MAD HATTER !
( school for good and evil &&& sge!various x reader )
CHAPTER THREE : the great mistake
YOU AWOKE FOR THE FOURTH, AND FINAL TIME. You were greeted by a plethora of red and yellow lilies, several of which, to your wonder, appeared to be sharing an animated conversation; their leaves and buds brusquely gestured your way.
Eyes shortly doubling in size, you sucked in a sharp breath, shooting up. "My apologies" You muttered like a mantra; you'd never meant to hurt them. Not in your wildest dreams did you wish to hurt something so beautiful.
Although. . . the image of them dried and unsaturated did momentarily cross your mind. Not exactly dead, but not exactly alive either. They would still look so lovely, you mused, just like Emily's bouquet from your favourite tale.
But that thought left quickly as it came, catching a glimpse of your sister, who was being yanked to her feet by the same flowers that now seemed to dote on you, charmed.
Agatha was absolutely mortified as she gazed out at a field of girls, blooming gloriously around the shimmering lake before her. She'd barely even caught sight of you, until you began waving in her general direction, causing her to hurdle your way.
Reaching your side, she clutched tightly onto your arm, her eyes despairingly meeting yours, as if to question her sanity (though you may not have been the best person to ask, had that been the case). She couldn't believe what she was witnessing. Girls sprouted right from the earth. First heads poked through the soft dirt, then necks, then chests, then up until their arms stretched into the fluffy blue sky and planted delicate slippers upon the ground.
"It's alright," You answered her silent question, voice dreamy as usual, "You're not going mad or anything. I can see them too."
"Can you now?" asked Agatha desperately, half-mocking and half-pleading. She could see the shimmers of the lake reflected in your wide, silvery eyes. "Oh yes, don't worry."
"You're just as sane as I am." You smiled faintly, unnerving your sister even more.
While she tried to piece whatever remnants of reality she had left, you took in the sight before you. The sprouting girls, while looking nothing like you or your sister, were the textbook definitions of beautiful.
Their faces, some fair, some dark, were smooth and flawless, shining bright with no sign of blemishes in sight. Their skin glowed with health, and their hair shone like waterfalls, ironed and curled as they rolled down their backs. They wore downy dresses of peach, yellow, and white, reminding you much of the Easter eggs you would find and (attempt to) raise into hatchlings.
As the field flourished with new students, a team of three glitter-winged fairies came flying in, and went to greet each one — yourself included. Chiming and chinkling, they dusted the girls of dirt, poured them cups of honeybush tea, and tended to their trunks, which had sprung from the ground with their owners.
Where exactly these beauties were coming from, Agatha hadn't the faintest idea. You, on the other hand, thought straight to the Flowerground network that two of your friends had fondly blabbered to you about (they weren't the least bit interested in the topic until they caught the glimmer of interest in your eyes, though you didn't have to know that).
An endless bloom of Sophies fills the field, the thought of your friend, momentarily breaking you out of your reverie and straightening upright. Sophie wasn't there. You stood on your toes and cupped your hands around your eyes, hoping desperately to find your friend, all the while knowing the bitter truth.
She'd been dropped in the opposite school she had longed to attend — the same school she'd been so adamant both you and your sister much rather belonged.
Some sort of guilt clawed on your insides. Sophie had long since dreamt of the day she'd be kidnapped and dropped off at the School for Good. Yet, here you are, selfishly living out her dream, and, admittedly, even happy with the way things had turned out.
You released a short sigh, coming to the inevitable truth. Your friend wasn't here, nor would you spot her in the endless bloom.
But a fairy (one that had earlier fretted over your unconscious form) circled you, dusting your clothes, and inspecting every inch of your skin for open wounds.
"Why, hello, you beautiful creature. . ." The fairy stilled upon your genuine words, albeit released a string of bitter chimes before turning away with a huff and crossing its arms pettily. You were stupefied, blinking at its back in confusion, when you caught sight of its wings.
A pair of little black dots covered its hindwings, just as a male butterfly would have. You had your father's illustrations to thank for the information.
"Oh my, I'm sorry. I meant handsome." The fairy switches from bitter chimes to a merry flutter, leading you to where the other girls are headed.
Quite amused by his swift switch-up, you followed after, quickly making haste with a pair of girls, who mirror your sweet smile.
Everything seemed much more pleasant than you could have imagined. However, your excitement was interrupted by your sister's distinct yowls, as she struggled to fend off a jingling fairy that attracted (in her own words) — the rainbow vomit — that seemed to be luring you in.
Agatha's efforts at separating you from the group weren't completely fruitless, though she'd much prefer a less embarrassing means of gaining your attention.
The fairy flew into your sister's mouth in a wild turn of events, causing her to swallow it. And as she strived to catch your gaze, she was met with at least sixty beautiful girls gaping at her; the cat in a nightingale's nest.
"Aggie!" Many looked at you in confusion as you rushed to your sister's side and helped her cough out the fairy, who turned out to be buddies with the one you'd befriended (he seemed just as, if not more upset with your sister with the way he glowered).
"Why, do you know her?" A sweet-faced brunette's words, unlike the other girls' mutters, were filled with nothing but curiosity, though your sister took it the wrong way, and scowled even deeper, cheeks staining with an unusual pigment of red.
You, however, had been oblivious to the tense bubble that wrapped around the situation, only nodding to her question with a small frown as your eyes bounced back and forth between your sister and the male fairy she'd spat out. The poor thing was shivering so intensely. . .
In the distance, sweet bells rang out from the stunning glass castle of pink and blue across the crystal clear lake.
The teams of fairies all grabbed their girls by the shoulders, hoisted them into the air, and flew them across the lake towards the towers. Agatha, on the other hand, saw this as a chance to escape.
She went to grab you, to drag you away as fast as she could. But before she could even inch your way, you'd already been lifted into the air by a trio of fairies — one being that which greeted you earlier, and the other two being a pair of females.
The cool air nipped at your skin as the faint smile on your face twitched higher.
Being all that way off the ground felt almost magical. The skies were bright and clear, the breeze crisp and fresh, and nothing weighed you down from that feeling.
Even as the fairies slowly brought you before the glass castle, you carried with you that carefree smile as the sweet creatures allowed you all to proceed freely. While the other girls went on their merry way, you stood back and waited on your sister. You hadn't noticed, but unlike your smooth fly, Agatha was being dragged across the skies like a prisoner being brought to their cell.
She was miserable, even more so than that one time she'd indulged you in one of your afternoon strolls in the forest. You were, at the time, on the hunt for your favourite butterfly clips that had gone missing (stolen by the other village kids) the day prior. While you smiled and waved it off as the Nargles simply enjoying themselves, Agatha made sure to glare at every passing villager that seemed any bit suspicious. Your butterfly clips reappeared hours later.
In that short, while you stood waiting, absently gazing at your reflection from the castle's polished glass, you failed to notice the set of footsteps that eagerly treaded your way.
Maurice Beast and Lorelai Ryder were a pair of beautiful brunettes (the latter having spoken to you earlier on,) and both crowned princesses to their own kingdoms. They were the same pair who had earlier greeted you with charming smiles, and the same ones who had, unbeknownst to you, heard story upon story of you from a certain Benjamin Beast, who was Marie's older brother (by five minutes, though he never fails to remind her of that) and Tedros Pendragon, who was his best friend.
Gently hooking their arms around yours, they sent a charming smile your way. The skin around their eyes crinkled softly, and tender tones laced their words.
"My name is Maurice." The blue-eyed beauty seemed particularly irked; her nose scrunched up in displeasure, "But call me Marie, all my friends do."
"And by friends, she means me." Lorelai seemed particularly soft spoken, though she took great pleasure in teasing the Beast. "And I'm Rory-"
"Lorelai, you mean," Marie interjected, sending her friend a mocking smile, which went ignored.
"No one calls me Lorelai. That's my mother, whom I was also named after." You noticed how fondly she spoke of her mom; the observation caused you to smile.
"That's nice," you'd long forgotten much else, matching the pair's pace, and awing at the sight of the mirrored words arching over the golden gates you were passing through:
THE SCHOOL FOR GOOD ENLIGHTENMENT AND ENCHANTMENT
You couldn't contain your gasp as you neared the palace. It was beautiful. While it may not have been nearly as stunning as all the places you'd travelled to in your dreamscapes, it was real. Rather, you were truly living, breathing, and actually in it. And arm-in-arm with new friends, to make things better.
"Gorgeous, don't you think?" Marie muttered your name; you'd absent-mindedly given it to them while you were distracted. They didn't mind though, having found it adorable of you, completely true to the princes' sayings.
"Oblivious, but precious" were their exact words (that's all Marie had comprehended from her brother's rant, at least) — only a few to mark the neverending list they had when it came down to the topic of you. They were smitten poets down bad for a clueless angel. It both frustrated them to no end and enthralled them beyond belief. Their minds constantly came back to you, just as yours did to them. But unlike the others, you couldn't click the connection between them and your emotions just yet, though they could never blame you, nor rush you to a conclusion. You had forever after to fall in love after all.
It pleasantly astonished you how Marie and Rory were genuine and greatly enthusiastic to befriend you, as back in Gavaldon, it was usually your quirks and unusual sense of self that scared others off. But now, you were thrilled to have gained new friends, especially ones that were willing to entertain the topic of Wrackspurts and Nargles, which no one else (bar those figments of your dreams) dared to discuss. Not even your sister.
Moving forward, you glanced up at the frosted castle doors, emblazoned with two white swans. But as the doors opened and fairies herded the girls into a tight, mirrored corridor, the line came to a halt and the majority went to explore what they could.
Your eyes traced the details along the marble floors, following the little swirls along the pavement, and watching closely as it met the walls of mirrors. The entrance hall was pristine, just as the beautiful girls gathered within it.
A small voice in the back of your head muttered words of discouragement, whispering you did not belong. You caught the looks directed at you as you went, eyes lingering at your dirt-caked dress, as well as the glances sent towards your air-tousled hair. Some mirrored your smile, others observed with neutral eyes, and a fair few looked on with scrutinizing expressions. Over your years, you'd gotten used to the lingering glances. Gavaldon wasn't particularly kind to you growing up.
"I'm assuming you're this year's reader then, aren't you?" Rory looked over curiously, shaking you out of your haze.
You blinked at the question, briefly recalling the times your foggy-faced friends had referred to you with that same term. Reader. You never understood what they were insinuating. But you were only left to assume it was a playful quip in reference to the amount of reading you did on a regular basis. You told them all about the stacks hidden beneath your bed, after all.
"Oh," Marie traded a glance with Rory. They both noted your bewildered expression, making a mental note to swat the boys for their ignorance later on. "A reader from Beyond the Woods."
"Every new batch of students includes a pair of readers from Galva—"
"Gavaldon," the blue-eyed brunette equipped. "My grandmother was a reader too."
The revelation caused you to halt momentarily. Looking closely at the girl, she did in fact resemble a face you were much familiar with. Anabel, a beauty taken decades before had become the literal Beauty in the tale of Beauty and the Beast. However, it was not her wondrous storybook paintings that ignited your recognition, but rather the Missing Children posters that clung onto the walls of Gavaldon to this day.
Marie mirrored her grandmother's features — both bore the same chestnut locks, identically defined noses and matched all the way to the peachy pink hue of their lips. The majority of their features were one and the same, bar her bright blue eyes, the striking features Adam Beast had passed down.
"In that case, yes, I am a reader, I suppose." You smiled, finally understanding why you were here, and why the kidnappings occurred every four years. It finally made sense as well, why your friends referred to you as such. They must have known you would somehow be of the next batch to be swept off from Gavaldon. Although, if there were only ever a pair per batch, then what made this year special—
Vile, albeit familiar-odored fumes swept the corridor. From your clueless perspective, it simply appeared to be your sister finally making herself at home. However, from Agatha's, it was the perfect diversion.
Her swift, loud fart was an effective pursuit of chaos and panic.
Ghastly fumes ripped through the tight corridor as squealing girls stampeded for cover and fairies swooned at first smell, leaving her a clear path to the door. She glanced in your direction through the disarray, smirking upon the easy access she gained to reach you.
Only Beatrix stood in her way, too shocked to move. Agatha took a step towards her and leaned in like a wolf.
"Boo."
Beatrix fled for her life.
As Agatha sprinted, she quickly snatched your wrist from your company's loosened grip, leading your wide-eyed self to the door. She looked back with pride as girls collided into walls and trampled each other to escape. Solely fixed on rescuing Sophie, she ignored any sign of your struggle, lunging through the frosted doors, and running for the lake.
You were lucky to have manoeuvred out of her grip just before she reached the shore, as it was just as she got to it that the waters rose up in a giant wave and with a tidal crash, slammed her back through the doors, through screeching girls, until she landed on her stomach in a puddle.
Meanwhile, you were worried to death of her state, rushing back to the hall, and slumping in relief as you watched her stagger to her feet dripping in a puddle of water.
"Welcome, New Princess," a floating, seven-foot nymph snatched your attention off your sister and left you unbeknownst to the pair of girls who flanked your sides upon the sight of you. It moved aside to reveal a foyer so magnificent both yourself and Agatha lost your breath. "Welcome to the School for Good."
The more in awe you grew of the place, the more your sister felt she didn't belong. Whilst you both received the same confused looks from the faculty, you paid it no mind, just as you always had.
Together they lined the four spiral staircases of the cavernous glass foyer, two of them pink, two blue, showering confetti upon the new students. The female professors wore different-coloured versions of the same slim, high-necked dress, with a glittering silver swan crest over the heart. Each had added a personal touch to the dress, whether inlaid crystals, beaded flowers, or even a tulle bow. The male professors, meanwhile, all wore bright slim suits in a rainbow of hues, paired with matching vests, narrow ties, and colourful kerchiefs tucked into pockets embroidered with the same silver swan.
Both readers noticed immediately they were all more attractive than any adults you had ever seen. Even the older faculty was elegant to the point of intimidation. Your sister had always tried to convince all three of you (herself, Sophie, and you) that beauty was pointless as it was temporary. Here was proof it lasted forever.
The teachers tried to disguise their nudges and whispers upon seeing the dripping-wet, misplaced student, as well as the peculiar and dazed-looking one, but you were both used to catching these things.
Then your sister noticed one who wasn't like the rest. Haloed against a stained glass
window with a shamrock green suit, silver hair, and shiny hazel eyes, he beamed down at you both as if you completely belonged. Agatha reddened. Anyone who thought she belonged here was a loon. Meanwhile, as your hazy eyes met his, you felt your smile solidify. There was something comforting in his gaze, almost as though seeing right through your oddities, but also recognizing your eccentricities all at once.
"Where are the boys?" You heard a girl ask another, as they filed in front of three enormous, floating nymphs with neon hair and lips, who handed out their schedules, books, and robes.
While Agatha trailed the tail of the line, you were somewhere in its centre. Stationed both before and behind you were your new friends, who both seemed to acknowledge their fellow princess' mutters, trading a look and scrunching their noses at the thought.
"They're off preparing for their grand entrance," Marie filled you in, exasperated, "It's everything my brother and Tedros have been busying themselves with for months now, among other things. . ."
Mumbling the latter of her words, you grew oblivious to them, rather occupied with thoughts surrounding the individuals the Beast had made mention of. Tedros was mostly never without Ben, and Ben was mostly never without Tedros. At least, that's how they appeared whenever you would meet. Thus, you thought it safe to assume they were the two males Marie was speaking of. Tedros was no common name, after all.
You looked on at the majestic stair room, mind swirling around the thought of (finally) meeting two of the five individuals who had planted their roots in your dreamland, growing like ivy on the walls of your house of stone.
The wall opposite you had an enormous pink-painted E, with lovingly drawn angels and sylphs fluttering around its edges. The other three walls had painted letters too, spelling out the word E-V-E-R in pink and blue. The four spiral staircases were arranged symmetrically at the corners of each wall, lit by high stained glass windows. One of the two blue flights had HONOR tattooed upon its baluster, along with glass etchings of knights and kings, while the other read VALOR, decorated with blue reliefs of hunters and archers. The two pink glass staircases had PURITY and CHARITY emblazoned in gold, along with delicate friezes of sculpted maidens, princesses, and kindly animals.
In the centre of the room, alumni portraits blanketed a soaring crystal obelisk that reached from milky marble floor to domed sunroof. Higher up on the obelisk were gold-framed portraits of students who became princes and queens after graduation. In the middle were silver frames, for those who found lesser fates as jaunty sidekicks, dutiful housewives, and fairy godmothers. And near the bottom of the pillar, flecked with dust, were bronze-framed underachievers who had ended up footmen and servants. But regardless of whether they became a Snow Queen or a chimney sweep, you saw the students sharing the same beautiful faces, kind smiles, and soulful eyes. Here in a glass palace in the middle of the woods, the best of life had gathered in service of Good. And here you were, a Grey Graveyard Girl, out of your place and out of your mind for feeding the lie that you, for once, fit in.
"Thank you, ma'am," you smiled up at the pink-haired nymph upon reaching her. You simply brushed off how she blinked, visibly surprised by your actions and your wispy tone, instead waiting patiently until her smile met her eyes, and handed you a basket, as well as a piece of parchment. "You are most welcome, Y/N of the Woods Beyond."
As you left your place in line, you walked off to the side, where the princesses all compared schedules and got dressed in their uniforms: a pink dress of tea-length chiffon in raspberry soufflé, sleeves poofy with carnations, worn over a white lace blouse and blush-satin Mary Janes (all provided by the school).
While you found the attire quite a sight, it appeared more Sophie's style — something she would and has been trying (and failing) to have you wear. And by the looks of both Marie and Rory's faces, you thought it safe to say they felt the same.
You could always just alter it, however — the thought made you brighten up, especially as you were used to making your own clothes back home. You even offered your assistance to your friends, albeit they preferred not to risk any sort of infractions, thus, limiting your help to simply accessorising, though you didn't at all mind.
Perusing your schedules, you three discuss your classes, as well as professors ("Mother dearest told me she admired Professor Sader in her school days, and I could never understand why until now," Rory chuckled), in the end, all glad to know you shared the same forest group (number three).
In the midst of all that went on, it was only then that you went to find your sister, hoping to learn of her schedule and offer her any sort of assistance from your end.
However, stunned, Agatha looked at future princesses around her, tightening their pink dresses. She looked at books that told her beauty was a privilege, that she could win a chiselled prince, that she could talk to birds. She looked at a schedule meant for someone beautiful, graceful, and kind — someone whom, between her and yourself, only you could live up to. Then she looked up at a handsome teacher, who smiled at the side of your clueless head, as well as at her as if expecting the greatest things from Y/N and Agatha of Gavaldon.
Agatha did the only thing she knew how to do when faced with expectations. Up the blue Honor staircase, through sea-green halls, she ran.
She ran, leaving behind a hurt sister, who watched her turn away without hesitation.
MAD HATTER
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