Warnings: Mentions of underage alcohol consumption, breakdown, numbness, crying.
Clarissa Dovey impatiently drummed her fingernails on the edge of her desk, waiting.
Surrounding her the entire faculty of the School for Good and Evil mirrored her movements, fidgeting, scratching and tapping their feet, waiting to free themselves from her cramped office.
Well, almost the entire faculty.
Only one, certain blonde-haired professor, was absent.
"The child has time to plan Lunchtime Lectures, a self-centred musical, even plan to "makeover" the School for Evil's castle but she doesn't have time to make it to her own meeting. Pathetic, that's what it is." Professor Dovey muttered under her breath.
After fifteen more minutes, Dovey's calm facade cracked.
"Right. Well, seeming as Sophie - sorry Dean Sophie - cannot make it to her own meeting, I, as her fellow Dean declare this meeting adjourned."
Mutters of relief echoed across her office as the professors exited the room.
Every professor but one went to their rooms with a will to sleep, tired from the days events and reassured that Sophie was perfectly fine. Most likely bathing in a tub of camel milk, in one of her designer, marble-floor bathrooms, slathering a cucumber mask over her face and sipping carrot soda, completely forgetting her commitments and succumbing to relaxation.
Only one professor went to their room, unnerved and slightly worried, his hands running through his hair.
Sophie, despite her nature to dismiss important facts, and put herself above everything, surprisingly never missed professors meetings, not even once.
But despite the odd situation, Hort reassured himself that one of her new face lavender mask sets probably arrived, and she forgot all else.
He began preparing for sleep, having a shower, brushing his teeth, and slipping on a comfortable shirt with a bright green frog on it, before freezing.
The professors meeting had been about the results of the vote for whether the School for Evil should have an annual No Ball if they won the Trial by Tale.
Sophie would never have missed that! Something terrible must have happened.
Rushing out of his room, he hurriedly closed the door and began his ascent up the tower stairs to the bridge leading to the Schoolmaster's - or rather Sophie's - Tower.
What had happened to her? Had someone kidnapped her? Was she injured? Was she okay?
Adrenaline pumped through his body, making him go faster and faster. In seconds, he was at the edge of the bridge and sprinting across it to the door of the tower.
He pounded on it, yelling Sophie's name, his face crinkling with concern.
"Hort, go away." A weak voice said in reply.
That voice.... that voice couldn't be Sophie. Sophie's voice always was full of confidence and disdain when he talked to her. And that voice was pathetic.
It sounded like she had no hope for herself and that she'd just, given up. That couldn't be. Sophie just wasn't like that.
Hoping for the best, Hort turned the knob and witnessed a sight that made his heart stop.
But not the one that he knew.
Hair was plastered to her face, the rest of it flying in all directions. Black mascara dripping down her face and her lips were a smudged mess of pink.
She was simply lying there, gazing at the roof and sniffing softly, while hugging her silk-clad self tightly.
Beside her a bottle of expensive-looking Rosé lay empty, next to an open letter.
"Are you ok?" Hort asked gently, cursing himself he couldn't ask a question with a less obvious answer.
"Hort, what do you honestly think, judging by my appearance?" Sophie said dryly.
Hort bit his lip, and lowered himself to her level, sitting down beside her.
Sophie sighed, rolling over, and faced the wall.
"Do you know what day it is today, Hort?"
"Apart from that, Hort. What's the date?"
Hort racked his memory, vaguely remembering a student reminding him of it today.
"Do you know what that means?"
For the second time that night, an obvious fact hit Hort. How could he have forgotten? It was Sophie's birthday and he hadn't got her a thing!
"Umm... well, yeah, it's your birthday. But, uh, what happened?"
Sophie sat up and turned to face him with a fierce expression on her face.
"Well for starters, nobody remembered. Don't look at me with that innocent look Hort, even you forgot. That's probably what surprised me most," She began, stating the last bit softly and sadly.
"But to top things off even more, Agatha, Agatha, my best friend, my twin sister hasn't written me for six months, today.
"I understand and sympathise with her that she hasn't got any time for daily letters, let alone weekly ones. I've had enough hustle and bustle as a Dean myself, and as a Queen I wonder she's got any time at all. The first two months I got it; she'd just arrived at Camelot, the Royal Rot was tracking her down, Teddy and her had an awful lot to do about the castle and roles to uphold that they weren't used to.
"The third and fourth months I was quite frustrated, but reassured myself with the sensationalised newspapers that they had a lot on their hands, lots of allegations to defend, the Wedding to plan, plus the continuous problem of Tedros not pulling Excalibur, etc, etc.
"But the fifth and sixth months I'd had it. I was tired of sympathising and being good and patient. My sister, best friend, twin, hadn't been talking to me for six months. Six months! I don't think I said anything wrong!
"And then today, on our birthday I came here early, feeling sad and worn out from the day, hoping, just hoping I'd see an envelope. An envelope from her. Was that too much to ask? But I never saw one. And we've always celebrated our birthday's together, even though they were separate dates. These last few years, we haven't had time for things like thoughtful presents and cards... but... but she always remembered. Always." Sophie broke into sobs, covering her mouth.
Hort awkwardly patted her shoulder and she lunged forward, burying her face in his shoulder.
"Oh Hort, I never thought that I would lose her. But it's too late now isn't it? I've lost her. Hort, I've lost her!" Sophie wailed.
Hort didn't have a clue what to do.
Princes usually were supposed to reassure, and whisper "sweet nothings" into their distressed damsel's ears.
But the problem was, that he wasn't a prince. Sophie wasn't a damsel in distress either.
She was just a heartbroken, slightly tipsy witch.
And frankly, Hort had no idea what reassuring things he could say about Agatha, because he didn't know if she was going to come back to Sophie! Girls! They had much too complex minds and reasons for doing things he didn't quite grip. So he decided to think of the most reassuring thing he could say, which in theory was quite comforting, but not quite what Sophie wanted.
"Well, I'm here for you, and, I'll stay if you need me... or let me..." Hort said his confidence faltering by the last few words.
Sophie let out a chuckle, with a sprinkle of mirth.
"You're always here, Hort, aren't you?" Sophie joked, half to herself.
He pulled out of the embrace and stood up quickly.
"Sorry," He said "I'll go."
Sophie collected herself and grasped his arm, swaying slightly.
"I didn't mean it in that way!" She said hastily.
"I meant that... well I meant that.... you're, you're always there for me, Hort and... I'm very grateful and well, Hort I pretend to dislike you and be all princessy and weird," She giggled then her face straightened "But really ... I... I really-"
"Yes?" Hort breathed, hope filling his eyes.
Squawk! Squawk! Boobeshwar began making a racket.
"Oh! Perfect, those must be my Van Zacharin clothes arriving! Come on Hort, help me carry the boxes to my room!"
Hort groaned, cursing his luck and geese.
As he picked up boxes he felt gloominess soaking through him, but then smiled to himself as he saw Sophie beaming in excitement at all the clothes he carried in his arms as he ascended the staircase.
