Ella finally pushed past Hades and Hook and dragged you outside with her.
You looked back at them as Ella dragged you and saw Uilana smiling at you, waving. 'Dang, I've never realized how pretty she is.' You looked at each one of them and softened your glance as you looked at them. They were all watching Ella drag you away. And you saw Morgie waving excitedly goodbye.
Once you both reached the house, you both wanted to go back to Merlin Academy. You both wished you were still with Bridget. When you entered the house, you sighed in relief, not seeing your stepmother.
Ella went upstairs, and you followed her. When you entered your and Ella's room, you looked into your pocket, and there was a note. It read:
Meet us at the Black Lagoon at 12. - Morgie, Maleficent, Hades, Uilana, and Hook
You looked over the note again. Trying to decide if you should go or not. 'Maybe it's a trap.' You sighed and decided to go. You waited until 11:30 to leave. Once it was 11:30, you got off your bed and carefully left through the bedroom door. Praying you didn't wake up, Ella. Once you left your bedroom, you went downstairs and left through the front door silently.
Walking alone at 11 at night wasn't on your bucket list. It was really dark, so you used a flashlight. You finally reached the Black Lake, and you saw Maleficent, Hades, Hook, Morgie, and Uilana.
You walked up to them, and Morgie and Hook were smiling widely. Maleficent and Hades are looking you up and down, smirking.
"Hello, darling, we're quite surprised you've shown up." Hook said while walking up to you. "What do you guys want?" You said, watching him walk up.
'Okay, maybe this wasn't the best decision coming alone,' you thought to yourself. You tense up as you feel Morgie come up behind you and rest his head on your shoulders, and Hook gets really, really close.
Uilana's smile is soft, not a mean-looking smile, just soft, and Maleficent's and Hades's smiles are also soft smiles. Now you're really confused.
"What do we want, darling? What we want is you," Hook whispers in your ear. Once he says those words, you feel your face heat up. 'Now what does he mean?' You shake your head, getting rid of any romantic or weird thoughts, and you pull away from Morgie's hold.
"Now hold on a minute, what do you mean by that?" Uilana is still smiling. "We're all in love with you, want you to see?" she says. Now you just look really confused. "No, I can't tell you bully, me, my sister, and our best friend." You said loudly, "Why would I date any of you!"
All five of them looked at each other. "Okay, I know why this is weird, but here's an offer: if you date us, then we will leave your sister and your best friend alone." Uilana offers which shocks you. "What do you mean 'us'?" You said.
All of a sudden, Maleficent comes up behind you, whispering in your ear. "Come on, darling, we've seen the way you look at all of us." You felt more heat in your face, embarrassed. "No need to be embarrassed; now we all like you, and we all decided to join you in our relationship." Hades also appeared behind you, touching your waist.
"Fine, I like all of you!" you said. They all laughed at your embarrassed face. Maleficent and Hades dragged you to a big couch and sat you on it. Both are sitting at your sides while holding each of your hands. Morgie runs over to join you. He lies across you, Maleficent, and Hades. Hook sits on the floor, leaning against your leg. And lastly, Uilana joins, sitting on the floor as well.
"Rest, darling, you look tired." Hook said while looking at your eyes that look like they're drooping. "But I need to get home to my sister; my stepmom would kill me if I'm not home." You said worried.
"Don't worry, let us handle it." Hades said. You slowly felt yourself fall asleep, and you felt relaxed being in all those arms.
You woke up expecting to be surrounded by lots of people, but when you woke up, you were in your bed. 'Was that a dream?' You thought, 'But it felt so real,' and you were saddened you wished it wasn't real.
You looked over at Ella, who was still asleep, and you sighed, getting all your blankets off you. Once all the blankets were off, you saw a note underneath all your blankets. It said, 'Hope you slept well'—Morgie. :)
You smiled, realizing it wasn't a dream. Then you got confused. How did they know where you lived?
You got up a little creeped out, and you hid the note under your pillow. And went to wake up Ella for school. "Ella, wake up, school." She stirred, then she finally woke up. You both got ready quickly and then ran out the door to not be late to school so you could talk to Bridget before class.
Once you finally arrive at Merlin Academy. The first person Ella saw was Bridget. The first people you saw were the VKS. You saw the main 5 staring at you. Some are intense; others are very happy. Morgie and Hook were waving very fast, hoping you would go over and join all of them for breakfast.
You looked at Bridget and Ella and said, "I'll be back," and you walked over to the Vks. Bridget and Ella looked confused as you were walking over there. Once you were in front of the Vks, Morgie jumped up and hugged you very tightly, which you then hugged him back, digging your head slightly into his neck.
"Bridget, are you seeing this?" Ella said as she looked over at Bridget, confused and kind of mad. "Aw, they're so cute!!" Bridget said, watching you sit down and talk with the V.K.S.
can i request an uliana’s crew x shy reader one shot? <3
I can try! ; had no ideas for this so I kinda split this up like a preference but idrc man ; thanks for requesting, hope you enjoy! ; i tried making this a continuous story too so idrk man
FEARFUL FIVE ; no need to be shy
summary ; youre shy. and uliana and her crew slowly recruit you
warnings ; language
disclaimers ; p/n = parents name
word count ; 845
masterlist
You sit in class, silent as usual, working on bookwork by your lonesome.
You'd moved to Merlin's Academy months ago, but had been to shy to make any friends. You didn't really need them anyways, you were just fine blanketed in your silence and loneliness.
Beside you sits Maleficent, halfway attendant to the lesson as she writes the notes down in her book. She holds a black pen in her right hand, her left hand holding her head up.
As you fall behind, thank the teacher for flipping through the slides too quickly, you shyly look over at her, too nervous to get her attention. She looks over at you, having sense your eyes burning into her skull.
"Uhm," you whisper. "Did you get six and seven?" you nervously ask, unable to hold eye contact.
She lightly smiles in response and turns her book a bit so you can see the answers on the page. You shoot her a little smile before quickly writing them down, whispering a thank you as well.
"No need to be shy, hun."
You didn't have a public opinion about the VK's. You really couldn't care less, you just wanted to stay out of their way. But that also went for the other kids too, they could be mean.
But, your natural fear of people was at it again. You didn't know where to sit since your little table had been stolen in the cafeteria today. But, Morgie Le Fay, a VK, approaches you, a little excited to ask you the question that follows.
"Hey, would you wanna sit with us?"
He points back at his group, all half watching you two from their table.
"Uhm..." you try to inspect his expression, trying to decode if he was being fake or not. "Uh, sure"
He smiles, grabs your hand, and quickly leads you to the table. You sit down next to him, shyly picking at your food, listening to their conversation.
Morgie quietly speaks to you, seeing your abnormal behavior. "No need to be shy, we're nice, I promise" He smiles. "What's your name?"
"Y/n" You answer, sounding a little disinterested.
"Wait," Hades quickly looks up at you, "Y/n, like P/n, like Y/n L/n?"
You nod, sticking a celery stick in your mouth.
Hook chuckles. "Cool"
Morgie looks back at you with a soft smile.
"Told you we're nice"
A few days had passed since you sat at the VK's table. You decided to sit with them from now on since they were actually nice to you, and you never ended up getting your table back anyway.
Physical education wasn't your strong suit. Why you needed to know how to use a sword anyways was beyond you.
Though, James Hook was in your class, which was a little nice. You'd been paired with him today, though you were too shy to actually talk to him.
He slings an arm around your shoulders, which quickly tense up under his touch. He leans forward, looking at you, seeing your gaze stuck forward.
"Are you alright, new kid?"
You nod.
"Not know how to use a sword?" He asks, a little amused.
You shake your head.
"I can teach you" He shrugs, "Not that hard"
He notices your odd silence.
"Y'know, you don't have to be shy. I won't cut your hand off, love"
Hades works beside you in potions class, his eyes looking like he was barely attentive at 8am. You'd quickly gotten confused and mixed up with the directions, having stopped yourself to stare at the book, trying to figure out what you were even doing. Curse these textbooks riddled in poems and old English.
Hades notices your still silence, furrowing his brows as he looks at you. He tilts his head, realizing you need help.
"Do you need help?" he asks.
You look at him, then back at the book, and nod, handing it to him. He holds the book in his hand, his finger following the words he read in his head.
"You're very quiet" he comments.
You shrug.
"Okay, so, add the eye of newt, then stir, then add the witch's spit."
"Okay, thank you," you thank him quietly, setting the book back down on your desk.
He nods. "Don't gotta be shy, you can ask for help," he shrugs. "You're cool."
"Thanks..."
Over the course of the past few months, Uliana and her friends had kind of dragged you into their group. They seemed to be the only people who spoke to you first, pulling you into them. So, you began to trust them more and talk to them a bit more, too.
The only one you hadn't had a personal run-in with was Uliana herself.
But now was that time.
She'd brought you to the Black Lagoon, tentacles loosely wrapped around your waist and shoulders as you lead you further through the woods. Your steps are small and cautious, reeking nervousness.
She stops, looking at you. "There's no need to be shy, darling. C'mon, I want to show you something amazing"
Can you do Uliana and her crew with a Vk reader insert who was supposed to be one of the villains, but decided to turn over a leaf with the heroes?
pairings: james hook x morgie le fay x hades x maleficent x uliana x gn!reader
genre: a fluff—hurt/comfort—fluff sandwich
warnings: reader wears some makeup + has their nails painted (written completely non-gender-specific-ly, but i understand that some people may find it uncomfortable/not for them), mild swearing (slut, fuck, damn), some trouble in paradise but everyone's trying their best to make things better, a few innuendoes (reader is very flirty), one implied mention of a gun (used solely as a metaphor)
note: established relationship. reader is mother gothel (don't ask me the technicalities of how they exist simultaneously with zellie). well, i thought my last fic would hold the title of highest wordcount for quite a well, but my fics just seem to be getting exponentially longer, with this one at a whopping 7.4k!
as much as, you’ve realised over the course of this afternoon filled with fits of giggles and smiles so wide they pleat cheeks, you truly would love to hang out with your friends within the bright pink walls of bridget’s dorm forever—one of the things you’ve learnt since befriending people of a… gooder disposition, is that it’s actually not encouraged to hang around long past your welcome and lovingly (though, with your usual company the lines between love and hate tend to blur themselves) bother your companions to the point of a migraine.
zellie has long left behind spilt droplets from the container of face paint she’d clumsily discarded on her way out (running down the hall to mediate jasmine and aladdin, who apparently decided to treat castlecoming like their wedding day, but immediately ran into trouble when they realised it’s actually very difficult to match outfits when you can’t be in the same room together), and fay now shyly squeaks out her goodbyes as you watch the fairy disappear out the door (with a nail polish bottle of royal blue in hand, that christopher charming had dropped off earlier; a gift for ella, hoping to raise the girl’s spirits knowing she’d been barred from attending the dance tonight—to which fay had been suspiciously quick to accept it, promising she’d deliver it herself, with a twinkle in her eyes and a knowing smile).
so, you clean as many makeup brushes and scrub away as many bright stains in the carpet as you can find in an effort to leave as little work as possible for your hostess to have to worry about later—and, finally, direct yourself towards the doorway, and away from the rug in the centre of the room, where bridget has already started warming up to practice her special dance routine a couple hundred more times.
in one smooth motion, you retrieve your ornate cloak from where zellie had insisted on properly hanging it on a rack where it wouldn’t crease by the door, wrap it snugly around your shoulders—and lean over as far as you can reach to press a chaste kiss to your friend’s cheek, who returns the gesture with a warm smile.
“thank you again for the makeup,” her grin matches yours as you once more praise her handiwork of bright pinks (and your signature shades of red, whenever you barely managed convince her to go easy on the rosy frenzy) painted eagerly across every blank canvas of your face; from lips sparkling blindingly like a kissable disco ball, to the faintest dusting of her favourite—you guessed it—pink-and-glittery eyeshadow emanating all around your eyes, glowing like a physical manifestation of your joy as you’d watched her tongue stick out and (yet again, glitter-covered) eyebrows furrow in deep concentration as she’d worked.
“of course,” she insists—with an enthusiastic tone that makes your heart melt, knowing she’d do it all again for you in an instant—waving like the excitable flap of a baby bird’s wings to you as you back out of her room, “that’s what friends are for!”
you can’t help but offer her one last thank you (for your makeup, for helping you style your outfit, for inviting you to get ready with her—and, above all else, for giving you a second chance with open arms), as you skip down the hall, and give a little cheer in response, as she giddily calls out a final, “see you tonight!”
your cloak billows behind you as you prance down the halls and twirl around the corners, your head all but hitting the ceiling with how high the spring in your every step bounces you, each footfall so quick that the heels of your red boots patter like rainfall across the floorboards.
you quickly find your way through to the other side of the girls dormitory building, your smile only growing when you hear familiar voices wafting through the cracks in the ajar bedroom door.
you stifle a giddy laugh as you try to keep your bubbling nerves at bay in your shaky hands that reach for the doorknob; your joy from spending the afternoon with your friends, and the excitement to now reunite with your partners (and the anticipation to admire them completely transformed impossibly more gorgeous than you last saw them, while you, too, stand opposite them just as—in your own humble opinion—drop-dead breathtakingly stunning), swirling together in your gut like a storm of glitter and butterflies.
you can’t wait a moment longer, pouncing forward, prowling silently like a wild predator as you enter (though, your exhilarated smile does put a bit of a damper on the whole intimidation factor—but you couldn’t dim it even if you tried).
within the blink of an eye, you’ve silently pushed the door open and slipped inside uliana and maleficent’s dorm—and are immediately bombarded by the potent smell of james’ obnoxious cologne battling to overpower maleficent’s equally strong (and arguably lethal, according to the various poisonous agreements you once saw her toss into the cauldron when brewing up a new batch) perfume.
(but the seemingly overwhelming scents simply smell like home to you, as you take a deep inhale, and release a pleasant giggle on the way out.)
you find the pirate himself to the left, stationed in his favourite place; in front of a mirror. he strikes various poses as he mutters to himself, adjusting his shirt every few seconds—rolling and unrolling the long flowy sleeves, gradually unbuttoning the front until there’s more of his bare chest on display than there are buttons done-up, and tugging the neckline down until he may as well have just worn a tube top if he was going to bastardise the original purpose of this shirt’s sleeves so thoroughly.
your boyfriend is so entranced with his own reflection that it takes you shamelessly eyeing him up and down an enjoyably self-indulgent number of times, for him to finally catch your gaze in the glass.
immediately, his arms cross as an eyebrow raises, staring you down as if he’s disgusted at your presence.
but you simply smirk, pulling the body of your cloak aside like a royal preparing to bow, to reveal your outfit (that you’d purposefully kept as a surprise for your partners) to him.
you can practically feel the heat radiating off his cheeks as you give a twirl, giggling to yourself as he quickly turns away from you, curling in on himself in a failed attempt to hide the way his wide eyes still trip over themselves to drink in every perfect little detail of your outfit—his gaze heavy as he’s unable to ever fully tear it away from the expanses of exposed skin in all the right places, and tight-fitting fabric hugging all the others.
(he can try to give you the cold shoulder all he wants; you’re downright ethereal and you know it—and you’re not afraid to use it to distract a grumpy partner or two.)
with what you deem a job well done at flustering your boyfriend, you whirl to look to your right in search of your other partners.
immediately, your eyes meet ones colder than ice, sharp irises of green side-eying you from where they face a gothic vanity you’ve spent many a morning sat in front of. maleficent’s expression is stern and unforgiving as always, attempting to shrink you in your place, now with a tint of disapproval aimed at your bright pink makeup worn brazenly like a mark of allegiance to her sworn enemy.
right behind her, hades has clearly noticed your arrival too, even though he persists his façade of nonchalance—as his hands stall for the briefest second where they skilfully wrap a black veil of lacy spiderwebs around the dark fey’s horns—and your mouth is quick to open with a sarcastic jab at them both, to not get too excited at your return, when an actually excited voice cheers your name, and a blur of green and glitter bounds towards you.
flitting in the blink of an eye from where he’d been peering over hades’ shoulder at his boyfriend’s handiwork, to stand right in front of you, morgie stops short of wrapping you in his one of his usual all-encompassing-rib-crushing hugs, as his jaw drops.
his wide eyes run along every stitch and seam of your outfit—as, frozen in place with awe, he wonders aloud, “am i even allowed to touch you?”
you think your heart might have just exploded a little at his adorably considerate question, and you can’t help but giggle as you reach out to clasp his hand in yours and draw it in to rest on your waist—if anything, you should be asking him if you’re so much as allowed in the same kingdom as himself, as he stands before you worlds apart from the boy, curled up in oversized pyjamas and a face scrunched-up half asleep that barely registered your little peck on the cheek goodbye, that you’d left behind earlier this morning; now appearing as a vision plucked right out of your childhood fantasies of a handsome prince falling irrevocably in love with you, declaring his undying affection to the peasant that had snuck into the royal ball just for a taste of a fine cake or two, but ends up leaving with their lips stained with the remnants of something far better...
his floor-length satin skirt shimmers in specks of sunlight as he steps closer at your encouragement. though his touch is still tentative—the boy endlessly cautious, as he’s terrified that one wrong move might unravel your entire carefully-put-together outfit beneath his hands (not that you’d have much of a complaint about that)—even as you don’t hesitate to run your hands over the intricate embroidery etched into his dark green vest.
“you should touch up the makeup their new friends did,” hades comments from where him and maleficent still watch the two of you (and pretend they don’t find the sight of you and morgie wrapped around each other like muses of a centuries-old painting painfully endearing) as he meets your amused raised-eyebrow gaze, “it looks like a fairy vomited all over your face.”
unbothered, you thread your arm with morgie’s, beginning to guide him across the room towards where uliana’s circular bed hangs suspended from the ceiling—and away from your bitter (but equally beautiful) hecklers.
“well, i think your makeup is lovely,” you coo over your shoulder, grinning at the sight of the blue eyeliner and charcoal eyeshadow that maleficent had spent weeks convincing him to wear for tonight, “what’s that shade, princely cerulean?”
maleficent’s head ducks as she lets out a quiet snort, and with a gasp—that’s only slightly dramatised to make his partners laugh—hades turns back to his supposed teammate stabbing him in the back with a glower.
“yeah yeah, very funny,” he shakes his head, hoping you miss the flash of a mirthful smile at your antics, as he returns to tenderly dressing his girlfriend’s horns.
halfway across the room, you reunite with james as you pass him still fussing over himself in the mirror—pulling the neckline of his shirt impossibly lower, until the edges of what was meant to be his collar bunch up below his shoulders.
“are you sure you’re showing enough skin?”
james turns to pointedly eye the low-cut fabric running down your own chest, “you might as well not wear a shirt at all,” he retorts.
you hum in faux thoughtfulness, running your hand tantalisingly across his bare shoulders as you stroll past, “you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“you both look like sluts,” maleficent sneers from across the room.
of the same mind, both of you turn to give her a wink in response—james grinning back that, “that’s exactly what i’m going for,” and yourself clutching your chest in a theatrical display of offence, as you reply, “i prefer the term paramour.”
james busies himself with bothering hades and maleficent for their opinions on how he should style his shirt (and scoffing offendedly in dismissal when they, with wicked smirks, simultaneously suggest he start with getting himself a shirt that isn’t wrinkled as horribly as his forehead), as you, to morgie—who had been hanging off your arm like it was a pillow he was desperately trying to find the right position to fall asleep upon—‘s relief, finally make yourself comfortable atop uliana’s softer-than-clouds mattress.
perched like a monarch eagerly waiting for their traitorous adviser to take a sip from their poisoned chalice, you lean back and make substantial room for morgie to lounge beside you—who immediately drapes himself over your legs, his arms sprawling out to haphazardly circle your waist and simultaneously attempt to hold your hands, as, even with his hair carefully styled down to every last curl, he happily nuzzles his head into your lap. gently, you try to spare the intricate design and run your hand down his cheek, but are quickly interrupted as he nudges the top of his head into your hand.
“alright, alright!” you laugh fondly, disregarding (with his permission—nay, demand) what you’re sure is hours’ worth of work from uliana and maleficent desperately trying to keep their boyfriend still for long enough to so much as pass a comb through his hair once, as you run the tips of your bright red nails along his scalp, to his immense enjoyment.
the kind of excitement—for a whole night still to come, you remind yourself, with a silent wish that the joys of today may never end—that makes your lips quiver and your bones rattle inside your body, slowly calms down, as your breaths even out to match morgie’s as they brush warmly against your palm every few seconds.
“how have you been?” you inquire softly as his eyes flutter closed, and a blissful smile takes over his lips.
“i missed you,” he whispers, and it still tugs on your heartstrings every time, even though he says this when you so much as fall out of step with him to tie a shoelace, “but… i’m good,” he lets out a happy sigh, as he takes a second to glance around the room at his other partners (and not for the first time, you wonder what someone as simply nice as him could have possibly seen in someone as needlessly cruel as you had been before you recently started cleaning up your act), “really good.”
you nod, “well, you look good.”
he whines, shuffling further into your lap to hide his bright pink face in the folds of your cloak, and mumbles out an attempt to distract your overwhelming attention before he literally melts in your arms, “how’ve you been?”
“i’m good too,” you chuckle, with one hand softly stroking what of his cheek you can reach to try to coax him out of hiding, whilst you turn your other wrist over in front of you, watching the way the native wonderlandian flower charms of the beaded bracelet bridget leant to you reflect specks of the purest sunlight and glisten like stars.
“…ella couldn’t make it,” you slowly continue, heart heavy with the recent realisation that you’d actually missed the presence of a girl you once looked down upon, “it felt like there was this… this hole in the middle of the group, the entire time. like— we still enjoyed ourselves, and it was still nice, but— there was just this one piece… missing,” you sigh, still fighting the endless battle with the thoughts looming over your mind that hiss that all your new friends’ misfortunes are somehow all you and your evil aura’s fault—no matter how much of yourself you pour into being good, it always snarls that you can never change, that you can never ever grow to be better than the self-absorbed would-be tyrant that’s looked back at you in the mirrors you’d obsess over your entire life.
but then, after a moment of agonising silence, morgie looks up at you with all the care in the world, starlight beaming up at your face like a spotlight manned by someone who can see every jagged little puzzle piece messily shoved together inside of you; and, despite it all, stays—just like every other one of your partners, and every one of your friends, who are still here, and choose to stay every day.
you let out a deep exhale.
it’s all going to be okay, because people love you, and you love them, and you’re not irredeemable, you know it for certain—and he’s whispering now, in that soft voice of his that rolls over you like the fluffy fur of a puppy.
so you card your fingers through his hair, and let the gentlest smile grace your lips when he hums between sentences at the sensation.
“it feels like that when you’re gone too,” he frowns ever-so-slightly downheartedly as he continues, “they don’t wanna admit it because they’re… ‘villains’, but, i can tell… they miss you too.”
from the moment the realisation dawned on you, you’d always known that your self-proclaimed villainous partners wouldn’t take nicely to your change of heart—you were well aware that there’d be a fight, that they’d refuse to let you do this (abandoning them, they’d called it, you were abandoning their way of life—a cruel one, full of kicking down and sucker punches, and cackling viciously as fellow classmates holed themselves in their rooms and cried themselves to sleep—and thus rejecting the people themselves), hell, you’d half-feared-more-than-death half-forced-yourself-to-resign-to the fact that they very well might have just broken up with you then and there.
but you had to. you had to turn over a new leaf, had to be able to look in the mirror each morning and not see someone who found a twisted joy in others’ suffering; had to do the right thing. so, you did.
there was a week of complete radio silence—no contact, no shared classes, not so much as a glimpse could you catch of them across school… which also meant, no bullying.
there had been a sort of tenseness in the perceived peace, as bridget had nervously explained to you early on, she was half convinced your attempts to suddenly start a friendship mixed with your partner’s absence had all been part of some elaborate scheme. but there was no finale ultimo where hades set the school aflame or maleficent cursed the entire student body, there was just nothing—save for the already budding friendship you’d been dedicating yourself to baked with extensive apologies and genuine vulnerability in the truths of your changing ways.
and then, everything snapped back to normal… almost.
morgie had come running back to you, wrapping you tightly in his arms as he’d whispered about how he’d seen you with bridget, and muttered a cryptic mess of how much him and all the others had missed you, yet how he’d watch them spend sleepless nights wondering if your new inclination to goodness was a sign their immoral ways weren’t enough for you anymore.
your heart had shattered, and right there, in the middle of your dorm building, you’d turned to morgie with sobs rolling off your tongue.
“did i make the wrong decision?” you’d cried, clutching him with the terror that he might slip away just like the rest if you were to let go to so much as wipe at your bleary eyes, “should i go back? i don’t know if i could— but i have to, to try, for them. right?”
he’d reassured you—over and over as he’d lain you down on your bed, piling you under the warmest blankest, and surrounding you with the endless collection of stuffed toys your partners had won at various carnivals and fairs, like a royal guard sworn to protect your heart—no, you did the right thing. he’d pressed a kiss to your forehead as he sat by your bed, comforting you until your weeps lulled tired snores, promising; you’ll see.
and over the next week, all your broken pieces were put back together one by one, as morgie’s promise rang true, and your partners seamlessly re-entered your life.
hades was at the door of your dorm the next morning, awaiting to walk you wherever you wanted like he always used to—which now meant to the classes you’d been neglecting, to which he’d grumbled and asked something along the lines of, “are you serious?” but he’d stuck by your side the whole way to your alchemy classroom, and he’d appeared once more to wrap you in his leather jacket the minute it ended.
then, at night, uliana had dragged you all the way from your dorm to hers in the pitch darkness, grunting about how she was having trouble sleeping again, and that “mali still cuddles like an angry dragon”. so you’d laid down for her to curl atop your chest, and couldn’t help but smile at the familiarity of it all washing back over you—as if you’d never lost this at all—as maleficent perched herself on the foot of the bed, and completed the ritual of reading the two of you one of her childhood fairytales (with funny voices, like you always insisted because it made a half-asleep uliana giggle like a little kid), until yourself and uliana drifted off to slumber in perfect harmony.
then, everything finally fell back into place the following afternoon, when james approached you as you sat with bridget and ella by the fountain. it had been an obvious olive branch—and you were more than happy for it—when he’d invited you back into the black lagoon, muttering about painting nails or watching movies or whatever you wanted, but you knew it wouldn’t even matter if you sat in silence together for hour; he just wanted you back.
so you’d promised to catch up with your friends later, and for the whole five minutes it took for ella to remind bridget (in a daze of getting herself excited about your first ever baking session together the following weekend) that you were in a bit of a hurry, your boyfriend waited; silently hovering by your side, the boy who had a habit of making a scene whenever someone kept him waiting, simply offered friendly nods and awkward attempts at smiles, all the way until you finally parted ways with the girls, and he clung onto you like he was scared you’d drift back to them—and away from him—if he let go.
that weekend, you’d frozen when fay mentioned she isn’t scared to walk to class alone anymore; in your absence, your partners had been… changing, trying to be nicer, holding back punches and biting down on the lashes of sharp tongues.
now, your relationship isn’t worse than before (you love them and they all love you, it’s evident in every brush of your hands and every affectionate smile not a single one of you are strong enough to fight), and it’s not better either (maleficent still hisses at teachers, and uliana still scoffs at classmates that ‘have the nerve to try to talk to someone as fabulous as her’), it’s just different.
but above all else, it still exists, and you’re all still fighting tooth and nail to hold onto each other.
you sigh, cupping morgie’s face between your palms, gazing down at him lovingly as you try not to cry a waterfall of tears that aren’t even certain what exactly they’re crying for.
“hey,” you smile, slowly gaining stability amongst treacherous waters, as you smile at your boyfriend with a growing hint of playfulness.
“hi,” he leans into your hands as your thumbs run along his cheeks, smiling comfortingly as the two of you slowly drift away into a nice little lagoon that’s surface shimmers like a clear night’s sky.
you take in the sight of his bright makeup with a giggle; you’d thought fay was practically drowning in body glitter—with glistening legs and her hair looking like each strand’s entire length was kissed by individual rain droplets—but she’s got nothing on the glitter spread all across morgie’s face, from the green specks generously dusted over his eyelids, to the iridescent glow of almost imperceptible little sparkles highlighting his cheeks.
you hum with a thoughtful frown, “i’ve been thinking…”
morgie giggles as you turn his face every which way in your lap, inspecting him like he’s a particularly difficult to identify specimen from one of your crystals & prisms classes.
“yeah?”
“mhm,” you nod, terribly serious as you pinch his cheek, “i think you’re in need of some more glitter.”
his immediate expression of amused confusion (he knows he’s covered in the stuff, james’ disapproving & disregarded comments of “less is more, darling” are still clear in his mind) doesn’t have but a second to fully form, as you’re immediately ducking down to press your lips to his.
(when he lets out a surprised squeak it takes immense willpower to not press harder until you’ve stolen his every last breath—you think your strength to not kiss this boy within an inch of his life every chance you get might actually be the best example of your foray into goodness, you consider yourself a downright hero to spare those rosy cheeks from being set aflame hotter than hades’ hair!)
your grin is undeniable as he instinctually chases your lips when you part, his wide eyes finally catching on the sight of the glittery lip gloss fay gifted you spread across your curled lips—and now smudged across his, too.
he’s still catching his breath, with a hand raised to ghost along his own lips as if in shock after being dipped halfway to the floor for your very first kiss, while you beam ever so innocently as if you’d simply been sitting here minding your own business when some other dastardly paramour had swooped in and stolen the prince’s breath.
your gaze dances across the room, finding james (now deeply focused on tossing his hair just so that it looks effortlessly roguish), maleficent (tugging at the sleeve of hades’ leather jacket in an attempt to get him to wear the black and gold embroidered “brother #3” toga she’s been trying to get him to wear ever since she burst into laughter upon first stumbling across it in his closet several years ago), and hades (not budging to his girlfriend’s demands, as he grumbles about how “you wouldn’t find it so funny if you had to wear that to all of your cousins weddings for the past millennia”)—but, strangely, still as unusually absent as when you’d arrived; no uliana.
“morgie, love,” he giggles when you boop his nose in greeting, “where’s uli…?”
he points to the locked doorway to your left, a glint of amusement in his eyes at something you clearly missed the brunt of, “she locked herself in the bathroom while she gets ready, ‘cause hades kept messing with her hair.”
“i almost singed her,” hades’ eyeroll is audible, “accidentally.”
“he did it to annoy me, twice!” uliana screeches from inside the bathroom, “on purpose!”
bubbles of laughter fade just as quickly as you’d chuckled at the conjuring of the mental image of your girlfriend scurrying around the room like the frantic movements of maleficent’s anxious raven as she flees taunting chuckles connected to outstretched flaming fingers—when you hear the unclicking of a lock, and your girlfriend emerges from her sanctuary; with a carefully curated glare directed at you, pinched across the most beautiful face painted with the most impressive makeup in tendrils of deep haunting blues and vibrant sea greens and yellows so rich they shimmer like gold.
the sea witch scoffs, and your eyes are drawn to the gradient perfectly fading from a blue like seaweed inwards to a seafoam green across her lips.
“i see the traitor has returned from enemy territory.”
“happy to be back,” you smile genuinely, the only thing holding you back from lurching forwards and kissing your gorgeous girlfriend silly being the boy now draped across your side, weighing you down with his head tucked into your shoulder as he offers a cheerful “hi, uli!” that never fails to make her furious at the way it seizes her heart like the clutch of a fistful of razor-sharp talons (no matter how much she fights the notion that she could possibly be soft for anyone like a lifelong nemesis, you all see the way she ‘reluctantly’ melts into hugs, or pretends to be annoyed by kisses on the cheek, before masking a duck away to hide her undeniable smile as a disgusted shake of her head).
“well, i have to take your side on this one, love,” you offer hades an apologetic pout, “that hairstyle is definitely worth protecting.”
uliana smirks smugly, posing with one hand on her hip as the other waves dismissively to the god as if he’s some sort of lowly fan squirming at her feet—but, it takes less than a moment for her to start to squirm, suddenly pinned down by everyone of her partners shamelessly admiring the rare sight of her natural tight curls kissing her shoulders—as james lets out a whistle in agreement, smirking a comment that makes even morgie’s cheeks against your shoulder warm (and does not bear repeating—your boyfriend’s mouth of a sailor rivalling what even you dare cheekily whisper), as the pirate’s eyes dip from her ruffled corset resembling a scallop shell, down to her sequined pants that are skin tight all the way until they flare at her calves how she likes her entrances; dramatic.
her eyes dip bashfully, grumbling something about how this is all somehow your fault, trying to play off her sudden bout of shyness as some sort of silent treatment (and definitely not anything like being flustered—she’s too badass for that, uliana triskelion does not get flustered!).
you’re more than ready to flirt your girlfriend into an early grave—an unravelling tome’s-length of salacious compliments already loaded into the chamber—when the creak of the bedroom door pierces through the room, and your heads all snap to the side with inquisitive frowns.
“oh, hi bridget!” morgie greets the sudden presence, and you’re bouncing up from your seat with a gasp before he even finishes saying her name.
“bridey!” you squeal, enveloping her in a quick hug as you drag her away from awkwardly lingering in the doorway, your smile blinding as she squeaks out an equally joyful exclamation of her nickname for you.
(behind you, each of your partners’—save for morgie (though he’s not exactly thrilled about the sudden coldness from the lack of you holding him close)—demeanours flip like switches, their gazes sharp and cold like icicles, as they prowl across the room, closing in on you, and the unwelcome presence that dares to steal you away from them, like a possessive pack of wolves.)
(but you couldn’t care less for their brooding, your attention unapologetically fixating on a girl you’re quickly realising might be your best friend; a concept you’ve never been an outgoing enough person to experience outside of your partners.)
“how are you? is everything alright, dear?”
bridget nods like a bobblehead, the bubbly princess grinning like enthusiasm personified, even as her bright pink curls threaten to bounce out of their hairpins with the motion, and she pants from clearly having sprinted the whole way from her dorm to here.
“everything’s peachy,” she reassures you, as her hands momentarily delve into her dress’ pockets to retrieve something, “i just forgot to give you—” she struggles with her skirt’s endless layers of ruffles eating her hands alive, until she finally wrenches them out, victoriously wielding a sheet of stick-on rhinestones, “—these!”
she takes your face into her palms with a speed that puts the surprise kisses you give your partners to shame, as she attentively presses the pink gems from your temples to the corners of your eyes, like little bursts of fireworks across your face.
your eyelids flutter with the new weight of the rhinestones, an appreciative smile growing on your face as you give your head a few tilts to properly show off bridget’s handiwork.
triumphantly, she matches your grin, “perfect!” beginning to slide the sticker sheets back into the depths of her cloud-like puffy ruffles and be on her merry way (and leave you to your partners, that she’s well aware aren’t so jazzed about her brief interruption—and can’t even blame them, when she knows just well as them that your presence is a light like no other), when a voice pipes up from behind you.
“can i have some?” morgie eyes the shimmering stones in bridget’s palm with wonder.
“oh!” the royal momentarily freezes, still not fully used to the lessening of the animosity between her kind and yours—but the light in her eyes is swift to flicker back on, and she starts to step forwards with a hand outstretched, “absolutely, let me just—”
“alright, that’s enough.”
in a flash, morgie is tugged snuggly (and just a little roughly, in haste) into james’s side, just out of bridget’s reach, as uliana takes the cue to step forward with a bitter scowl.
“this isn’t a safe place for someone as… delicate as you, princess,” she approaches the other girl until they’re toe-to-toe, staring her down with an expectant raised eyebrow.
(but uliana doesn’t take a single step further—pushing and pushing until the wonderlandian tumbles down a stair she hadn’t expected to be so close behind her, or until she’s intimidated to the point where she has no choice but to flee with her tail between her legs—like she used to. there’s almost a hint of patience in your girlfriend’s eyes, as she has the consideration to not try to strip your friend of her every last scrap of dignity with shove after shove, like she once relentlessly would have, and simply waits for her to turn around to exit of her own accord.)
you give an amused scoff—once you’ve made a cursory glance to double-check bridget knows she’s no longer in danger in your partners’ company (beyond the apparent broiling cauldrons of almost endearing jealousy)—and slink behind uliana to grab morgie’s hand, giving him no choice but to drag along behind you (to james’ immediate shocked grunt of disapproval) as you plant yourself beside bridget, and link your arms together.
“you have a point uli,” you give a faux conceding sigh (to which bridget muffles a giggle at your unrelenting penchant for theatrics), “which is why i think we—” you nod to the pink-haired girl beside you, and to the boy on your other side that is currently trying and failing to not split in half from the pulls of your hold on him wrestling with james’, “—are going to hang out in bridey’s room!”
“oh no, really, it’s alright,” bridget chuckles, nodding to the doorway as she attempts to step out of your scheme’s spotlight, “i’ve got lots to do— super busy with dance practice—!”
you shake your head fervently, “no need to be so formal, b! we’ll have so much fun spending the whole night together; just us!”
you barely finish the sentence through a bitten-down grin and held-back laughs, before there’s a harsh tug on your cloak, and you’re torn from morgie and bridget; tumbling face-first in the opposite direction of the doorway you’d been making a show of edging the three of you towards.
you grunt as your face slams into someone’s chest—but, after the dizziness subsides, you let out a little hum at the silkiness of the blue shirt against your skin.
“hello, hades,” you chuckle, his hand possessively grabbing your hip to keep you close as you twirl in his hold—and look back at where you’d been standing a moment ago, to find maleficent appearing in front of you like a shadowy apparition of skintight black velvets and (only allegedly curse) gothic silver jewellery, blocking your view of a silently amused bridget (now standing alone, as morgie has been firmly place back beside james).
“well,” she smiles at you knowingly, “i’ll be on my way now—bye!”
you return her wave—even as hades gives a tug at your flowing sleeves to try to keep your arm down—grinning as you blow her a kiss, “see you later, sweetheart!”
the second bridget is over the threshold, uliana’s diy platform boots stomp forward and slams the door shut like the sound of thunder crashing.
however, you don’t so much as flinch when she whirls to you, even as gold bangles rattle like the ground beneath her feet as she glares at you with a thunderstorm in her eyes. the air is thick, your partners tightly strung (solely from the stranger barging into their space—and certainly not because of any sort of jealousy)—but your presence slices through the tension like a knife, your obvious nonchalance as you lean backwards to lounge against hades’ chest, seemingly unbothered by the silver spikes dotted along his leather jacket jabbing into your back, immediately disarming uliana’s attempt at intimidation.
with a tilt of your head and a coquettish smile, you give uliana a wave with a wiggle of your fingers, like a figure illuminated only by the dull light of a streetlamp beckoning a downtrodden stranger to follow you across damp cobblestone into the dark alleyway—where lies either a doorway to a mystical universe full of mystery and divine purpose, or a blunt object to the head (or, your favourite; perhaps a kiss.)
unsurprisingly, uliana is unimpressed by your apparent refusal to take her incredibly reasonable chagrin seriously—but her fury is quickly being pushed aside, as she can’t fight the way your cool composure (that is just a little bit sort of only slightly completely undeniably overwhelmingly attractive) snuffs out the fire in her chest (and simultaneously sets alight a new one, that tickles against her ribcage like butterfly wings).
james takes centre stage as uliana is rendered nothing but flustered huffs and glueing her eyes to the sight of toes scuffing against the carpet to avoid your heavy gaze.
“well, that was some escape attempt,” his usual smug smirk is replaced with a dramatic pout as he invades your line of sight, his voice flooding with mocking pity, “hanging around all those goodie two shoes really softened you up, huh? couldn’t handle five minutes alone with the big bad villains—had to go running for your princess to save you?”
you step toe-to-toe with your boyfriend, languid as you reply with a matter-of-fact; “i’m not scared of you.”
“oh?” he drags out the exclamation, matching your tone as he moves even closer until your chests are an inch away from colliding, “i think you are—your poor, soft, heart can’t handle anything that isn’t glitter or little pink rhinestones.”
“how about we skip castlecoming; spend the night together, in here, alone,” you meet uliana’s saucer-wide eyes over james’s shoulder as you purr the invite, your own smirk only growing as her mouth drops agape at your insinuation, “then i can show you all how truly not scared i am…”
you girlfriend’s heart pounds against her chest, the warmth in her cheeks bubbling like a potion gone awry, her fidgeting from a moment ago ceasing as she finds herself frozen in shock.
“you— that— wh— what?!” she sputters like she’s choking on the very real urge to accept your invite, “n-no— we— we can’t!”
she sounds like she’s almost trying to convince herself, as she slams her hands on her hips and shakes her head dizzily, “we have a— a bunch of— unfashionable, uncool royals to upstage! we are not skipping the event of the year for your— your deceitful schemes!”
and with that, she’s all but sprinting across the room to escape your orbit.
“i thought you liked my deceitful schemes,” you pout at her in faux hurt—that is decidedly dampened in its convincingness when a giggle bubbles up along with it—as she storms past you (and completely ignores you, in favour of her tunnel vision set on a mirror she plans to vacantly stare at as she makes herself look busy and desperately hope no one tries to follow her—knowing that one more second under any of your gazes and she is going to actually explode from the heat building up like raw sparks of electricity dusted across her cheeks and trailing up her nose).
with an eyeroll at your parting comment, maleficent grabs your chin to turn you to face her.
“i can see why you’d want to forgo castlecoming, with makeup like that,” she eyes bridget’s handiwork with a scowl (and a twinkle in her eyes that is none of your business, and has nothing to do with the fact that she actually does find a beauty in the way that damn princess somehow managed to make you even more stunning than your usual baseline of murder-your-filthy-rich-spouse-and-get-away-with-it gorgeous), “you should have asked someone who actually knows what they’re doing.”
“of course, next time i’m all yours,” you nod obediently, but the second of reprieve doesn’t last long, before she’s subjected to your cheeky smirk once more, “any excuse to be close to you, my black dahlia.”
her second eyeroll of the past minute is laced with fondness, a rare hint of a smile gracing her lips, as she gives a gentle pat to your cheek still in her hold, before releasing you, and returning to her vanity.
you grin at morgie as he passes by with a peck to your opposite cheek.
you tap your cheek expectantly as you turn to face where hades still stands behind you, who raises an amused eyebrow—and chuckles at your pout when he leans forward only to jab a finger into your cheek.
“if no one else will, i’ll admit it; you do look alright,” he nods to you with only the slightest hint of an appreciative smirk giving away anything but nonchalance.
“one might say… i look hot, like a fire?”
“yeah, yeah, fuck you,” he leaves you snorting to yourself at your own joke, wandering over to join maleficent and morgie where they labour over curating the perfect jewellery combinations.
after a twirl to survey the room, you set off with a flourish of your cape towards the full-length mirror which uliana and james barely so much as glance at, as she no doubt uses an extensive strain of nit-picky half-insults to try to shrug off her embarrassment as she complains about how horrible (and horribly attractive) her partners insist upon being.
her mouth snaps shut the second she spots your billowing red sleeves wrap around your boyfriend from behind—whilst you catch the flash of a smile from james when he realises it’s you, and guides your right hand that snakes around his chest to slip under the soft fabric of his shirt, as your left clasps where his other hand rests at his hip.
“…do you mind?” uliana squints at you, pointedly ignoring the way you pull at james’s shirt to reveal even more of his chest.
you simply shake your head in response, planting your chin atop his shoulder to admire them both in the mirror.
“have you considered showing off more of your chest, uli? it’s all the rage right now.”
james jostles the two of you as he throws his head back to laugh, and you use the momentum to rock your bodies side-to-side, until you tilt close enough to press a hand to the small of her back to pull your girlfriend closer, and sneak the flicker of a kiss against her own bare shoulder.
she can’t bring herself to fight your affection anymore; reduced to simply staring at you with doe-like eyes as your touch runs down her side softly.
“i hate you,” she whispers in a voice so tender you’ve half a mind to think perhaps you’d simply misheard her pleading for a kiss.
“oh i know,” you hum with a lazy smile, “me and my ‘deceitful schemes’.”
she whines, deep in her throat, pouting as she grumbles a pitiful, “nevermind.”
“aw, come here sweetheart,” you hold her cheek so she has a vessel to melt into—and a palm to nuzzle into—as the petname liquifies her bones where she stands, “i love you, too.”
with a kiss to your neck from behind, and the sound of those three little words mumbled smushed against your palm, your smile is blinding.
Love the morgie and hook dominant!reader, maybe another headcanon version with submissive!reader, sfw pillow princess vibes?
Sfw pillow princess is the funniest statement I’ve ever read but also I have NO CLUE how to describe what you’re asking for otherwise. I can absolutely do that love, I love playing with the dynamics of hook/reader/morgie they’re literally my boys
Babydoll
James Hook x GN! Reader x Morgie le Fay
No Pronouns Used
Warnings: SFW Dominance, vomit mention, pet names, mentions of makeout sessions but absolutley no detail what-so-ever, neck kiss mention, jealousy mention, hot type of possessive tendencies (not yandere shit), mentions of Hooks and spells being used violently
Word Count: 1.7K
Anyone who was anyone was well aware that Morgie le Fay was head over heels for you from the second you started at Merlin Academy.
Which is what shocked everyone when his roommate asked you out, nobody thought that Hook would betray him like that
Of course the rest of the school wasn’t aware that he had asked Morgie out too, for the same night, same time, and same place
James Hook has always been a man who knew exactly what he wanted, and what he wanted was you and Morgie. He had no shame in taking what he wants, and both of you were well aware of that
It was a shock to Morgie when James said they had to go pick you up before they could go, and it was a bigger shock when you had both guys who caught your attention standing outside of your door.
Not that Morgie could complain, even if his crush on you was more noticeable, he’d had a thing for Hook for years. Probably since the day that they moved into their freshman dorm.
And you weren’t one to complain either, having two extremely attractive guys fawn over you felt extremely good
Hook pulling out your chair for you, Morgie ordering for you when he could tell you were nervous about talking to the waiter
They were taking care of you, had you right where they wanted you. And it felt amazing, you needed it to be more than just one night
Lucky for you, neither boy had any plans of letting that night be the only one. There would be many more dinners and picnics and walks and whatever else they could think of to pull a smile out of you
The three of you made it official by your third date
It didn’t take either of them long to realize that you were putty in their hands when they did anything someone could consider as an act of dominance, and they surely did like that
Like you were their little doll, theirs to touch and tease and dress up, they loved that
Hook Focused Headcanons
Obviously, as the Captain of a pirate crew, James is used to being dominant in his life
But with you (and Morgie if the boy is also leaning towards being more submissive that day) he gets to be gentle in his dominance, and by god does he like that
His Hook pretty much stays tucked into one of your belt loops, holding you against him.
Lips constantly brushing over your temple or forehead, not pressing against them but leaving the ghost of a kiss on you. As if you’re fragile in some regard.
He can get more aggressive though, especially if you’re being bratty or someone else upset him
You’re no stranger to having kiss reddened lips from your place against a wall if he sees fit
But more so, he loves being able to be gentle with you
If you need help with something and he can tell, it’s “Love, let me help you” before you can open your mouth to ask for it
If you wear makeup and you’re getting frustrated with it, he’ll kneel in front of you and take over for you, damn near cooing at you about how pretty he thinks his partner is
He loves getting to introduce you and Morgie to people, “This is my partner, (Y/n) and our boyfriend, Morgie” he’s so proud of it
You spend an ungodly amount of time perched on his lap in the hideout or the courtyard (with Morgie’s hand tightly grasped in yours)
James isn’t much for holding hands, but as long as you’re okay with it he loves PDA. Again with the belt loop agenda, but also kissing your forehead/temple/cheek, and lap sitting, and kissing you at school dances. He’s got part of himself touching you pretty much at all times
Pet names fly off of this boy’s lips on basically every single sentence he lets out and you eat it up every single time
He likes to use different ones to see what you react to better, he takes a mental note on nicknames you seem to prefer.
If you’re clingy, he eats it up he adores feeling needed
Hook loves to pick out your outfits for you, especially when he can get you in colors that he and Morgie prefer to wear
After the first date, he continued to pull your chair out for you and scoot you back into the table any chance he got
Morgie focused Headcanons
You’re significantly more likely to be a brat for Morgie because he’ll put up with more before putting you in your place (unless Hook gets tired of it first and beats him to it)
Morgie isn’t huge on PDA but he loves to hold your hand. He actually prefers to hold one of yours in both of his, as if you’re absolutely precious
He carries your bag/books for you in the halls when you’re on the way to class
Morgie is really big on planning dates, he loves it. You and Hook just have to dress appropriately and show up, he’ll handle the rest
Has never and will never forget an anniversary or birthday, Morgie is on that.
Even though he’s not big on PDA, you best believe he’s kissing you before you part ways, just a little peck on the lips.
He’s really intune to your emotions, the slightest hint of you being any form of upset will lead to him opening his arms with a “Come here, Baby”
Puts your shoes on for you (+ties them if they need it)
Literally doesn’t let you carry anything, not because he thinks you can’t but because he doesn’t think you should have to
He’s a lot less likely to get aggressive with you (he will with Hook if James deserves it) but when he does, by god have you earned it
On nights where you end up staying with them without intending to, it’s always because of him. Morgie is no stranger to laying on top of you and dotting kisses on your neck and shoulder until you agree to stay the night with them
He has your go-to orders memorized, and unless you mention wanting something different that day he orders for you without having to ask
Big fan of buying you flowers, your nightstand never goes bare
He fixes your clothes or hair anytime he can notice them out of place as if it’s second nature for him
If you’re telling him something and get flustered and look away, he’s no stranger to tilting your chin back up and telling you to look at him.
Often is the one telling you to go to bed, he wants to sleep and also knows that you don’t sleep enough
He will tell you to ask him nicely if you ask for something while being bratty, and you’re not getting it until you ask nicely or get it yourself
Back to both of them
They will find any reason to have you stay the night with them (“It’s raining you can’t walk back to your dorm in that, Baby” “It’s far too cold for you to go back to your dorm, Love, you forgot your jacket.” “You know, Darling, we have plans early tomorrow, you may as well just stay here and we can get ready together”)
They’re not above referring to you as Theirs to others, no one gets to have the idea that you’re open to more than just the two of them
You haven’t had to actually get up and get something for yourself the majority of your relationship,they have you so incredibly spoiled
Both boys have a tendency to slide a hand on your back to guide you through crowds
They’re big on praise,both to you and from you. If you like something they’re doing, tell them
If you’re getting sick, Hook is holding your hair (or rubbing your back if your hair is shorter) while Morgie is getting 2 wet rags (one to wipe your mouth, the other for the back of your neck)
When they get you to sleep over, more often than not you fall asleep listening to James’ heartbeat with Morgie spooning you so incredibly warm and wrapped up in them
Or you’re the middle spoon, Hook curled up in your arms with Morgie’s face nuzzled into your hair
Rarely (as Hook hates to be the big spoon) you’ll fall asleep with your face nuzzled into Morgie’s chest, his arms stretched around you to rest on Hook who’s spooning you. All six of your legs creating a tangle
They don’t get jealous of each other (obviously) but by god do they get jealous of other people
If a prince gets a little too comfortable and starts flirting with you, there’s suddenly two guard dogs on either side of you, their hands wandering over you as they’re glaring
Which will end up with you in their dorm or a dark corner, them taking turns with your lips while the other whispers in your ear about how you’re theirs (Not that you need the reminder)
Rarely, when Morgie is feeling especially submissive, you two are the brat duo of James’ nightmares (he finds the both of you playing your attitudes off of each other mind-numbingly hot but be he wouldn’t admit that with a sword to his neck)
Hook rarely gets submissive but more so needy, laying down and looking over the two of you before demanding that you “Come cuddle”
Pirate ship dates where Hook is steering and Morgie is rubbing sunscreen on your back
Swimming with them is the absolute worst though, Hook loves to play colors and think of the most ridiculous colors to keep dunking you in the water (Who in their right mind thinks of burnt-sienna while playing colors) And marco polo with Morgie leads to him cheating every single time
They’re without a doubt protective over you, especially if you’re not a villain. No one is making their partner feel out of place
And if someone threatened you? That golden Hook or Morgie’s book of spells would be put to good use, no one is going to threaten you and get away with that
They’re obsessed with you, you hung the stars to them. They’d do whatever you wanted to make sure you were happy, to ensure that you don’t want to leave them (not that you’d ever so much as consider it)
summary: Merlin finds out his daughter is dating the son of his enemy, Morgie.
genre: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort
one-shot; wc: 1.8k — requested by @stargener
main masterlist morgie masterlist
a/n: it was so fun to write, although it took me a while to write, so i apologize for the long wait, i hope this was up to your expectation.
Sneaking out wasn’t easy especially for Morgie, being friends with the VK’s was hard, cuz god forbid what would happen if he gets caught even TALKING to a royal, but dating one? He might aswell sign his death sentence, but for the first time in his life, he didnt care, he was willing to risk it all, still he was careful, the VK’s aren’t the nicest people after all.
Y/n and Morgie have been dating for quite some time now, in secret of course, dating a goody two shoes is one thing, but dating merlin’s daughter is whole different thing.
Sure, Merlin allowed villains to enrol to his school but that doesn’t mean he was fond of them, they were troublemakers after all, so god knows how he would react if he finds out his daughter is dating one.
Morgie was calmly making his way around the town near the academy, he was trying to look as normal as possible, but inside he couldn’t wait to see his princess. Y/n and him had planned to meet at a cafe in town, where they provide private booths, so the two can finally feel like a normal couple at a cafe without anyone seeing.
When he arrived at cafe, he wasn’t surprised to see the her were already there, always the punctual goody two shoes.
“And here i thought i’d surprise you by being early” Morgie slid next to her, leaning down to kiss her.
“Mhmm, as if you’ll ever beat me” Y/n said chuckling softly.
Morgie knew that being punctual was important to Y/n so he always tried his best to be on time even though at times he can be late.
“I hope you haven’t been waiting long for me” Morgie said as he grabbed the menu from the table before wrapping his arm around her shoulder as she leaned into him.
“I haven’t, don’t worry- oh! we should try that one” y/n pointed at the couple’s special on the menu. It wasn’t anything “special” really, just a large strawberry milkshake with two straws, some whipped cream and a cherry on top.
“Ohhhh, romantic” Morgie teased “ok, let me go order and i’ll be right back” he rubbed their noses together, before actually leaving to order.
Unfortunately when he left his booth, a certain group of people were entering their own booth saw him.
“What’s he doing here?” Hook asked with a confused look on his face.
“I dont know and i dont care, lets just order” Maleficent said before sitting down and grabbing the menu immediately with Hades following right behind her.
Meanwhile Hook and Uliana gave each other a look, deciding to stay hidden keeping a look at the booth Morgie just left, it was covered with a black curtain like the rest of the seats.
Morgie not noticing the prying eyes, hummed happily with their order in hand before entering their booth.
Uliana and Hook eyes widen at the sight, the daughter of their dear principal Merlin, on a date, with a villain? ‘
This is gonna be good’ Hook and Uliana thought before joining Hades and Maleficent.
“Our little Morgie has been hiding a dirty little secret from us and he’ll pay for it” Uliana said maliciously.
“What is she talking about?” Hades asks Hook.
“He is out on a date with y/n l/n” he smirks.
Maleficents eyes widen “as in principal Merlins daughter, y/n l/n?”
“Yep”
Once y/n arrive back to her dorm, she was confused to see a letter from her father asking her to meet him in his office.
Upon arriving at her father’s office, y/n grew anxious at the absolute silence the place had, usually her father would clumsily searching for things but when she entered, the door behind her closed immediately, she saw her father at his chair rubbing his temples.
“Dad? Is everything okay?” The girl asked as she walked towards her dad.
“Sit.” The harsh tone of her usually nice father made her heart beat faster as she sat down as fast as she could.
“What happened?” She was met with silence.
“I want you to tell me the truth, y/n” Merlin finally looked at her in the eyes.
“Are you dating Morgie Le Fay?” Her dad asked with cold voice.
Her heart pounded against her chest in panic, she could feel her lungs closing in, tears prickling her eyes, how did her father find out?
“Wha-what? No! No, i-i would never!” She denied stuttering trying hard to convince her father with that one single sentence.
“Y/n! WHY WOULD DATE A VILLAIN!?” Her father slammed his fist on the table.
“I told you, im not!” The girl continued to deny.
“THE SON OF MY ENEMY!? SERIOUSLY!?”
“Dad- NO! I’m not dating anyone!!”
“Stop with the lying! I don’t want you anywhere near that boy ever again!” Her father warned
“What!? No!?” Y/n stood up, facing her father with a panicked looked on her face.
“If you’re not dating him then avoiding him wont be a problem, right? If you go near him, i will know.” Merlin said before leaving the room leaving his daughter alone.
“No..” the girl whispered before sitting back down, her legs weak, heart heavy, sobbing her eyes out with no one to comfort her.
As days passed, Morgie continued to try and talk to her, it broke her heart to avoid him everytime but she didn’t have a choice.
While she wasn’t exactly sure how her father found out but she had an inkling feeling that it had something to do with the VK’s, snickering at her everytime they happen to pass by each other, i mean, how can they do this to their friend? To Morgie? But she guessed that villains will be villains.
Morgie on the other hand, was hurt and confused about why his girlfriend suddenly started ignoring him out of nowhere, he thought everything was fine between them.
The Vk’s was hanging out in the courtyard, Uliana making fun of Bridget and Ella as usual, normally he would be laughing along with them but today, he cant find it in himself to care, he stared into air thinking about everything he could’ve done to anger his girlfriend enough to ignore him. He can’t wrap his head around it.
“Right, Morgie?” Hook nudged him chuckling.
“Huh?” Morgie asked, he didnt know what they were talking about.
“You ok, Morgs?” Maleficent asked noticing the weird behaviour of her friend.
“Hmm, yeah im fine, just tired, i think im gonna head back to my dorm now” Morgie said before standing up and walking away.
“ its only 4 in the afternoon” Hades said.
Hook and Uliana looked at each other with guilt.
Later that night, a knock was heard from outside of Morgies dorm.
“What?” Morgie asked annoyed at the interruption from his sulking.
“We need to talk to you about something” Uliana said, with a look of…guilt? Nono, that can’t be, Uliana doesnt feel anything other than hatred.
“What is it?”
“Can we come in?”
“Sure” Morgie said opening the door wider for them.
There was silence in the room, Morgie waiting for them to say something.
“We were the one who told principal Merlin about your relationship with L/n” Hook confessed.
“WHAT!?” Morgie was livid “ARE YOU CRAZY!? THATS CRUEL!” he scoffed “EVEN FOR YOU PEOPLE”.
“We’re so-“
“HOW DID YOU EVEN KNOW!?”
“When you went to the cafe with her” Uliana said hesitantly.
“AND YOU DIDNT EVEN TELL ME!? What? You just told the principal, without even confirming with me, i cant believe you guys” Morgie was disappointed at his friends.
“Look, we’re sorry-“ Hook started.
“Yeah? Well, sorry isnt going to bring her back to me, is it?” Morgie glared at them.
“We can help” Uliana pleaded.
“Just leave guys, i dont want to look at you right now” Morgie sat down on his bed with his back turned to them.
He felt pats on his back along with small apologies.
Meanwhile on the other side of the campus, you can find a girl in her bed sobbing her heart while listening to sad songs, when a knock was heard from her door, she knew that it was her father so she just ignored it but that didnt stop the bearded man to enter her room.
“I didn’t answer the door bc i wanted you to come in” the girl said sitting up from her bed and removing her headphones before brushing her tears away.
The mans heart broke at the sight of his daughters tear stricken face, he knew it was his fault, how miserable he made his daughter.
“Oh sweetie” the man sat next to his daughter.
“Look at you, i am so sorry, dear, i let my anger towards his mother get in the way of your relationship, i truly apologise” the dad caressed his daughters hair who looked at him shocked.
“What made you change your mind?” The girls asked.
“He makes you so happy, dear, I cant bear to see you like this, i dont want to ever see you crying, especially because of me” the dad explained, his tone filled with understanding and love.
“Are you sure?” The girl asked hopefully.
“Yes. For a villain, he’s not so bad” he joked making the girl chuckle “as long as he treats you like the princess you are, you have my blessing”
“Oh!! Thank you, Dad!! Thank you, thank you, thank youu!!!!” Y/n hugged her dad tightly.
The next day, the girl didnt waste time to search for her dear boyfriend.
Both meeting in the courtyard of the school, running to each other as they fall into each others arms, tenderly kissing.
“I’m so sorry” both of them said at the same time.
“Why are you saying sorry for?” Y/n asks confused.
“It was Hook and Uliana who told your father about us, they saw us at the cafe that day, im so sorry” Morgie apologized.
“No, it wasn’t your fault, it was mine, my father didnt react well to us being together so i ignored you, im sorry” the girl countered.
“I will beg principal Merlin to let us be together, i would do anything for you” Morgie said connecting their foreheads together and caressing her cheek.
“You don’t have to, because we have his blessing “ the girl stared into his eyes grinning.
“What? Are- are you serious!?” The boy said holding the girls face in his hands, the girl nodded to which the boy lifted her off the ground and span her around.
pairing: morgie le fay x fem!reader (requested)
(note: reader is merlin's daughter)
SUMMARY: you, the perfect child and student, have always been the epitome of righteousness. but what happens when you encounter a particularly annoying VK one night, when you're out doing something you're not supposed to?
GENRE: pure, unbridled, heart-wrenching angst (I recommend a box of tissues), action scenes, some light humor, a bit of comfort, flirty banter
CW: absent mother, neglectful father, family troubles, cursing, magical fighting, a bit of blood, threats, mentions of violence and stealing, heavy emotions
WC: 15.2k (to those of you hungry for morgie fics…you have been fed)
BACKGROUND: the mirror of ytirev is pronounced yih-tur-ev, the spells are all in latin (for anyone wondering)
A/N: this got a loooot longer and deeper than I thought it would...seriously how did we get here. I had fun adding some touches of light humor to offset the angst, and experimenting with different pov's was nice too. sooo go get comfy and settle down, and have fun reading this! (the ending is worth it I swear). thank you to the anon who requested this for all the details, I hope you enjoy! all feedback is highly appreciated, I'd love to know your thoughts and reactions!
A piercing clatter sounds from somewhere behind you. You whip around, eyes locking with snake-like slits glowing in the dark.
Shit, you think.
They finally discovered my secret.
“…can anyone explain to me the properties of goblin mucus?” the teacher of your Magical Artifacts and Antiquities class asks.
A hand shoots up, causing a smile to spread on her face as she calls on the student—only to be met with the reply, “Miss, it says in our textbook that there’s a highly powerful and dangerous artifact stored here, in Merlin Academy. What’s that all about?”
The teacher’s smile falters for a brief second, but she answers the question regardless. “Yes, every class today has asked me about that. It seems like it’s only the dangerous objects that attract students’ attention. Class, turn to page two hundred seventy-five, where there is a more detailed explanation.”
Everyone flips through the pages of their books, more eager to learn than they’ve been for the entire lesson. Your teacher waits a moment before continuing.
“As it says in your textbooks, the Mirror of Ytirev is indeed kept in this school, although it is locked away in a very safe and secure place. For everyone’s safety, and the Mirror’s security. Now, can anyone tell me how it was created?”
You raise your hand swiftly, already knowing the answer from having read this chapter before it was even covered in class, along with the next three chapters. “After the creator of the Evil Queen’s magic mirror originally made it, he accidentally dropped it on the floor, causing it to shatter. He reconstructed the mirror using the larger shards, which became the famed mirror that eventually ended up in the hands of the Evil Queen. But there were still many miniscule fragments left from the first mirror, so he melted them again and made a smaller, weaker version of the Evil Queen's mirror. The small mirror is known today as the Mirror of Ytirev.”
Your teacher beams again at your perfect recitation. “That is precisely correct, Y/N. Although I don’t expect anything less from the headmaster’s daughter, of course.
“This mirror has the ability to show its user exactly one truth, an answer to any question. But since its original form was shattered, its magic is no longer stable. That’s why it is covered in this chapter,” she continues to the class. “As you can see in the image in your textbook, it is a portable artifact, putting it in Category D, Type Three.”
You look down at your textbook, studying the picture of the mirror, despite having looked at it before. It depicts a vintage handheld mirror, encased in a detailed and ornate silver frame that surrounds the glass itself. The intricate carvings of the metal create symmetrical twin arches at the top of the mirror, ending in fancy loops. In these arches two bright red gemstones are set, their edges cleanly cut and shining brilliantly. The glass of the mirror looks almost cracked, although you know it isn't really.
Just as the thought passes through your mind, someone calls out, “Why is the mirror cracked? I thought the creator fixed it.”
The answer pops up in your brain before the teacher even opens her mouth, but you still patiently listen to her as she explains to the rest of the class. “It’s not really cracked, it just appears that way to anyone who looks at it. The only time someone can see the mirror’s smooth surface is if they’re staring directly in the eyes of their own reflection. When someone does this, it is rumored they will see the truest form of themselves, the truth they desire the most.”
Someone else raises their hand, and the teacher calls on them this time. “So,” they ask, “you can get the answer to anything from that? Like how to become rich or live forever?”
The teacher masks what you can tell is a rather displeased look with yet another—fake—smile. She turns to face the entire class, a telltale sign that the student said something wrong. “Now, as we all know, there’s always a price to magic. When it comes to this mirror, due to its unstable powers, there are many prices.”
She continues her lecture, one that provides you with absolutely no new information, but being the ever-diligent student you are, you continue to listen intently. “If you look at the next page, it explains that anyone who wishes to use the Mirror must first present an offering that is very dear to them. If the Mirror accepts the offering, it allows the person to ask their question.”
“And if it doesn’t?” your classmate asked.
“Does anyone know the answer to that?” The teacher looks around the class, before her eyes land on you. “Y/N?”
You brighten up at being called on, before rattling off the information as if it was common knowledge. “If the Mirror doesn’t accept the offering, or if it becomes displeased for any other reason, it will drag the person’s soul not to enlightenment, but to eternal torment. They will end up losing their mind and going crazy, with any form of intelligent life getting absorbed by the Mirror.”
“Correct again,” your teacher praises, and you beam. “And if that's not enough to ward any of you off, keep in mind that everyone who has ever used the Mirror has gone completely mad. No one has ever obtained the answer they sought; instead, they were all lost to its evil spirit. And let me assure you, many people throughout history have attempted to use the Mirror, only to fail. Therefore, it was voted as too dangerous for any beneficial uses by the Department of Magical Security. That is why it is contained here, under the watchful eye of our very own Headmaster Merlin.”
At the mention of your father, everyone turns to stare at you, as if you’re somehow the reason the Mirror is locked up. Despite the stifling moment of silence, you shrug off the unwanted attention. After all, you’re used to this. Used to the looks that other kids give you when you receive special attention from teachers for being the smartest one, for always raising your hand, for answering questions perfectly, for acing every test and having every homework assignment completed—yet refusing to share your answers (“But if I tell you the answers, how will you ever learn?”).
Used to the whispers that follow you everywhere you go, rumors of your family life; how your mother must have left because of your father’s bad habits, or neglect, or because she was having an affair with another man. Constant reminders of the past.
Used to how everyone walks on eggshells around you, how they all put you on a ledge far away from them. How people’s conversations quiet as you pass by, afraid you’ll go and report them to your father at the slightest whiff of mischief. How they always eye you when they pass notes in class or plan a prank—as if you weren't already aware of what they were doing—sometimes even begging you not to tell on them.
Used to how teachers and adults in your life expect the absolute best of you. Even when there’s no more left of yourself to give.
How they expect you to be the absolute best, a paragon of righteousness. You always have to determine the right decision, make the right call, be the epitome of morality and virtue. This is your burden to bear, all by yourself; instead of worries over bad grades or boys, you suffer under the crushing weight of the expectations of everyone around you. The expectations of society.
Briiiiiiingg! The sound of the bell marking the end of class snaps you out of your musings. “Um, Miss?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the sounds of everyone packing their bags.
“You didn’t tell us what our homework assignment is for tonight.”
“Oh, that’s right! Thank you for reminding me, Y/N,” the teacher exclaims amidst a chorus of groans, along with a few colorful words directed your way. “Everyone, please finish up chapter three and be prepared to turn in your report on seventh century runes by the start of tomorrow’s class.”
After all, you’re used to how right they are about you.
…Or so they think.
“Oh good, Y/N! I was looking for you all over, you know,” a panting, all-too familiar voice calls out from behind you. You freeze in your tracks, grimacing. After a deep breath, you paint a smile on your face, before turning around.
A tall man, although much shorter due to his slouched posture, hurries towards you animatedly. His short, dark brown hair is matted against the top of his head, and a thick, bushy beard trails down from his chin, rounding above his mouth in a matching mustache. He dons a pair of thin spectacles that hang low on his large nose, dressed in a dark blue robe with faint golden embroidery and a waistcoat to match. A little brown stick juts out from a hidden pocket inside his robe, an object you can only assume to be his wand—which you are quite shocked he hadn’t lost today yet.
“Dad!” you say as enthusiastically as you can muster, but if anyone had been looking closely, they would have seen the way you ever so slightly cringe as he stumbles towards you. You silently thank the heavens that this man doesn’t pay much attention to anything. Not even to his own family.
Merlin clambers towards you, gripping one of your shoulders once you’re within arm’s length. He pants, leaning his weight on you as he catches his breath.
“Dad, what is it?” you ask him, trying your best not to fall over from supporting him.
“I-I…k-keys,” he wheezes.
“You lost your keys?” This certainly isn't the first time he’s come to you with this problem, and you definitely won't bet it'll be his last.
He nods, clutching his chest as his breathing finally evens out. “Phew,” he says, letting go of your shoulder. “My spare keys to my office…I can’t seem to find where I’ve put them.”
“You mean that big ring that has a copy of about every single key needed to unlock absolutely anything in this school?” you ask, incredulous at the way he nods feverishly. Honestly, how he doesn’t see the issue with what you just plainly pointed out is beyond you.
“Nope, haven’t seen them,” you reply. “Have you checked under the counter? Inside your desk drawers? In the little pockets sewn in the other pockets in all of your robes? On top of a clothing rack? Under the vase of orchids? In the fish bowl? In the left sock from your pair that has those reindeers on them?”
He nods at each one, sometimes hesitating as if recalling something deep in his memory , but then continuing to fervently nod nonetheless. You sigh again. “Well, I don’t know then. I suppose you’ve found someplace new to hide them this time.”
“Hmm…” he mutters, scratching his beard.
“Well, Dad, I don’t know if you heard, but I, uh, I made top student of my year last quarter. For the fifth consecutive time,” you mention, trying to ease into the conversation, albeit very tentatively and with great unease. Most people’s parents would applaud them and give them a prize for merely getting an A. Yours, on the other hand, barely remembers which grade you’re in.
Your father snaps his head up, staring at you with an eccentric haze in his eyes. You feel a small glimmer of hope; maybe he’s going to give you a pat on the back this time, or perhaps offer to take you out for a celebratory dinner. You wait for his response, completely still as if frozen in time, anticipation buzzing throughout every nerve.
“Wait…I believe I put it in the mouth of that owl statue…” He freezes erratically, brow furrowed in deep concentration, before releasing the tension in his body and going back to slumping. “No, I think I already checked there.”
You take a nice, long, deep breath, using up every last ounce of your carefully practiced self-control, which you had perfected through years of deploying in stifling social situations that made you want to crawl out of your own skin, to remain calm in this moment. “Well, I hope you find it.” Giving him one last attempt at even a semblance of a smile, you sharply turn back around on your heel, continuing down the hall to your first class of the day.
Watching the early morning rays of sunshine through the tall windows of the corridor, you think back to the discussion you had yesterday in your Artifacts class. You had answered every question correctly, every fact written in ink not only committed to memory but etched into the very foundation of your brain.
You wonder if he knows of all the hard work you put into school. All the grueling hours you spend studying, all the sleepless nights you spend fighting against your body’s very nature to stay awake and keep your eyes open just enough to read the page. Heck, you wonder if he even remembers that your birthday is coming up next month—or that you gave him your wish list ages ago to ensure that he gets at least one present you asked for, unlike other years.
No, of course he doesn’t remember, you remind yourself. He doesn’t care about me. He never did.
Just like he didn’t care about Mom when she disappeared.
“Ugh, my nail chipped again. I should find the girl who did these and squeeze her to death.”
A tentacle floating in midair tightens and coils around nothingness, miming the strangulation of an innocent soul with a disturbing nonchalance. A girl with dark skin and long locks in colors such as blue, teal, and yellow, done up in a small bunch on top of her head, checks the painted nails on her left hand with a scowl on her face.
“Come on, Uli, you’re getting your nails done like, every week,” the god of the Underworld replies, indifference practically seeping through his spiked leather jacket as he chews gum and gives the sea witch a look. “At least find yourself someone better.”
“Don’t tell me what to do!” Uliana snaps, dropping her hand exasperatedly as she huffs.
A sorceress with purple eyeshadow and two sleek, black horns protruding from the sides of her head rolls her eyes as she complains, “This is so boring.”
“Well, what do you suggest we do then, love?” a crisply accented voice asks, sounding from a boy with neatly parted brown hair and a golden hook that ends in a sharp, gleaming point.
“Did you hear that there’s a, like, super dangerous magical object being kept here?” Maleficent asks, somehow keeping her voice incredibly monotonous and deathly uninterested, even as her words themselves convey enthusiasm.
“Yeah, apparently it can tell anyone anything they want to know,” Hades replies. “I don’t know why they’re keeping it here, though.”
Uliana turns back to the group, a malicious glint in her eye. Even before she opens her mouth, the boy with powers rather similar to those of a snake can already guess what she’s going to say.
“How about we go steal it?” she asks, a wicked grin already twisting onto her features.
“You do realize that everyone who’s ever used it has gone mad, right?” Hook asks, raising his eyebrows incredulously as he gives Uliana a look of disbelief.
“We won’t use it ourselves, idiot,” she snaps. “But it’ll be fun to steal it and cause a panic. Right, Morgie?”
Morgie swallows, looking up at Uliana with wide eyes. “Of course! C’mon, you guys. Think of the mischief we can cause with it! We can make people think some kids used it and went crazy”—he leans in, excitement growing as he speaks, making wide gestures with his hands—“and everyone would be so scared! They’d probably cancel school, too!”
Uliana grins diabolically again. “Morgie, honey,” she starts, slipping one of her tentacles under his chin, lifting his face up towards her. “How about you do this one?”
“I-I, uh…” he stammers, uncertainty laced in his voice. He definitely wasn't expecting this turn of events.
“Come on, please,” Uliana pouts. “Do it for me? After all, you’re only stealing a little mirror. How hard can that be?”
Morgie glances up at her again, before tugging uncomfortably on the black scarf wrapped around his neck. “But…it’s super dangerous…”
“Don’t you want to be evil? Don't you want to wreak havoc and cause pain?” Uliana taunts. “Or, are you”—she lets out a faux gasp—“afraid?”
“N-no, not at all!" Morgie exclaims, trying to sound more courageous than he feels. “I’ll do it!”
“Perfect,” the sea witch coos, removing her tentacle arm. “You’ll do it tonight.” She turns back to the group, adding, “I hear that old troll keeps the most dangerous and evil artifacts locked up in a room off the east wing, on the third level.”
Morgie gulps, already trying to wrap his head around the fact that he’d be doing the heist tonight. Hook, jumping off a ledge, asks, “You mean the one guarded by different spells and magical alarms?”
Uliana grins wickedly. “Nothing a little bit of Kraken Powder can’t fix.” She holds up a small vial hanging from a string around her neck like a necklace. It's common knowledge how incredibly rare Kraken Powder is, which makes sense, given how potent its anti-magic properties are.
Everyone catches on to what Uliana's implying, causing the group to all laugh together at their evil plan. Morgie tries his best to join along, but he can’t quite seem to get rid of the uneasy knot already forming in the pit of his stomach.
“You remember the plan?”
Uliana’s slippery tentacles glisten under the moonlight, flailing around behind her in midair. Morgie nods, attempting to still his quivering hands before Uliana notices them. He tries, with a miserable sense of impending doom, to swallow the lump in his throat, but to no avail.
“Here, I stole these from Merlin’s office,” Uliana explains as one of her tentacles drops a large ring filled with probably around two dozen keys, each in various shapes and colors, straight into Morgie's open palm. “One of these has to fit the door. You didn’t forget what you need to do, right?”
Morgie clears his throat, choking out a meager, “Yep.” He pockets the keys, seriously hoping they don’t clink together and make too much noise while he moves. As Uliana already repeated a hundred times, “It’s crucial you don’t get caught.”
Morgie reaches up to touch the vial hanging from his neck yet again, making sure it’s still there—after all, better safe than sorry. Once more, he glances at the large grandfather clock in the common area where he and Uliana lurk in the shadows, waiting. Finally, its bells chime midnight, and Uliana turns back to him as the ringing reverberates around them.
“Go, hurry!” the sea witch urges, pushing him toward the door with a tentacle.
Morgie nods, hurriedly rushing to the exit. The first part of the plan—a plan he so diligently committed to memory—is for him to sneak out while the bells are still ringing, to mask the sound of the door opening and closing. Thankfully, he makes it out by the tenth chime, carefully closing the door to make sure the latch doesn’t sound by the eleventh.
Okay, I’m really doing this, Morgie thinks as he stares into the deserted corridor. He tiptoes around silently, but still as quickly as possible. Time is, obviously, of utmost importance in missions like this.
At last, he reaches his destination. The unassuming—and misleadingly so—wooden door looms over him, ominous through the lens of his knowledge of what lies beyond it.
An amateur villain would simply pick the lock and open the door, but Morgie is too experienced in such endeavors to make a rookie mistake like that (Uliana told him what to do, step-by-step).
He hovers his hand above the lock, taking a steadying breath as he summons the powers that reside within him. His pupils shrink into the tiniest slivers of blackness as a dark, magical smoke emits from his palm. He makes a faint hissing noise, reciting an old incantation in a tongue far different from what normal humans use, and the lock softly clicks as the door creaks open. Practically inviting him inside.
Morgie pushes it open the rest of the way, making sure to shut it behind him so as to not raise the suspicion of any night guards roaming the halls.
He turns back around, now faced with a dark, menacing hallway. Walking slowly down it, he looks around with a chilling captivation. Old suits of armor leer down at him, rustic and each coated with a thick layer of dust. Large spiderwebs cover every visible nook and cranny, which makes Morgie exceedingly grateful that the actual spiders aren't in his line of sight.
At the end of the corridor stands yet another large door, matching the first. This one, according to Uliana, has even more security than the other. Time to use my secret weapon, Morgie thinks, reaching to pull the vial of Kraken Powder out from under his shirt. He opens the cap and sprinkles a little of the finely grained dust into his palm, then blows it over the lock of the door.
At first glance, it appears the powder didn’t work, as nothing seem to change. But anyone with an affinity for magical energy can feel the spells placed on the lock of the door melt away without a trace.
After the door is unarmed, Morgie fishes in his pocket for the keys. They clang horribly as he pulls them out, echoing up into the tall ceiling of the hallway. He freezes, listening intently for footsteps somewhere outside. When he hears none, Morgie begins the task of figuring out which key fits the lock.
He goes through nearly half the ring (Seriously, who keeps all their keys in one place?) before finding the one that fits perfectly. Twisting it with a swift movement, the door unlocks, and he creeps inside.
To his immense shock, there isn't a room behind the door filled with evil objects or piled with gold coins. Instead, there’s a…
…library?
Morgie walks inside, utterly confused. Had Uliana gotten the location wrong? No, there's no way. The doors were too guarded for a normal library.
He continues down one of the aisles, wondering why he's never seen this place before. It is extremely large, with arched ceilings meters and meters above his head. Tall bookshelves tower over him, so tall that he can barely see the highest shelves.
Lined against the walls and placed on the shelves are also glass jars and containers filled with seemingly normal items: a seashell necklace, a deck of playing cards, a cane with the head of a snake. But there's something sinister about them; some strange aura that hovers above each object. In fact, it fills the entire expanse of the library.
Morgie stops by one of the shelves, reading the titles. He brushes his fingers along one of the spines—and that’s when he feels it. An ominous energy rushes through his fingertips, electrifying his every nerve at it travels through him, causing him to realize that this is no normal book. It’s a book of dark magic.
He spins around in a circle, eyeing the entirety of the library. Now that he thinks about it, the whole place has the heavy atmosphere of dark magic. And that’s when it hits him: this is no normal library, and neither are the books. This is the room of forbidden artifacts. It just so happens that most of those artifacts are books, probably containing content deemed too dangerous for normal people to learn.
Morgie briefly considers taking a few of the books off the shelves and perusing through them, or maybe even slipping a couple in his jacket and taking them back with him. After all, all these forbidden books must have countless evil spells and potions. If he and the rest of his group got their hands on these…
However, after a moment of serious consideration, he decides the better of it. He's here for another purpose, and Uliana would be outraged if he only came back with a few meager books, no matter the contents.
Continuing through the labyrinth of shelves, Morgie looks around meticulously, trying to figure out a rhyme or reason to the order of things. No student has ever been in here, and he doubts many of the teachers have, either. Therefore, there were no references or guides to help him and his friends figure out where in the room the Mirror is located. Plus, he doesn’t think any of them had expected the place to be so colossal—he surely hadn't.
After a few minutes of stumbling around in the near darkness, he finally comes across a ladder leaning against one of the shelves. It’s so tall he can’t see the top of it, but deciding it’s his best chance at finding his bearings, Morgie begins the long climb up.
He isn’t really afraid of heights. Not in the way that some people refuse to go on anything more than a few feet off the ground. But he honestly doesn’t see how anyone couldn’t feel at least a little queasy at the high altitude. I must be a dozen meters off the ground, Morgie realizes as he glances down. I wonder what would happen if I fell—
He cuts the thought off before he can imagine the gruesome details. Instead, he looks back up and around the library. From all the way up here, he can see the top of the shelves, and he really was right: this place was designed to be a maze.
On the far side of the area, his eyes spot lots of glass cases reflecting the soft moonlight and flames of enchanted candles. That must be where most of the objects are kept. Chances are, the Mirror’s there too.
He mentally charts out a course through the labyrinth, trying to remember the directions for more than two seconds. Right, left, left again, forward, right, right again, left, forward—or wait, was it right? After a few minutes, he climbs back down the ladder, praying to the demons of the Underworld that he remembers the path correctly and doesn’t get lost.
Morgie makes his way through the maze, growing more and more fascinated by the creepy and wonderful objects around him. He can’t stop thinking about how nice—and useful—it would be to pocket some of them, or maybe come back here and spend more time studying them. Every time he passes by something that intrigues him, his mind immediately wonders if it would fit inside his clothes.
Despite this, he resists the urge to steal things, as he can’t have anything weighing him down in case there are more challenges or enchantments he has to disarm before getting the Mirror. But perhaps on the way back…
His train of thought drifts away as he finally reaches a large area that is surrounded by glass cases, on tables and lining the shelves set into the walls. He never imagined there would be so many forbidden artifacts in total, much less in one place, although maybe that's because he's never really paid attention in class.
From the top of a shelf a few meters away, something catches his eye. A mysterious, eerie white fog pours from one of the highest shelves, dissipating as it cascades down the front of the bookcase. He remembers hearing something about mist related to the Mirror, and deciding it’s worth a shot, he moves closer to check it out.
And that’s when he sees it.
A dark flurry of movement from another one of the top shelves catches his attention. Morgie snaps his head up, brows furrowing as he squints, eyes trailing the structures above him. But he can’t quite make out anything, at least not in the faint light, so he hesitantly shrugs it off and continues towards the mysterious fog—albeit not being able to shake off the strange feeling he has that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
He takes a few more steps, and just as he's nearly convinced himself he’s only being paranoid, it happens again. Now that he’s closer, he can see there’s another tall ladder reaching up to around where the movement is happening, close to the Mirror. This time, his eyes register the shape.
A dark, human figure moves up the ladder, blending in and out of the shadows.
Morgie’s eyes grow wide, pupils shrinking back into snake-like slits as a reptilian hiss escapes his mouth. There shouldn't be anyone else here.
The figure freezes in place before turning around to face him, hanging halfway up the ladder. Although Morgie can’t see their face, concealed by a thick black hood, he can tell they saw him.
He stretches out his arms, summoning black magic that swirls around his hands and up to his elbows again. After but a second of him and the hooded figure staring at each other—which somehow felt like an hour—Morgie throws his arm forward, aimed for the figure.
A ball of twisting dark energy shoots from his hand and towards the hooded face. The figure ducks down, dodging the attack. Undeterred, Morgie hurls more swirls of dark magic. The figure dodges the first few of them, but they must have realized that merely ducking down won't be enough to win this fight, because they summon a shield of buzzing yellow electricity to block the next few attacks.
Morgie quickly becomes aware that he isn’t winning the fight like this; he needs a new strategy. And that’s when he spots it.
He puts his hands close together in front of his chest, gathering a potent sphere of black magic between his palms. The figure stands there, motionless, still hanging onto the ladder.
If you can’t knock them down, pull the carpet out from under their feet.
He thrusts both of his hands forward, sending the ball of magic not at the figure, but at the base of the ladder instead. By the time they realize what he's doing, it’s too late.
Morgie’s magic collides with the bottom rungs, exploding the material and sending wooden splinters flying everywhere. He watches as the figure falls, swiftly summoning a flash of lightning below them as they plummet, easing the crash as they hit the ground.
The aftermath of the explosion has Morgie ducking down and covering his face with his arm, barely being able to make out what happened to the hooded person. As the dust finally settles, Morgie spots the figure get up, gripping their head as if in pain. They stumble a little, then bush off their black robe as they check for other injuries.
As if abruptly remembering why they had fallen, they spin around to face Morgie. He stares, wide-eyed in pure disbelief, as the figure comes face-to-face with him. Even though they don’t seem to be too hurt, and definitely still alive, the force of the impact caused their hood to be knocked off their head.
Morgie’s mouth drops open as he registers the figure’s face.
There, in front of him, in the forbidden archive harboring some of the world's most dangerously powerful magical objects during the dead of night, stands the headmaster’s daughter.
Your grimace grows as you lock eyes with a boy with light brown hair, hazel eyes shrunk into slits resembling a snake’s, causing your head to throb even worse.
You watch as the realization dawns upon the boy’s face, cursing the skies for this little issue that you now have to deal with.
He knows your secret.
“Y-you, you, you’re the headmaster’s daughter,” he sputters out, disbelief still painted on his face, as clear as day. Seriously, if he keeps his jaw open like that, it’ll fall off.
“Yeah, no shit,” you spit back, not paying much attention to his stunned little face. Your mind is overwhelmed with a swirling whirlwind of thoughts and ideas on how to get rid of this new liability, each plan vying for your attention, each one crueler than the last.
After all, now that he knows who you really are, how you're not a rule-abiding goody-goody, there’s no point in keeping up your sweet, innocent facade. You finally let your mask slip off, the mask that you wear constantly in the presence of others. The mask that you only relieve yourself of when you’re all alone, with no one to see your callous, vindictive, cynical side. Your true side.
Ever since that day, at least. The day that forever changed your life.
“What are you doing here?” the boy stammers, as if it isn't already dreadfully obvious.
“The same thing you’re doing here.”
“How do you know what I’m doing here?”
You sigh, rubbing your temples. Honestly, this kid could not be more of a dunderhead. “Look, I don’t have time for this. Either get out of my way, or I’ll make you get out of my way.”
At your threat, the boy, whose name you happen to remember from a class you took with him last year, changes his stance. Morgie widens his legs, arms fanned out besides him whilst summoning dark energy that clings to his skin, alive and breathing, yet submissive to its master’s will.
“Aren’t you like, a goody-goody?” he asks, face still scrunched in confusion. “I’ve heard teachers go on and on about how good your grades are, how polite you are, how you’re the perfect student.”
You roll your eyes, annoyed at his relentless questions. It 's already bad enough that he knows this much. You don't need him finding out more.
“Well, looks can be deceiving,” you respond as vaguely as possible, hoping that it’ll shut him up. Instead, he cocks his head to the side, shooting back, “I don’t really think so.”
You try your best to not encourage him and his irritating questions, but you can’t help but begrudgingly ask, “How so?”
Morgie looks at you for a beat with an intent gaze, before replying, “I always thought you were too pretty for a hero.”
Uh, excuse me, what? you think. Now it’s your turn to be shocked. “You don’t find me scary?” You had always assumed that people would be terrified if they saw your real, unfiltered side.
“No, not really. I mean, I’m evil too. If anything, I find you even hotter now that I know you’re not a goody-goody.”
Blinking hard, your eyebrows shoot into the air. There is no way he just said that. Your mind is uncontrollably reeling at his words, but only for a brief moment. Before you can read too deeply into it, your attention is quickly snapped back to the black magic still swirling around him, growing by the second. Ah, a ploy to distract me. Maybe he is more clever than he lets on.
“Listen, Morgie,” you snarl threateningly. “That mirror is mine.”
“Wait, you’re here for the Mirror too?” he asks, with far too light a tone for a situation such as this.
“Th-that was obvious the whole time!” you exclaim, unbelievably irritated. “What did you think I was here for?”
“I dunno, a book or something.” He shrugs casually, before narrowing his eyes. “Wait, what do you want the Mirror for?”
“That’s none of your business,” you snap back, fingers thrumming with the rush of energy as you summon your own magic. Letting your curiosity get the better of you yet again, you add, “Why do you want it?”
“I’m a villain. I steal things for fun,” he replies, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “What does a goody-two-shoes hero want to do with a forbidden artifact?”
Barely listening to his words, you study him carefully, needing to know the extent of his powers if you’re going to win the inevitable fight that you can sense coming. You see how his ever-growing dark magic stalls temporarily as he talks, probably from getting distracted while speaking. That’s it. Deciding to buy yourself some time, you use this little weakness to your advantage.
“I want the Mirror because I want to use it.” Even though you’re planning on entertaining his pointless questions, you definitely aren’t going to give him information for free.
“Use it? To get an answer?” His magic hesitates again.
“No, to look at myself.” You see the way his eyebrows furrow in confusion, and you’re pretty sure you’re about to implode. “Of course to get an answer, you dumbass! Unlike you, I don’t go risking my life ‘for fun.’”
“What are you even going to use as an offering? You have to give it something, you know.”
You sigh, reaching underneath your shirt to pull out a small silver locket, its chain blackened from the trials of time. Dangling it from your fingers, you show it to Morgie.
“A locket?” he asks incredulously. “The offering's supposed to be something really special or precious.”
“It is really precious,” you hiss, tucking it back into your shirt. “It’s the most precious thing I own. If anything’s going to make the Mirror work, it’s this.”
“Well, you’re not going to get the Mirror anyways. It’s mine.” He widens his stance again, his magic continuing to grow around him. No, I need a little more time, you think, masking your growing panic with an insouciant eye roll.
“Why?” you question. “You’re not even going to use it.”
“I still need it.”
“But why?”
“I won’t tell you if you won’t tell me!” he exclaims. Despite his little outburst, you can tell there’s something he’s hiding. After all, you are a master of concealing the truth yourself. “Plus, you know that everyone who's ever used the mirror has gone crazy, right? You’re literally sentencing yourself to a life of madness.”
You give him an unamused look. “I’m the top of our year. Obviously I know everything there is to know about the Mirror of Ytirev.”
He gazes at you in a way you can’t decipher, but it’s softer, more sympathetic than his former glare. You notice that his snake eyes have disappeared as well, despite the magical energy still surrounding him. “Then why are you still doing this, despite the risks?”
You falter, for just a second, letting a sliver of emotion slip through. But as quickly as it happened, you patch it back up, returning to your cold, glowering face. “It’s a price I’m willing to pay.”
You expect him to drop it after that, but he continues to press you. “You’re prepared to give up your morals? Your status as a hero? You’re willing to lose all your integrity for one answer?”
God, he talks too much. With a sniff, you throw your hands out in front of you, releasing a bright flash of crackling electricity that had been building up as you cry out, “I don’t care how evil I have to become, I will find the truth, one way or another!”
The lightning shoots forward without warning, hot as an inferno, piercing straight through his chest and flinging him backwards into a shelf like a ragdoll. He falls down to his knees, and for a split second, you wonder if he’s going to get up again. Clutching his chest, he wheezes yet still manages to stand up, summoning wispy black tendrils that shoot at you like arrows.
You tuck and roll, dodging them, whilst building up more crackling lightning between your fingers. The last tendril hits far too close to you for comfort, burning a hole in your robe. That would have been my flesh, had it hit me, you realize in sudden horror.
Seeing as how your opponent is summoning even more dark magic to hit you with, now engulfing his entire body, you break into a sprint. Black spears collide with the shelves behind you one after another, barely missing you, as you run past glass cases, each containing a different artifact that glistens in the silver moonlight.
Something across the arena seizes your attention, and a plan begins to piece itself together in your head. You continue your dash towards the shelves behind Morgie. Once you reach a section with books instead of random magical objects, you slow your pace. Amidst Morgie's unrelenting attacks, you create a golden shield of electricity that sparks and crackles, almost alive, and which reaches as tall as you. You jog past the shelves, head craned as you scan the book titles as quickly as possible.
Morgie persists in launching balls of dark magic directly at you, smashing into your shield. Your panic rises as cracks begin to form, at first only small fissures, but growing larger and larger with each sphere that pummels your way.
You run parallel to the shelf, which boxes in the rest of the area in a rectangular shape, eyes frantically darting over words with barely enough time for your brain to comprehend them.
Glancing up as a whorl of blackness blasts the books resting directly in front of you, you duck down, yet continue to run. That’s when you see a thick tome, larger than the others and bearing a dark red cover, jutting out from a shelf a few meters in front of you. With your magical shield barely staying intact, you lunge towards it, snatching the book as you fall towards the ground and somersault behind a desk-sized wooden stand to hide. On top of it stands a glass display case, with faint candlelight illuminating the rustic, yet enchanted, metal shield contained inside it.
You crouch down, flipping through the pages of the book desperately, trying to find the incantation you know has to be in there. One time, on one of your random visits to the library—the normal one, not this hell of the most cursed items in the land—you had picked up a text that talked about the history of spellcasting. Detailed inside was a description of one of the first books of curses ever written, which had been banned from production shortly after its release due to the nature of its contents. There had been a small sketch next to the explanation, which just so happens to match the tome now weighing in your hands.
Morgie’s blasts of magic don’t stop, pounding the wooden stand and the glass case alike. You think he yells something, but you can’t tell; you’re too focused on squinting at the fine print on the page, eyes wildly scanning the names of the spells. The desk quakes with every attack, causing your hands to tremble as you rifle through the pages hastily, pointer finger trailing down the lists of incantations.
Finally, your eyes lock onto the one you want. “Obiectum impedit semitam,” you recite, gaze darting between the page and the glass case above you. It quivers vigorously, yet remains unscathed due to its magic-bulletproof nature.
“Evanescet a lumine irae meae!” As soon as the last syllable leaves your tongue, the glass case dissipates into thin air. Your hand darts up, clutching the shield and shoving it in front of you. Just in time, as the wooden stand protecting you explodes from the force of Morgie’s dark magic, blasting into a shower of mere splinters that rain down around you. The shockwave causes you to recoil, even as the shield absorbs the brunt of the impact.
Quickly regaining your bearings, you crouch even lower behind the metal. Thumbing through the book pages briskly, your eyes skim the ink, trying to find the first spell that can help you now.
“Inimicus meus, caveto tibi,” you mutter the incantation rapidly, trying your best not to stumble over the archaic words—who knows what sort of havoc that would make. “Transi me et in carcere gelido capieris.”
You peek your head over the shield as you say the last line, locking in on your target. He stands there, panting, worn from his latest, potent attack. Morgie barely has enough time to widen his eyes as the final word escapes your mouth, instantly creating ice stalagmites that burst forth from the ground, crisscrossing as they trap him in a prison of ice. They tower high all around while entrapping him in a circle, frost coating their sleek outsides, which narrow into dangerously sharp tips.
The air turns frigid, and you can see flurries of movement as Morgie thrashes within his glacial cell. Already, he’s trying to break out. Through the cracks between the icicles, you can see a swirling vortex of black magic fighting the freezingly cold charm. Even though it is a strong spell, you know it won’t last for long. Especially not with the dark energy that is slowly, yet surely, thawing out the ice.
Springing up again, you bolt to the shelves on the other side, jumping over small puddles forming on the floor. The book is still open in your hands as you wildly tear through one page after another, the minuscule words shaking and blurring together as you run. Honestly, what kind of asshole decides to print in such a tiny font? you internally rage. Flipping through the large sheets of paper filled with small text reminds you of reading a dictionary. In a way, the spellbook is a dictionary of sorts, with the way every curse is listed alphabetically, in a neat and orderly manner—much unlike your current frenzied state, with how your heart pounds against your chest as if trying to break free, and the adrenaline coursing through your veins cuts off any semblance of a coherent thought forming in your brain.
Twisting sharply to your right, you dart towards the shelf that the Mirror stands on. You stare up at it as you continue to run, eyes practically sending a silent plea while it sits on its throne undisturbed, watching the scenes before it unfold as if viewing a play from the highest seat in the opera house; somehow mildly amused, yet still condescendingly blasé at the same time.
Flipping to the L section of the spellbook, you scan the page for a spell that can help you reach it at last. Finally finish the last stretch of your journey.
The icicle prison behind you makes a dreadfully loud crack. Your heart only races even faster with a jolt, your breathing coming out only in sharp, erratic gulps that make you feel light-headed, as if you’re not getting enough oxygen no matter how much you gasp for air.
As you scan the page, this time with a renewed fervor that has your eyes darting across the words, too panicked to even finish a sentence before leaping to the next, you make a very interesting revelation indeed. For whatever reason, the genius who wrote this book decided not to add levitation to the list of spells, but instead included lignum pullelare, which roughly translates to “sprouting a tree”.
Another thunderous boom sounds again from the constantly fracturing icicles, a violent reminder of the ticking clock. You decide that this spell, no matter how absurd, is the best shot you have. Inhaling another sharp breath that burns your lungs, you cry, “Surge, virens gigas, de terra immunda,” your eyes glued to the page. “Ascendunt ad lunam et super caelos!”
A branch smashes into your chest, knocking the wind out of you—you really need to get used to how quickly these spells take effect—lifting you up as a colossal tree ascends from the ground, growing much more rapidly than even a beanstalk, much less a normal tree. The metal shield slips out of your grasp from the impact, your fingers desperately flailing in its direction futile as it falls and hits the floor with a dull thud.
Your get snapped back to the present from the momentary distraction as your body starts slipping off the branch, with how it's quickly growing into a thick, strong limb with no end in sight. You slide off the ever-stretching wood, scratches cutting into your arms as you frantically try to wrap them around the branch, until only your hands are still hanging on. Using the book, which remains gripped firmly in one hand, you fling it open and cling to each cover. The book's pages spread wide around the wood as you hold on for dear life.
You continue shooting upwards along with the tree, the bookcase racing past you, when a realization hits you like a strike of lightning. This tree won’t stop growing anytime soon, and when it does, you’ll be too high up—if you're still alive, that is.
Glancing above you, you spot the Mirror and the shelf it sits on getting closer, and getting closer fast. Making up your mind, or rather, making a brash decision fueled by your skyrocketing panic, you wait until the shelf you need to reach comes into view. Then, you jump off.
Flinging yourself towards the bookcase, you manage to latch on to a shelf, fingers wrapping around the ledge while your feet find purchase on another ridge a few feet below. The book remains clutched in one hand, your iron grip refusing to let it go. Realizing you can't do anything while holding it, you risk letting go with one hand. Gripping onto the shelf with your other hand, you tuck the book under your chin, angling your head down as you struggle to hold it between your neck and body.
You peer up at your grasp on the shelf, the unforgiving ridges digging into your skin, carving painful lines into your fingers. Your feet barely remain balanced, the ledge not jutting out as far as you’d like it to. Turning your heels in to stay on the little shelf space there is in front of the books, you wince as the ridges between your arms and legs bite into your body. The sweat coating your palms causes your grip to start slipping off, your eyes wide in sheer terror as you let go for a brief second, thrusting your hands further back and hooking onto the edge again.
Glimpsing back down, you see the Mirror resting in its glass cage a few shelves below you, the strange white mist slithering underneath the glass and pouring out over the bookcase like a waterfall. With your chin still uncomfortably positioned as to not lose the book, you release on hand and leg from the shelf, leaving you hanging in between life and death itself.
You move your free hand down one ledge below, then the corresponding foot, haltingly scaling your way down the bookcase. Each time precariously letting go of your grip or footing to blindly feel below yourself for another ledge to stay on. After a few iterations, your feet finally stand on the same shelf as the Mirror, right next to the glass case.
Another piercing boom echoes behind you, making you squeeze your eyes shut as you flinch against the bookcase, quivering breaths sending your heartbeat shooting through the roof. Your eyes dart down to the book you squeeze with your neck, then to where your hands are barely clinging on to the shelf. There’s no chance of using the book to make the glass disappear again. Cursing yourself for not memorizing the incantation earlier, your mind swarms with thoughts, each one so loud they drown out each other.
An idea forms in your head—or rather, slams itself into the sides of your brain like a wave crashing in a bottle while it screams for attention—as you warily lift one foot on top of the heel of the other shoe, maneuvering it off your foot.
Now with only a sock left, you press your toes against the glass container. Inhaling a sharp breath, causing your lungs to ache as they scream for more, you muster enough energy to summon a bolt of lightning, focusing all your attention on passing electrical current through your body and to your foot.
The hotness of the electricity heats up the glass, melting it until there’s a decent-sized hole the size of your foot there. Shuffling to the side and raising your shoeless foot to the ledge above, you draw back your other leg and smash it into the glass, causing the compromised structure to shatter everywhere.
Climbing down the bookcase farther, you come face-to-face with the Mirror of Yteriv at last. It looks exactly like it was depicted in that textbook, sporting an elegant silver frame and seemingly shattered surface, with the two rubies staring at you like glowing eyes.
A loud explosion rings behind you, resounding throughout the entire library. You snatch the Mirror with one hand, turning your head to the side as far as you can without letting the book slip, just in time to see Morgie demolish the ice prison as he breaks free.
It's clear that since now he's no longer bound by frozen spikes of ice, you’re his next target. Taking in an abrupt gasp of air—the only preparation you have—you let go of the shelf.
You plummet towards the ground for only a second before creating small thunderbolts beneath each of your feet, suspending you in midair. Already, you can see Morgie charging up another attack, aiming it straight at you. Book in one hand, Mirror in the other, you take off into a run through the air. Small platforms of electricity form beneath your feet with every step, dissipating again as soon as your foot lifts.
Balls of dark magic hurl towards you, and you already know you have no chance of winning this fight—not like this. But you don’t need to win. Glancing down at the Mirror clutched in your palm as you jump off a thunderbolt, right as it gets blasted by a black orb, you realize that you’ve already completed your mission. Now, all that’s left is to get out of here.
Your mind scrambles for a way out that doesn’t involve getting blasted into smithereens, eyes still fixed on the Mirror as you continue to dash around in midair. Watching the wispy tendrils of white smoke pour out of the artifact, a previous memory from something you read in a book hits you like a flash.
As the Mirror of Ytirev connects to its wielder’s soul, so do its properties, the book had said. The mist emitted by the Mirror fluctuates with the wielder’s emotions; the more powerfully one feels their emotions, negative ones in particular, the more smoke it produces.
A room filled with smoke? You can’t think of a more perfect cover to help you escape.
Grip tightening even further around the Mirror as you leap to another lightning platform, dodging a new attack, you rack your brain for every negative emotion you have—which turns out to be a lot. The adrenaline pumping through your veins as your life flashes before your very eyes from every near-death experience. The way your heart shatters a little more every time your father overlooks your accomplishments, not paying any mind to how hard you strive to please him. Just to get a single smile, a pat on the back, a meager look of pride in your direction. One simple “That’s my daughter!” sent your way.
The anger deep inside you starts to bubble, pure rage sizzling and growing hotter every second you spend lost in your emotions. A fury that is always there, making every breath a little shorter, every happy moment a little duller. A dormant feeling that is usually left undisturbed, except for when it's triggered. Then it becomes a fire that burns hotter than any flame in the depths of hell.
The emotions and thoughts and memories that you keep suppressed in a corner of your heart all coming flooding out, like a dam finally bursting free. How could everyone strand you like that? Leave you all alone to suffer through your grief, while always expecting you to be kind and cheerful. They know what happened, and they have to know how badly it hurts. Yet not a single one cares. Not your dad, not your teachers, not your friends. No one in the entire world ever so much as offered a shoulder for you to cry on or gave you a comforting smile. Not one “I’m here for you” or “It’s all right, take your time.” No, all they did was raise their expectations, setting the bar so high until you’re barely clinging to it, trying to pull yourself up despite your weary arms. Lifting it to such heights that losing your grip and falling would mean certain death.
You think of the snarling, twisted animal that resides deep inside you, embedded into your very being, clawing at the aching hole in your heart left by the absence of your mother. Finally letting it break free after being caged for so long, you feel, oh-so agonizingly, how it scratches its way up your throat and escapes you in a wretched sob.
Why did she leave me? How could she leave me? I’m her daughter, for fuck’s sake. Who can abandon their child like that? Does she not care about me?
Did she ever even love me?
Painful thoughts consume your head as a few stray tears run down your cheek. You grit your teeth, sucking in shaky gasps of breaths. Smothered by your anguish, submerged in emotion.
Yet, despite all this, it works. Remembering the entire point of your self-inflicted despair, your head snaps down to the Mirror. Although your legs burn and throb from all the incessant running, you can’t stop. At least not yet.
Thick fog exudes from the Mirror, rapidly engulfing the whole of the arena. Within a few moments, everything is covered in the dense whiteness, so heavy you can barely see your hand, even if you hold it directly in front of your face.
Morgie disappears in the fog as well, to the point where you can no longer see nor hear him. Assuming that he’s no longer a threat for now—if you can’t see him, he can’t see you, and if he can’t see you, he can’t attack you—you summon a staircase of thunderbolts and walk down it until you safely step onto solid ground.
Your legs practically give way at the first touch of hard floor, the urge to collapse and lie on the ground excruciatingly strong. Mustering up the last of your strength and willpower, you force your feet to step one after another, desperately trying to distract yourself from the fire burning in your muscles at even the strain of supporting your own weight.
Almost done. Almost.
Practically rendered blind by the all-encompassing mist, you keep one hand outstretched, making sure you won’t collide with anything—especially Morgie. Pocketing the Mirror, you continue through the fog. You had made sure to note your direction in relation to the exit before everything became completely invisible as to help you easily find your way out without getting lost. But after a few minutes in the overwhelming whiteness, you start to doubt yourself.
What’s even worse is that there’s no sign of Morgie. You’re not foolish enough to expect him to pop up right in front of you, but you don’t hear him making any sounds either. No footsteps, no breathing, nothing. Your strides are far more muffled as you take your other shoe off too, annoyed at the limping effect the difference in heights causes. But nothing from him.
Your mind starts wandering to what happened to him, refusing to admit that the smallest part of you feels the tiniest bit concerned. Does he need help? Is he still alive? Your intentions were to steal the Mirror and disarm him, not kill him. You’re not evil enough for that.
Not yet, anyway.
After stumbling through the murky fog for a bit longer, you start to notice that now, you can see your hand extended in front of you. The fog is thinning, you think, which means I must be nearing the edge of this area and heading towards the bookcases.
A little bit further, and the fog disperses to all but a thin mist. The bookshelves in front of you come into view, the rows and rows of them finally visible as they expand into the distance. Follow those, and you’ll find the door you came in through.
So, so close…
You take a few more steps, the heavy spellbook still in hand as you reach into your pocket with an unusual, yet profound, sense of paranoia, ensuring the Mirror is still there. Out of nowhere, you feel a strange sort of chill cover your feet. You chalk it up to your lack of shoes, but, not being able to resist the urge, you glance down.
That’s when you see strange feathery tendrils of black smoke on the floor, in stark contrast to the thin mist that hangs in the air. They slither and wrap around your feet as they move, condensing together in front of you and rising up a meter off the ground in the shape of a hissing black cobra.
The cobra flares out its hood whilst flicking its tongue at you, swaying side to side as it stretches to its full height. You stumble backwards, hesitating for only a second too long before it dawns on you where the snake came from.
Behind you, a brooding voice sounds. “Going somewhere?” Morgie asks.
You spin around sharply, dismay and a special breed of horror painted on your face as you turn to face him. “I don’t care what you do, the Mirror is mine,” you growl, shooting him a lethal glare that truly could kill.
“I don’t think so.” He gathers more black magic around his palm, creating an orb that whirls around like a dark, spherical tornado. You both stare into each other’s eyes for a moment, a fracture in time, trying to decide your next move—when he suddenly throws his hand forward.
You flinch away, yanking the book in front of your face as a shield. After a second, when you don’t feel anything, you open your eyes, turning back in his direction in confusion.
And that’s when you see that you weren't the target of his attack.
The book in front of you was.
The dark magic gnaws at it from the back cover, where it hit on impact, eating away at the pages. “No!” you scream, desperately flipping through the paper as the magic destroys it. Your own magic may be quite strong, but since you're barely allowed to practice it, it’s nowhere near the son of Morgana’s abilities or prowess. This book was your only chance at defeating him.
Frantically rifling through the pages, a look of pure horror on your face, you try to scan the spells for something to save you. Teleportation is soon gone, as well as fireball. As soon as you catch a glimpse of a spell name that could be helpful, the incantation is instantly obliterated.
Panic building faster than even the speed of the dark magic, you flip to the front of the book, trying to find a spell at the beginning of the alphabet so you have enough time to actually read the incantation.
But apple is of no use, and neither is bridge. Morgie stands there, gaze transfixed on your struggling form, wickedly smiling with an amused raise of his eyebrows. Guess he really is a villain after all.
The black energy eroding the book spreads across both covers, demolishing the tome as you hold it in your feverishly trembling hands. Your eyes race across the letters, desperate to find one that could even have a chance at saving you.
Dragon, no.
Claws, not that.
Chasm, not that either.
None of these will help me! your internal voice screeches, the book dissipating as you hold it. Then, your eyes snag along a word.
Chains. The perfect spell.
“Ut qui inritat, catenas sentiat iras,” you wildly spit out, heart racing, tongue unable to move fast enough. Your eyes dart frenziedly ahead of your mouth, running on sheer panic as you try to memorize the words in case the book does disappear. “Pati in compedibus, ut solvas pretium peccatorum tuorum,” you continue to cry out.
As the last fibers of the pages evaporate in black fumes, you thrust a hand in Morgie’s direction, yelling the last few words. “Eris enim sine fuga ligatus!”
Nothing.
Then, boom.
The residual magic from the demolished book, no longer contained in a physical form, explodes, the force sending you flying backwards. You soar for a couple feet before colliding with a shelf behind you, your head slamming against a sharp edge.
You crumple to the floor, body bruised, beaten, and bloody. The world spins, your head throbs, and you feel so generally shitty that you want to crawl out of your body and leave this physical hindrance behind.
Your head feels too heavy to lift up, and so it falls forward, swaying back and forth. A warm sensation on the back of your skull draws your senses back to the present, and you lift one weary hand to the spot. Bringing it back down in front of your face, you see a whole lot of red smothered on it, just as more trickles down onto the base of your head and neck.
Groaning, you lift your face to scan your surroundings as the dust settles yet again. The fog is now almost completely gone, allowing you to see rather clearly. Sight still blurry, you barely make out the figure a few meters in front of you as heavy chains whip up from the floor, wrapping around his arms.
More spring up around his legs, dragging him down and causing his knees to buckle. He fights against the metal, but they only tighten as even more encircle his torso, tethering him to the ground. He leans forwards, now kneeling before you, arms spread out and chained to the floor on either side.
In front of him, halfway between you two, lies the Mirror of Yteriv, face-up on the floor.
Scrambling to get up, you slowly manage to stand, leaning your weight on the bookcase behind you. The ground sways underneath your feet, but you don’t collapse. One shaky step after another, you make your way over to the mirror.
You practically crumple to the floor as you lean down to snatch it up, the sounds of chains rattling against each other echoing through your head as their prisoner resists his bonds.
You straighten again, running your fingers over every millimeter of the Mirror’s surface to ensure that the cracks reflected on it are only part of its usual appearance and not actual damage caused during the explosion. Once you're sure of its safety, you look down at the figure shackled in front of you.
Morgie looks up at you, hair disheveled and face bruised, a few drops of blood spattered on his cheek. His eyes are a storm of anguish and a wounded kind of sorrow, his jaw clenched tight. You’d like to think that he isn’t peering up at you, body tied and bound, with resentment etched into his features, but you know you’d be lying to yourself.
He gives another violent tug against the chains, but to no avail. Neither of you speak a word, remaining in complete silence, yet somehow saying a thousand things through your eyes. You stare down at him, at the way he can barely lift his head due to his restraints, the agony swirling in his eyes tugging at your heartstrings in ways that make you ache through your core.
But you’ve already come this far. You can’t turn back now.
The deafening silence remains as you raise the Mirror up in front of yourself, the white mist wrapping around you as if beckoning you closer. The red eyes glow even brighter, their judgment intensifying as your reflection begins to appear in the glass. The cracks on the surface slowly fade away as you come into view, until finally revealing a completely smooth and unmarred image as you gaze into your own eyes.
Except they aren’t yours.
Your reflection in the mirror is not of yourself, but of a younger version of you. She smiles effulgently, a pure, innocent sparkle of wonder in her eyes. A look of untainted bliss painted on her face as she beams.
A look you haven’t seen in your own reflection for a long time.
“Mommy?” her young, high-pitched voice calls out. “Mommy? Moooommy? Where are you?”
A sob gets caught in your throat as you gasp, tears framing your vision. As if the memory finally gets uncovered in your mind, after being hidden away all these years from your brain deeming it too painful, you realize when this is—or rather, what this is.
“Mommy?” she calls again, her smile faltering as her little brow furrows in confusion, her face scrunching ever so slightly. “Mommy?” She turns her head to the side, looking at something out of view before asking, “Daddy, where’s Mommy?”
Your chest heaves as a sharp cry escapes you, the pain taking a physical form in the tears streaking your cheeks, your face contorting as you weep. In the background, a man’s faint, shaky sobs sound.
The mirror slips from your fingers, landing on the ground with an echoing thud. You whimper, uncontrollably trembling breaths causing your chest to jolt back and forth. You don’t move, can’t move, empty hand still suspended in midair.
You feel numb, yet like you're experiencing every emotion all at once. Your brain can’t wrap around this, around any of this, can’t comprehend your own thoughts. Can’t process what you feel. You’ve shoved your emotion down for so long, that now that they’re no longer bottled up, you don’t know how to deal with them.
“I’m sorry.” The voice cuts through the thick silence, snapping you out of the raging war inside your head.
You glance over at Morgie, still wrapped in chains. His eyes no longer hold the same animosity and misery, but instead a soft sort of sympathy, an underlying look of understanding as he peers up at you, head slightly raised.
“I don’t want your pity,” you sniff indignantly.
“I’m not pitying you.”
You look down at him, your chest heaving, eyes bloodshot. Taking shaky gasps of breath through your mouth, your body quivers as you wait for him to continue.
“I didn’t know about your mom, and you’re totally justified for wanting to know what happened to her,” Morgie continues. “You can take that Mirror and walk out of here if you want.”
You keep on staring at him, not saying anything, frozen with anticipation as he carries on. “But are you really going to risk your future for knowledge of the past?”
You gulp before responding, voice hoarse and eyes half-lidded, voice cold and numb. “Would you still hesitate to take that risk, even when it means it could make your future finally be one worth living?”
“Your future is already one worth living,” Morgie replies. “You may not see it, but you’re talented, and smart, and pretty, and you’re a good person. You have a bright future ahead of you.” He shakes his head, eyes still boring into you. “Don’t ruin it like this. Blinded by your pain.”
Sniffling, you inhale a shuddering breath. “And how do you know my pain is blinding me, and not making me see clearer? Clearer than I have in my entire life. Clearer than she did.” You jut your chin towards the mirror lying on the floor.
“I don’t. But what I do know, from seeing my own mother, is that pain like this gets you nowhere. Letting the people who were supposed to love you instead turn you bitter and cynical never fixes things. You may think that becoming evil is the solution, but it’s not. It’s not worth it. You’re not worth it.”
You stare at him intensely, a raw kind of pain displayed on your face, one that no one has ever seen before. A thousand emotions flicker through your eyes, your lips twisting into a whimpering attempt at a smile as you cry again, the sob wracking through your body. “You really think so?”
“I know so.”
Hope flashes in your eyes, reflected in his. Your gaze softens, looking at him as if he’s the beacon of light at the end of the tunnel. A small grin breaks his steady demeanor, looking at you with optimism shining through the glimmer in his eyes.
You reach down, picking up the Mirror again. You stare at it, although not directly at your reflection this time. He peers up at you, still shackled to the floor, eyes wide with anticipation.
You slip the Mirror into the pocket of your cloak once again before turning around, your back to him. Twisting your head to the side so he hears you, you say, “The chains will disappear in an hour.”
Turning your head back, you walk away and leave him behind, black cape flickering in the dark night.
Unclasping the back, you slip off the locket, placing it in front of you. The rusty metal is reflected in the mirror in front of it, along with the tears that splatter on its surface.
It had belonged to your mother, the only thing you had left of her. She had given it to you when you were a little kid, not too long before she left. It was old and weathered, the silver having tarnished over time. Still, you religiously wore it every single day, never taking it off as if it's a part of your body. And sometimes, if you stare at it hard enough, you can almost trick yourself into believing she's still there.
Safely back in your dorm, all alone, you had set the Mirror down, flipping to the notebook page where you had transcribed the incantations for the ritual, without a second thought.
Now, sitting on the ground, the Mirror leaning against a leg of your desk with your locket as an offering in front of it, you start to hesitate. Your face twists in pure agony, features scrunched up, lips quivering uncontrollably as a waterfall of tears splatter onto your hands and lap.
It’s too late to turn back now.
Taking another shaky breath, you extend your hands forward to the Mirror, placing one thumb on each red gemstone embedded in the intricate silver design. The jewels watch you, scorning your every action. Just like everyone else.
Your eyes flutter closed, letting out the steadiest exhale you’ve had all night. “Speculum, speculum, in conspectu oculorum meorum,” you whisper, feeling the way the rubies press into the flesh of your thumbs. Already, the Mirror starts discharging more fog, enveloping you as it grows denser with each syllable. “Accipe donum meum et veritas libera me.”
You open your eyes as the last words leave your tongue, staring straight into the eyes of your own reflection.
The red gems glow radiantly, emitting a bright light that nearly blinds you. You squint, yet still unrelentingly stare into your eyes—or rather, your younger self's eyes. The fog swirls around you, swallowing you whole. You can’t see anything anymore, can’t even tell where you are. You feel as though your soul, your life’s very essence, gets sucked out of your body and into the Mirror.
You have the sensation of being shoved forward, but you don’t fall. In fact, you don't have a body anymore, no physical vessel to hold you. You try to look down, but you're greeted by the absence of your legs, sheer nothingness filling the space beneath you. You can’t really move around either, not in the way you’re used to. All you can do is simply float, your existence diminished to an untethered life force, with some semblance of what you once were.
Looking around, everything around you is white like before, but not in the suffocating way the fog was. Instead, you stand in a wide expanse of whiteness, a vast field of empty space. It stretches on forever, with no end in sight. It’s as if you’re stuck in a blank canvas, waiting for a painter to bring you to life.
The sound of wind whistles all around you, but not so much as a breeze actually comes. In fact, everything is completely unmoving. Despite the stifling stillness, you remain listening to the sound of the wind. If you strain hard enough, you can hear something almost like faint whispers filling your senses.
You look around again, ignoring the eerie voices. According to all the texts you read, after the Mirror accepts the wielder’s offering, they can ask for their answer. You’re not quite sure if this field of emptiness means your offering’s been accepted, but seeing as how you don’t feel insane yet, you think it’s safe to presume so. Still, your brain can’t help but point out that crazy people probably don’t feel like they’re crazy either.
Shaking off your doubts, you decide to continue with the process. After all, it is the only shot you have. You had memorized all the incantations for this particular spell earlier, repeating them over and over again until every word was engraved into your mind.
“Scire volo verum,” you recite. “I wish to know a truth.” Nothing happens.
You take a deep breath. “I wish to know why my mom left.”
The wind around you grows louder, howling even in the still air. The whispers increase in volume, once seemingly non-threatening and benign, now forming a cacophony of overlapping, chaotic voices. They grow distorted and grating, pushing in from every side, wrapping around you and slithering into your brain. You can’t block them out, no matter how hard you try; can’t swat them away, can’t make them leave, leaving you trying to tear them out of your head, despite not having hands anymore.
Suddenly, the white vastness turns a dark gray, and you start getting pulled downward towards something, like moving towards the center of a black hole. The whispers grow claws and fangs, clawing and scratching at your chest as they drag you down, making it hard for you to breathe.
You try to fight back, but the voices now in your head keep pulling you down. They’ve taken over you, consuming you whole, and it’s impossible not to succumb to their will.
As they continue to drag you down into the abyss, you turn around—or rather, focus on the other side of your vague form of spiritual energy—and notice a tiny black dot very far down, but steadily growing bigger as you move towards it.
The whispers are screaming now, cries of agony of those who came before you, encompassing you whole and forcing you to the depths of this dark chasm.
And that’s when it hits you.
The others who used the Mirror did all end up getting the truths they sought.
And the truth was what drove them to madness.
You panic, trying to shake off the invisible hands of the whisperers, but they only tighten their hold around you. No matter how hard you fight them, they don’t relent in their endeavor of pulling you towards damnation.
“Are you really going to risk your future for knowledge of the past?” Morgie’s words echo in your head out of nowhere, haunting you with regret. You absolutely despise admitting it, but fuck, he was right.
Your last conversation with him replays in your mind, reminding you of your foolishness and idiocy. You had been so focused on getting what you wanted that you were indeed blinded to the truth that had been right in front of you this whole time.
“Your future is one worth living.”
His voice swirls around in your brain, drawing your attention away a little from the screaming voices in your head.
“You’re talented, and smart, and pretty, and you’re a good person.”
You realize these are probably the last words you’ll ever hear.
“You have a bright future ahead of you.”
You feel like crying again, the despair that’s taken root in you fighting to escape. Still, you don’t have an actual body in this dreamscape, so crying is impossible.
“It’s not worth it. You’re not worth it.”
You look back up the other direction and away from the black dot, resigned to your fate as you get dragged down into the chasm, deeper, deeper, deeper. At first, you think you’re imagining it; a mirage created by your mind to distract you from your pain. But as the descent continues, you begin to realize that it may not be an illusion after all.
In front of you, from the direction you came, a faint golden thread, seemingly made of pure light, stretches from your form of consciousness and ascends, up, up, up, all the way to the never-ending sky. With each of Morgie’s words you repeat in your head, the string of light grows stronger, brighter.
“You’re talented.”
The thread becomes thicker and more luminous, and you begin to realize that your descent has slowed down as well.
“And smart.”
The thread grows again, and you slow down a little more.
“And pretty.”
Your eyes follow the string upwards, and now, you see there’s a faint patch of white amidst the murky gray surrounding you.
“You’re a good person.”
The thread, still shooting out straight from your form, gleams with a shimmering golden light now. You notice that you’re no longer getting dragged downwards, but instead up, towards the whiteness. The screaming voices aren’t as insufferably loud anymore, either.
“You have a bright future ahead of you.”
You keep ascending, getting drawn faster and faster up. Morgie’s words serve as your lifeline, saving you from insanity.
“You’re not worth it.”
Now, you see that the white patch is actually an opening, an escape from this hell. The thread leads to it, its blinding brightness concealing whatever lies beyond.
“I know so.”
The last of his words give you the final push you need, sending you straight into the white light.
Your head snaps up with a sharp, terrified exhale. You look down, taking a moment to register that you’re back in your room. The locket dangles from one of your hands, the Mirror clutched in the other.
Fresh tears replacing the dried ones on your cheeks as you let out a sob of excruciating heartache, a sound of pure agony. The kind that no one should have to go through.
You look down at the cracked surface of the Mirror—a feeling of raw, unbridled anger set in the way you clench your jaw, and the way your face contorts with your cries—staring straight at the evil red eyes still gleaming at you.
With a swift motion, you lift your hand above your head, still grasping tight. Mustering together all your might, you hurl the Mirror towards the ground, watching as it shatters into a sea of glittering pieces.
“You’re late.”
You lean against the rough brick wall of an empty corridor, arms crossed, your figure partially obscured in shadows.
“And I’m surprised you’re still here,” Morgie quips, walking towards you. “Why’d you even want to talk with me? Especially through leaving that threatening note next to my nightstand for me to find when I woke up.”
He stops in front of you, leaving you to glower at him. Suddenly, with no warning, you lunge towards him, seizing the collar of his shirt and pushing him against the wall, your other hand summoning a rod of crackling lightning.
His eyes widen with a startled gaze, but he doesn’t look quite as fearful as you want him to be. “Now, listen here.” You press the tip of the lightning bolt against his neck. “If you say a word of what happened last night to anyone—especially my father—I will kill you.”
Although you try to sound as menacing as possible, Morgie is unfazed. An amused smirk spreads across his face as he replies, “Alright, relax. I wasn’t planning on telling anyone anyways.”
His eyes trail down from your gaze to the locket dangling from your neck. He reaches out a hand, brushing his thumb along the tarnished metal as he softly says, “You didn’t go through with it, huh?”
You pull away, frustrated at his compassionate tone. “No. I decided…it was too risky. After all, what’s the point of figuring out the past if I can’t ever use that information, right?”
A small smile spreads across Morgie’s face, that sympathetic, delicate look in his eyes again. Your irritation rising at this, you add, with a growl, “Although I will find a way to get my answer. I don’t care how bad I have to become, if you, or my father, or anyone stands in my way, you’ll truly see how evil I can be!”
Morgie keeps his unfettered appearance up. God, he’s so annoying! you mentally scream in frustration.
“Why are you so fixed on this?” he asks, tilting his head sideways and furrowing his brow as if trying to look past your cold, vengeful, rancorous mask and figure out the scarred little girl buried underneath.
You roll your eyes instead of answering. Never one to express emotions, the thought of opening up now about your years of pain feels terrifyingly vulnerable. It’s so much easier to just build walls around your heart and shut everyone out.
“Tell me this, and I promise I won’t tell a word of what happened last night to anyone,” Morgie bargains.
You narrow your eyes. “You already said you wouldn’t tell anyone.”
“Well, now I’m having second thoughts.”
You raise your arm again to summon another bolt of electricity, and Morgie lifts his hands, palms facing forward, in a gesture of surrender. “Relax, I won’t say anything, fine. But I just want you to talk to me. Bottling up your emotions like this isn’t healthy. Last night should be a good example of that.”
You shoot another glare at him, but can’t deny the fact that he’s right. Still, you hate the idea of how exposed and weak you'd be if you actually told someone how you feel.
“I’m not going to leave you, you know.”
You peer up at him, eyes wide in shock, as he continues. “I’ll stay by your side. You don’t have to worry about me abandoning you.”
Gulping, you nod, averting his gaze. Instead, you choose to look down at your shoes, studying the laces as you speak. “I…when my mom left, it was so sudden. No goodbyes, nothing. It was like one day, she just vanished.”
Your voice cracks, and Morgie places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, unknowingly pulling you closer to him. You swallow, hesitating for a moment before continuing. “My dad didn’t even care. It was as if she never existed. And everyone else…they all knew what happened. But they paid no attention whatsoever. They expected me to act normal, be all nice and sweet as if nothing changed. It made me hate them, hate all of them.”
“Do you hate me?”
Morgie’s voice rings in the empty corridor, quiet yet speaking louder than a thousand shouts. You look up at him again, his image slightly blurred by the tears welling at the bottom of your eyes. You look up and you see the boy that stood by your side at your worst, who didn’t get scared or run away when you showed him your true colors.
The boy who said things no one’s ever said to you, whose words saved you from destroying yourself.
The boy who stands here, a concerned crinkle on his forehead as he awaits your answer. He doesn’t have to be here, listening to your problems. He doesn’t have to care.
But he does.
“No,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “No, I don’t hate you.”
In the suffocating sea of fake smiles and stifling pressures, Morgie is like a breath of fresh air. The first gulp of oxygen that you take as your head breaks free from the water.
“That’s a relief,” he responds, a trace of a smirk ghosting his features.
You give a small, bittersweet laugh. “Ever since my mom left and my dad stopped caring about me, I’ve never had anyone to talk to. No one seems to care about my emotions, or ask me how I’m doing. It’s as if I’m not a real person who has actual feelings.”
You’re on the verge of tears again, and Morgie must realize this, because he tries to lighten the mood by attempting—and failing—to inconspicuously wrap an arm around your shoulder as he says, “So, what I’m hearing from all this, is that you need a strong, reliable figure in your life to lean on, right? Like…a boyfriend or something?”
You duck under his arm, moving a good few feet away from him while fixing him with another glare. “Yeah no, I’m good.”
“Come on, that was smooth! You’ve got to admit it,” he whines, drawing out a small giggle from you.
It’s been a long time since you’ve laughed like this: a true, heartfelt laugh, not the fake one that you do to appease other people under the pressure of society's expectations. It feels nice, like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.
All because of him.
“I don’t know, maybe I'll consider it with some time, if you treat me well,” you joke as you turn your head away with faux indifference.
“Hey, a slim chance is better than no chance at all, right?” Morgie moves closer to you again, as if he can’t stand having so much space between the two of you. “I can see I’ve made some progress since last night, when you tried to kill me.”
“I wasn’t trying to kill you,” you shoot back, rolling your eyes at him.
“Oh yeah? Tell that to the bruises on my body.”
“It’s not my fault you’re so weak and sensitive,” you retort with a grin.
He nudges you playfully and you laugh again, shaking your head with an amused look. “Hey, I was wondering,” he asks, locking eyes with you, “what did you end up doing with the Mirror?”
You give a knowing grin, masking the undercurrent of what’s left unsaid. You vaguely respond, “It’s in a better place now.”
“If you say so,” Morgie replies, his smile returning to his face and lighting up his features once again. He continues to tease you, and you oblige him, keeping up the friendly banter as he walks you to class.
The Enchanted Lake glistens, reflecting the sun’s gentle rays with a bright shimmer. Deep down, under feet of clear blue water and various forms of aquatic life, in a far corner of the lake, lies a bag of glass shards. Next to it floats an ornate metal carving with a hollow center, reminiscent of something once set there. And at the top, two glowing red gemstones briefly flicker and die out, like watchful eyes finally closing.
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a/n: how did this get so long...if you're still here, and if you actually read that entire thing, thank you so so soo much! I'm sending you a virtual cookie and a hug (if you're comfortable with it ofc) because you're absolutely awesome! <3 hope you enjoyed reading!
do not plagiarize, translate, remake, or copy my works, including my writing and images, in any way.
(Summary: After discovering that Uliana found another way to cast a spell you you, Morgie decides to let an event play out but after while guilt causes Morgie to break the spell and with that comes a revelation.)
Once you finished dress shopping, you headed to the courtyard. Morgie was there waiting, he looked up at you and smiled "ah there you are Princess, i was beginning to think you wouldn't show."
A warmth came across your cheeks as you stepped closer to Morgie "of course i would come. Why wouldn't i?" You gave a warm smile, completely under the spell and morgie could see it.
he came in close and tucked some hair behind your ear "Now, i have a little surprise for you. I have a picnic all set up for just the two of us." Your eyes lit up with excitement "oh morgie, that's so romantic."
Uliana and the rest of her crew came out from their hiding spot "should we follow them?" James asked, Uliana turned him and shook her head "no, let morgie play prince charming for now. Y/N may just come in handy." They watched as Morgie and the reader walked into the distance, morge put his arm around you as the two of you walked.
Maleficent smirked as she watched the scene unfold "how sweet" she was silent for a moment before turning to hades "I hate sweet."
Uliana turned to her friends, "we might just be able to break two hearts with the one stone." A wicked smirk forming on her face, "come on lets go, we can have morgie meet us later."
Meanwhile after a few minutes you and Morgie arrived by the enchanted lake, Morgie had a picnic rug with a picnic basket and drinks. "Oh morgie!" You had a dreamy sigh "you shouldn't have"
The two walked over and sat down on the rug, Morgie eyes met yours, he had to snap you out of this.
Flashback:
The two of you laid on a blanket near the enchanted lake, the picnic food next to you both. "This is nice here, just the two of us." You spoke breaking the silence, Morgie nodded "yeah. Its nice to just get away from everything and everyone." He turned and looked at you, he noticed how your brows were furrowed "is everything okay darling?"
You fiddled with your sleeve "it's...nothing Morgie i don't want to bother you." At hearing this morgie put his fingers at the bottom of your chin and tiled your head to look at him.
"You can tell me anything, princess." morgie whispered as he put his hand in yours. Morgie gave you a warm smile, of course you could tell him. You sat up "I...sometimes I have these visions, there's one which i don't quite understand and it really bothers me."
Morgie sat there "go on, you can tell me" you blushed under Morgie's gaze "I see a vision, The sky turns red, thunder and lightning. Red figures fall from the sky, giant playing cards block exits. A voice shouts 'Off with her head!' A figure in a red dress stands in front of me" you take a deep breath "I don't know what it means and it worries me."
A small chuckle came from you "People think that I'm weird enough but having visions..."You turned and looked at him "you don't think it's weird, do you?" You asked. At hearing this Morgie shook his head "no,never."
Morgie ran his fingers though your hair to soothe you "My mother has always told me that having visions is a gift, something special, she's always held that in high regard, i think" morgie caressed your cheek "you...are special."
He watched as your cheeks flushed, "Y/N, there's something I'd like to ask you." Turning to morgie as you waited for him to ask what he wanted. "Y/N, will you be my date to castlecoming."
Your heart skipped a beat, Morgie had asked you to the dance, you wanted to scream "yes!" But you remembered the agreement you and your friends made.
"thank you Morgie. but I'm already going with Bridget and Ella, the three of us are going as friends. I already promised them and i don't want to let them down." Morgie nodded, despite the spell, you declined his invitation "That's okay. You're just being loyal to the promise you made to your friends." Morgie pullled you in close and caressed your cheek "just, please save me a dance Y/N."
You nodded "of course I'll save you a dance Morgie, I'd love to.".Morgie smiled as he pulled out a box "I got you something. If I can't be your date, please let me give you this. To wear at the dance"
He opened the box and revealed a beautiful bracelet, "oh wow Morgie, it's beautiful." You whispered, The bracelet glistened in the sunlight and you put you hand on it before looking back at Morgie. Can I confess something to you that I haven't even told Ella and Bridget?"
Morgie nodded "go on princess." You fiddled with the bracelet "im scared Morgie, im worried that when i become queen I'll let everyone down and I don't want to let my people down. What if no matter how hard i try, I let everyone down?"
Morgie cupped your face "Y/N, you are going to be an amazing queen. You have a kind heart and you genuinely care about people, not just the people in your kingdom. I think you're amazing."
"You do?" You questioned, Morgie nodded "I really do" After a while looked around "we should head back, i have to help Uliana with a project but I'll see you later."
You smiled "yeah, I'll see you later." You turned away from the lake and walked back to the dorms.
Morgie watched as you walked away from the picnic that he had set up. He snapped his fingers and it disappeared. You were going to dance with him at castlecoming, as he thought about the dance, he thoughy about you.
He thought about all the times your hands would brush. The dimples when you smiled, the focus you had when using your magic and moments the two of you had. Butterflies filled his stomach, he was falling for you, for real.
End of flashback
The bracelet glistened in the sunlight and you put you hand on it before looking back at Morgie. "Its beautiful, thank you."
"Hey Morgie, have you ever felt the need to say something important but when you go to say it you can't quite remember?"
Morgie looked at you "I have." He put his hand in yours "what ever you have to say princess, im sure it's very important."
You leaned into kiss him, Morgie looked down at your lips, he wanted to be yours but not like this. "No...I can't" Morgie pulled away from you, turning his back to you and the enchanted lake. Your eyes were looking back into his, "Morgie, is everything okay?"
Morgie took a deep breath, he felt really bad for what he was about to do. "I'm sorry princess, but i need you to wake up." Turning as he pushed you into the enchanted lake
Crashing into the water from the force of the push, covered in the enchanted lake water before blinking rapidly, you coughed as you swallowed some of the lake water "Morgie what the hell?!' You shouted while swimming in the enchanted lake water.
Morgie gazed at you and watched as you swam over to the shore and made your way out the shimmering lake. Clothing dripping wet. The foggy over your mind from the spell lifted.
"You!" A growl came as you stormed over to morgie "You spelled me." You hissed, Morgie looked shook his head "No, Y/N i..." he trailed off before you raised a hand, incating for him to stop. You quickly used magic to try yourself before continuing
"You spelled me, couldn't get me with the biscuit so you had someone spell the cupcake that bridget made for me." You began to raise your voice, and your eyes watered
"Y/N i promise you i didn't spell the cupcake. I didn't spell the cookie, I didn't want you to fall under the spell." You scoffed "Please Morgie why should I believe a word you say."
"Because i don't want you to die because of what happened at Castlecoming" Came his reply, you folded your arms "As if you care!" You went closer to Morgie
"You're the one who spelled me in the first place!"
(A/N: A collaborative piece between @where-dreamers-go and @ivorydragoness44 for an insert reader who is headmaster Merlin’s kid attending Merlin Academy. A little moment between classes where friends and everyone in between could interact.
Warnings: None.
Word Count: 642 words)
A dazzling blue sky day and fresh air greeted you as you stepped outdoors. Another class completed. A few minutes were allotted before the next and you took the opportunity wholeheartedly.
Your mind needed the break as much as you needed to stretch your legs.
Rounding a corner, you caught sight of pink and blue. Familiarity struck your mind.
At it again, you thought while spotting well-decorated baked goods on a tray. Where does she find the time? There was no lying to be had, they looked delicious.
Bridget, with enough kindness to spread across all the lands, was offering dessert to Uliana. It was not the first time either. You highly doubted it would be the last.
Expressions were bright, but the other young villains approached with alarming eagerness. Mischief in tow.
Ella stood firm by her friend. Defensive position, perhaps? Or unyielding loyalty?
No time to act like the present, you thought as you walked over. Silent support. No confrontations. Strength in numbers. Keeping positivity up was an easy disguise of reminders not to go against the family rules. No headmaster’s office trip equals no grounding.
Bridget glanced over to you in minor surprise. Her signature smile widened.
Keep things friendly. Neutral.
All was such for a moment.
An even more familiar presence stepped into your personal space to greet you with glowing eyes. “Are you here for the sweet treats?” Morgie asked with an open-mouthed grin. A teasing challenge.
You could feel the others’ gazes on you then.
“They’re always welcome to have one.” Bridget stated kindly, trying to keep the peace.
But you couldn’t resist an opportunity to play. If only just a little.
Turning directly to Morgie, you let your eyes shine with your own magic and inquired in a near whisper, “Is that why you’re right here?”
You both stood there a long moment. Two magic users staring intently. Locked in the start of a challenge.
Bridget giggled, “He’s blushing.”
Everyone’s focus landed on the boy in front of you.
You blinked.
Indeed, Morgie’s cheeks were flushed, and the glowing of his eyes faded with the self realization.
That’s new.
He tore his gaze from yours and pulled at his scarf, as if it was suddenly too tight.
Laughter erupted behind him as the villains took a look at their companion. They were no less bewildered than he was.
“Just warming up?” Hook smirked and threw his arm around Morgie.
The blush crept to Morgie’s neck and ears.
Again, you were struck with another layer of surprise.
What’s happening?
A dramatic groan escaped Uliana as she rolled her eyes.
In a manner of a few seconds, decorated desserts were snatched and the villains left as fast as they appeared.
Calm surrounded the three of you in the abrupt quiet.
“That was unexpected,” Ella voiced with a hint of disbelief.
“Agreed.” You watched as Morgie was lead away and out of sight.
“Especially you.” Bridget pivoted on the spot.
You threw your hands up defensively. “I wasn’t trying to start trouble. I promise.”
“Morgie was.” Ella crossed her arms.
Her friend smirked and added, “Not that kind of trouble.” Bridget glanced at you again.
“What are you getting at?” You asked, brows furrowing in the slightest.
“Maybe magic is in the air and Morgie…felt something.” A knowing smile followed her words, encouraging and sweet.
“Heh, uh, I don’t think — no. Not that.”
She nodded, pink curls bouncing.
“Then he must have bumped his head and forgot I’m the headmaster’s kid.”
“He’s bad news.” Ella stated simply.
“Morgie’s…” You couldn’t form the sentence. No words pulling negatively toward the boy could be uttered. Your shoulders dropped.
Oh, no. You thought as your stomach fluttered.
“I need to get to class.” Hastily, you raced out of the courtyard with a rush of conflicting emotions and thoughts.
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