The Show Must Go On | Wenclair x Reader (Chapter 1)
There are two things to know about Lyra Dusk: she is a bubbly pop star wrapped in gothic lace, and she is not at Nevermore by choice.
To the public she is the sacrificial lamb sent to the academy to be a symbol of unity. They believe that this is a gesture to heal the rift between normies and outcasts after the chaos of the last school year. Lyra knows better. This act isn’t about peace, it’s about control. It’s just another performance scripted by her stepmother. She’s just the star who can never refuse a role.
Chapter 2
____________
Nevermore was meant to be another stage, another role she couldn’t refuse. But Wednesday saw through the script, and Enid rewrote it altogether.
Hi! Hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Let me know what you think. ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ I’m also taking requests for any Wenclair x OC/Reader pairing combination and maybe others. I want to have more writting practice.
By now the leather of the seat beneath her should have been warm, after all, she’d been curled up on it for almost an hour. With her socked feet folded half under her and half to her left, towards the door of the moving vehicle she scrolled through tiktok on the phone she loosely held in her hands. Quickly moving past any post that made her own face stare up at her. The seat stayed cold though, the chill moving up her legs until she absentmindedly rubbed her arms.
It had been less than two weeks since she had last done that. It was too soon to already be feeling this way, too soon for it to already be starting.
Once a month should have been more than enough, Vivienne’s voice replayed in her head, sharp and accusatory, just as it did every time she started feeling this way far too earlier than she was supposed to. But you can’t even do this right, can you?
Lyra pressed her lips together, staring at her reflection on the screen that had gone dark. She didn’t need another thing to remind her that there was something inside her that was broken, greedy and weak.
Next to her Vivienne sat perfectly poised, her sunglasses covering her green eyes despite the dim interior of the limo. She’d been quiet since they left the airport, feeling no need to keep up the loving-parent façade when the only person around to watch was the lowly chauffeur, who had been buried in NDAs he’d had to sign to work for them. If only her stepmother’s silence didn’t feel like an ever-present pressure. Like she was just waiting for Lyra to inevitably mess up to pounce.
“You’ll smile when we arrive,” she said, finally breaking the silence with her voice as smooth as glass and as cold as the leather beneath Lyra, “but you won’t be too happy, they need to know you’ll miss me.”
Lyra nodded, eyes still locked on the blackened phone. “Yes, mother.”
Even without looking she could feel the weight of Vivienne’s eyes on her. After a moment that felt far too long, Vivienne added. “Don’t get sulky. This is your fault. And sulking is only going to make everything worse.” She let out a sigh when she got no visible response from the girl next to her. “Honestly child, it’s like you forget who you are. Who I’ve made you into. You are Lyra Dusk, and Lyra Dusk doesn’t sulk.”
Lyra bit back the urge to laugh. Right she was Lyra Dusk. Lyra the part of her name she’d chosen against her stepmother’s wishes. One of the only few rebellions she’d managed over the years. She’d snatched it at the last second, nervously whispered it into the spotlight and, unfortunately for Vivienne, it had stuck. Vivienne still hadn’t forgiven her for it, probably never would, even with Lyra having only changed the first name her stepmother had chosen for her, even with Lyra not having been brave enough to also whisper a different last name than Dusk. Vivienne Dusk-Vale’s maiden name.
Vivienne leaned towards Lyra, brushing a soft loose curl of red hair behind her ear. She’d always had a fascination with Lyra’s hair, going so far as to dye her own hair to a shade as close to it as she could. It had always looked a little too off to be real to Lyra.
The gesture was picture perfect, and tender enough that it would have looked amazing if any camera had been watching.
“You’re my little star, you know that,” She whispered, “and one day you’ll thank me for that.”
____
The limo slowed as the trees thinned around them and opened up to reveal wrought-iron gates decorated with black vines. The metal barely reflecting the afternoon sun. Lyra found it both beautiful and ominous. The carved words Nevermore Academy glared down at them from above.
Lyra attempted to have at least one positive thought as the car slowed to a stop. At least I’ll have some privacy here.
Even without looking she knew Vivienne was already pulling her sunglasses up and fixing her face into a soft sad smile. She’s seen her masking process far too often. Over the years she’d even perfected such things as the exact angle of the chin that allowed for the best angle for the cameras to easily catch the slight sheen of misted eyes. She’d perfected a performance that made photographers sob and the fans gush over how strong the bond between mother and daughter was.
“Love,” Vivienne said, voice now filled with false sorrow and she took Lyra’s hand, the performance always started inside the car, just in case anybody was close enough to hear, especially in a school full of freaks “I want you to know that I am so incredibly proud of you. This is such a brave new chapter for you.”
Lyra blinked up at her. Sometimes she was still caught off guard by how gentle Vivienne could be, and even though she knew why it was happening it still made something drop in her. The chauffeur hadn't even gotten out of the car yet. She could see no cameras, no press or any student. Just the forest behind them and the gates in front. Vivienne was spinning her lines for an invisible audience.
The driver finally opened the door, and the smell of the forest rushed into the car, cool against her face in a way the air conditioning of the car couldn’t mimic. Lyra hesitated and Vivienne gave her hand a squeeze. Any non-existent onlooker would think it a comforting gentle gesture. They would not see the nails digging into Lyra’s palms serving as a warning.
“Don’t forget to smile.” Vivienne muttered through her own smile.
Lyra, like she’d grown to always do, obeyed. When she stepped into the gravel drive. The sun caught her red hair but the coldness refused to leave her bones. Vivienne’s hand fell onto her shoulder and the heat of it as she followed her out of the car almost felt like a burn. Vivienne let out a lone tear and Lyra took that as her cue to pull out an embroidered back handkerchief and hand it to her. She theatrically dabbed it on the corner of her eye.
The gates creaked open as a figure approached them from the other side. He was a sharply dressed man whose figure was stiff with an authority Lyra wasn’t sure he possessed. He was the new principal, the one she knew Vivienne had been in contact with for a few weeks, arranging for Lyra’s stay and her slightly delayed arrival to avoid cacophony of the other students’ arrival.
“Principal Dort,” Vivienne greeted smoothly and softly. “Thank you so much for arranging all of this on such short notice. I know it is all a bit.. unusual. “
Lyra remained quiet by her side, smiling at the man and waving with the hand that was holding her phone, a small bag kept the other occupied. Us, she thought like any of this is my choice. For Lyra there was no “us” in this situation. There was only her stepmother shoving into another arrangement, just like she’d always done with the pageants, the auditions and the cameras.
The principal’s eyes flickered between them both, his polite smile giving nothing away. “Of course, Nevermore is always prepared to welcome exceptional students into its halls.” The principal paused for a moment. “There is however, one little caveat. Due to the events of last year, there have been some new security measures instilled. Vehicles from outside are no longer permitted past the gates. If you follow me, we can take my car the rest of the way.”
The chauffeur appeared beside her with some of the bags he’d removed from the trunk and went back for more. Lyra finally noticed the very small car parked on the side of the dirt road just inside the gates. There was no way all of her bags would fit in that trunk. The principal noticed her glance at the bags and then the car and had the same realization.
“Oh,” he said scratching his moustache, “how about we leave the bags here and I’ll have someone come retrieve them and drop them off at your dorm?”
Vivienne's smile didn’t falter, though Lyra, as used to her small tells as she was, caught the faint twitch of irritation that showed itself in the corners of her smile.
The chauffeur already knew the drill; he would be staying with the car, and the bags, just outside the iron gates. Lyra wished to swap places with him.
Lyra felt Vivienne’s hand tighten on her shoulder, long nails digging a bit onto the skin the ruffled sleeves of her black dress didn’t cover, and pushed her forward towards the gates and the car. “That sounds wonderful.”
“Right, this way then” The principal said as he led them towards the car that was nowhere near as luxurious as the limo they had just exited and her stepmother would absolutely hate every minute spent inside it. For a moment Lyra’s smile was real.
Lyra climbed into the backseat, settling down on the vinyl seat and her stepmother settled down in the front as the principal took the wheel.
The car hummed to life louder than Lyra was used to, and started its path towards the place that would house her for at least a full semester, and hopefully not a day longer.
She spotted some movement through the trees, the open window allowing some voices to reach her. Clearly the news of her arrival had clearly not been kept as quiet as it should have. There were a few students gathering off the path, curious about the arrival of the escorted new student.
A pair of eyes that shone far too yellow to be normal caught her attention. The girl they belonged to smiled at Lyra, showing off her teeth that were just a bit too sharp to belong to someone normal. In the whispers they were passing she could only make out her name.
Lyra Dusk.
Her jaw tightened. Freaks, she thought, pressing her phone against her chest as if it would protect her.
From the passenger seat her stepmother cleared her throat and caught Lyra's eyes in the rearview mirror. Her smile remained untouched as she listened to the principal talk about all that was great with the school, but her eyes told a different story. One that Lyra could read perfectly. Smile.
The coldness in her bones intensified, but she smiled anyway. She even threw in a few waves at the monsters hiding behind their own smiles.
The performance was just starting.
