#Ethel continues to never be drawn with shoes

[fountainpenguin]

Happy 3rd Anniversary...

And I’m still so glad you’re here.

January 5th, 2014

Gavin and Ethel’s first concept designs: A mute pirate without a tongue and a clumsy, awkward stage magician with a magic hat. My plan was to write a journey story where the main characters, a boy and a girl, grow to hate each other instead of falling in love.

With this supposedly being a middle-grade book, its working title is the silly “The Awesomely Epic Adventures of Gavin Finch and His Charming Assistant Lady Ethel Starflower”.

In this early draft of their story, Gavin and his family had just stolen a statue of an ancient warrior prince that, when connected to its base (located in a museum on Ethel’s island), came to life and obeyed the commands of the one who woke it. Rival pirates interfered, cut out Gavin’s tongue, and left him to drift in the sea, until he came across Ethel on her island.

Ethel nursed Gavin to health for a day, but along with being an absolute grump who hates everything, he was eager to get moving. He managed to communicate to her that he wished to get to the far side of her island country. Coincidentally, she was going that way to fill in for her late uncle at his show. Since she’s shy, Ethel uses Gavin as her mouthpiece to insult others or otherwise stand up for herself. She also has a pet rabbit named Bunny.

After a journey full of danger, they arrive and confront the pirates. Gavin sacrifices the statue to save Ethel, ending up hospitalized as a result (So, there goes the ‘hate each other’ idea), which brings us to how we met him in the first chapter of the story.

Once upon a time their names were Xander Skyxx and Angela Frostborn, but we don’t talk about that phase of their lives...

March 9th, 2014

First time in color! Ethel has actual magic now. She got a complete redesign too, though Gavin's mostly the same. Trying to design the magic system and leaning towards alchemy. Gavin and Ethel become awkward friends at the end of the story rather than completely hating one another.

Title has been shortened to “Gavin Finch” as a nickname.

This time, our story opens with Gavin and two of his friends stealing the old statue, rather than beginning with his family celebrating on their pirate ship after having stolen the statue from the mansion. They get caught in the process, and attacked by the old man’s pet phoenix. Gavin ends up tumbling over the edge of a cliff.

Ethel was down below at this time. When she sees Gavin falling, her first thought is, I hope he doesn’t bite his tongue! It’s night and she has little control of her powers, so her moon magic triggers and inadvertently burns his tongue out of existence.

Funnily enough, despite me shifting the entire story backwards, I submitted this first chapter for critique at this writing conference I attended, and was told that I hadn’t started back far enough.

There was also a wizard named Leonard in the story at this point, who used fast sun magic as opposed to Ethel’s slow moon magic. He was met halfway through the story after Gavin gets sick due to Ethel drawing power from his life force to use her magic. He calls Ethel out on this. She shocks everyone when she reveals she was doing it intentionally because she really wanted to use her magic again after such a long time spent smothering it and she’s just selfish like that.

I removed him due to the release of “Total Drama: Pahkitew Island” and the introduction of Leonard the LARPer, who may be more delusional than an actual LARPer as he legitimately believes in his powers and has next to no sense of self-preservation. I love him, so I accept this trade-off.

Ethel’s pet rabbit became a jackalope. This is about as far as I got before scrapping everything again, seeing as I’d lost my rival pirates and was becoming discouraged overall. Their story was put on hold as I got distracted with writing Total Drama fanfics and participating in PMDU.

May 11th, 2015

Gavin's first time in digital color! He is now an ambassador-in-training instead of a pirate. Drawn along with the heads of all the other ambassadors at the Sikhorian embassy.

And this one’s not mine, but....

May 15th, 2015

Completely out of the goodness of her heart, @sieryn randomly surprises me with the first piece of fanart for my story, which to this day still melts me because she’s so cool and I’ve always liked her a lot.

It’s a bit of a wake-up call too, and I’m greatly encouraged by the idea that other people might like my original characters. Maybe they have a chance of surviving in the big leagues after all! I start to wean myself off Total Drama stuff and begin working on their story again with renewed vigor. A-and... I like it?!? 

Sieryn, you might’ve just saved their little tails from the trash can or the eternal WIP heap, and I will always owe you for that!

June 3rd, 2015

Since Gavin is no longer mute, there is now a language barrier between him and Ethel. Also, Ethel officially becomes the chillest character I've ever made.

Story has now been nicknamed “Stars and Finches” as a joke since Ethel’s last name was changed from Starflower to Vinalla and Finch became Eastwist. I have no ideas for an actual title.

Ethel’s country officially has a name by this point (Sikhoria) as does Gavin’s (Krindan), and several others. Sikhoria is now a peninsula instead of an island, though it remains a tropical tourist trap.

As mentioned above, the plot changes completely- the statue of the warrior prince no longer exists. The goal of the story is now to bring Gavin to the embassy after he’s shipwrecked, following the disappearance of the former ambassador, his father, Sebastian Eastwist. Although they still face bandits, a mermaid attack, and a dragon, they now also deal with fantastic racism, and they get along a little better than they did before.

There was also a brief period where I toyed with the idea of Gavin selling diseases in jars. Y’know, like vaccines? Might come back to that someday.

January 18th, 2016

Ethel's first time in digital color! Total Drama ‘fics and PMDU have sapped the majority of my attention, so little about the story has changed. Ethel now saves magic spells on her arms and triggers them for future use.

The story is still being referred to as “Stars and Finches”.

I played with the idea of Gavin’s eye glowing when Ethel uses her powers, due to her stealing his life force when she channels her magic. This piece here shows how much their personalities have flipped from the olden days- now it’s Ethel who’s acting the more threatening, and Gavin who’s more cautious. He’s holding ambassador paperwork, if you were wondering.

Their personalities may have slowly shifted, but their designs remain much the same. Gavin still looks rather shipwrecked and has his ambassador scarf, while Ethel still wears long-sleeved robes despite living in the tropics in order to hide the marks on her skin, since she’s practicing magic illegally.

This time, fantastic racism issues really control a lot of the story. Gavin and Ethel have opposing views and, although their journey had brought them together, begin to grow apart towards the end. Details are still somewhat fuzzy.

It was also my first time attempting a bokeh background.

December 6th, 2016

These two are finally looked at again after many months of me playing around with “The Fairly OddParents”. Gavin has always been half-elf, but now looks less "human" than before. He has feathers now. Same scarf, still the Krinnish ambassador. Ethel has a new design for a more modern culture. Freckles too.

A few titles are debated: “Painting Finches In the Stars” and “The Finch In the Boardroom”. The latter is tempting, but writes Ethel off and she’s too important.

The plot remains fuzzy at this point. Ethel’s motivation for leaving her home has been called into question so many times, now that she’s no longer a stage magician. Her hat was removed because of "Fairly OddParents". After being told that “glowing tattoos” was a cliche, I removed them. This leaves me at a loss for a magic system, apart from the “soul color” system I had long been working to perfect. The existence of “Undertale” does not help matters.

As mentioned above, these two had their clothing changed completely, and have no sleeves because the setting is the tropics. The magic system remains questionable. Gavin is half-witling and Ethel is a full-blooded fauner.

January 5th, 2017

Three years later, Gavin and Ethel’s designs have been finalized. Their 100% fantasy world has been fully constructed. The magic system - one that uses neither wands nor glowing tattoos nor elemental powers nor even magic as a genetic thing or as an STD - is in place. It’s completely unique and 99.99% guaranteed as not having been thought up before, or at least not seen as far as can be confirmed. A fresh plot has been outlined. They’ve come a long way.

It’s go time.

[jugandbettsdetectiveagency]

The Serpent and The Swan - Ch.6

Goodness this was a long time coming, and I don’t think I’m entirely happy with it, but if I look at it anymore I fear I may explode! Thank you so much for being patient with me and continuing to shower me with such wonderful support for this fic, I hope you enjoy!

Ch.1 / Ch.2 / Ch. 3 / Ch.4 / Ch.5 / Read on AO3

It no longer surprised Betty when she would find herself looking forward to her meetings with Jughead. She wished she could say it had crept up on her slowly, the way Caramel would creep along the swell of her pillows on silent paws just before dawn, pouncing suddenly on stray strands of her hair and gnawing at them between tiny mewls. Bothersome but heart-warming all at once. But in reality she knew, despite herself, Betty had felt something for Jughead right from the start.

Initially she could blame the stirrings within herself on annoyance, frustration, and the sheer distress of knowing that they were to be married before they even had a chance to hear the sound of one other’s voices. But feelings as intense as these demanded motivation, and once Betty began to seek out such stimulus her mind would only supply her with one word: jealousy.

At first she thought it was just the sight of Cheryl, as competition for her future husband’s affections before she’d even had the chance to vie for them. This, coupled with her past experiences being pushed aside for the more appealing woman, had made her think that it didn’t matter who the man was and she was just programmed to feel the bitter taste of bile rising to the back of her throat whenever she was being treated as second best – something she felt doomed to happen for the rest of her life.

But then something unnerving happened, throwing Betty’s own view of herself off kilter for yet another instance in the course of a few weeks.

***

“Your Highness?” Ethel’s timid voice had floated through the crack in her chamber door following a light knock on the wood.

“Yes?” Betty asked unassumingly, not bothering to turn from where she was perched at the foot of her bed, dangling a feather on the end of a string to lovingly taunt her pet cat. She giggled as Caramel attempted to clap the soft down between his paws, quirking his head in childlike confusion when she pulled it away at the last second. When no reply came she looked up, finding Ethel stood nervously in the doorway, her expression worried. “What is it, Ethel?”

“You have a visitor waiting in the library for you, Princess.” She took a breath. “It’s Prince Archibald,” she winced.

Betty instantly schooled her features into one of impassiveness as she gathered her skirts and rose from her position, sweeping past her maid with rigid determination. The steady patter of the soles of her shoes on the floor helped measure her breathing as she walked, hoping the hitch in her throat wasn’t too noticeable to anyone other than herself. The door wasn’t closed when she finally stood before it, unfortunately not giving Betty the time she wanted to compose herself before she locked eyes with her former flame.

Archie was pacing nervously, clasped hands against his lips when he finally noticed Betty, stilled at the threshold. His thick eyebrows were drawn low over his eyes, bright hair mussed.

“Prince Archibald, I wasn’t expecting your company,” Betty addressed him stiffly, tilting her chin upwards. She buried her hands in the folds of her skirts, fingers flexing restlessly.

“Betty, come on,” Archie sighed, his look pleading. “It’s just us. I’m still… me. Don’t be like this,” he begged. Behind his eyes Betty could still see the boy she used to think she would spend the rest of her days with, the boy that she had grown up believing she was in love with. She averted her gaze, stepping further into the room and pushing the door until it was ajar. If anyone walked by it would still be considered inappropriate for her to be alone with the recently married Prince. She wandered over to a nearby bookshelf, running her fingers over the spines for something to do.

“I have every right to be upset, Archie,” Betty mumbled. “It wasn’t fair what happened, and it was made even worse by the fact that you didn’t even seem to care!” Archie flinched, moving to step towards her before thinking better of himself. “Did I really mean so little to you?” She bit her lower lip to prevent it from quivering in betrayal.

“I know. I know, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like this. We were friends before we were anything else. Believe me, Betty, the last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt you.”

“It’s a little late for that,” she exhaled. “Why are you here, Arch? You haven’t seen fit to apologise before, so why now?” she asked tiredly, abruptly feeling the strong urge to crawl back beneath her sheets until tomorrow came. The prince didn’t say anything, far more interested in his shoes all of a sudden. Betty turned to face him fully. “Did she make you come?” Archie paled. She wanted to flee but the curiosity in her rooted her to the spot.

“Listen, Veronica knows what happened between us, or what was supposed to happen anyway. And she feels bad, really she does, and she wants a chance to make amends.” He strode forwards, resting his hands gingerly on Betty’s shoulders, as if he were afraid she might disappear at any moment.

“What for?” His hands felt like deadweight.

“Because we can do better than our parents. Because we can bring the factions together when it’s our turn,” he suggested, voice tipped in childlike excitement. She shot him a look that if it were spoken out loud could only have been captioned as oh, Archie.

“You really think that’s all it’s going to take?” She had to appreciate his unfiltered optimism. The chasms between factions had been splintering decades before they were born, and she had only assumed they’d continue that way long after. Her history lessons were all but nil, no one wishing to relive the age that brought so much discord to the people, but a few texts buried in the library had taught her there used to be unity, that one ruler commanded the whole realm. The idea seemed so impossible to her now. But, she supposed, with the union between Archie and Veronica, and soon to be herself and Jughead, there was no telling where they would stand come their coronations. Something such as this had never been attempted as a fix before. The union between Betty and Archie had come only as an attempt to marry two neighbouring factions when one was in need (at least, Betty still assumed they were in need). No one seemed to have accounted for such variables as love and scandal, sending the whole plan into an unwinding spiral.

“It’s worth a try, right?” His thumb brushed gently against the skin of her neck as he searched the depths of her eyes for agreement. The movement was sweet and familiar, although Betty was surprised to find out that that was all. The action didn’t spark adrenaline through her veins, or churn acid in her stomach. It was simply a touch.

“I suppose so,” she relented finally. Archie’s cheeks widened with his familiar boyish grin and Betty couldn’t help but return it with her own soft smile.

“And I need you to know that I’m truly sorry for your… circumstances now. Just, my father became wary after Polly… and then when I met Veronica…” His voice faded out as he struggled to sum up the joyous emotions she could see springing to the surface. Betty cut him off, saving him the trouble.

“It’s alright, Archie. I understand.” Dark hair and stormy eyes floated before her vision, and Betty was struck with the notion that she might just understand a little more than she realised.

“If I’d known that they’d try to get you to marry a Serpent…” Archie’s face crumpled in distaste as the word left his tongue. Betty felt her shoulders straighten, her eyes narrow, his hands suddenly feeling more unwelcome on her body than they ever had before. She wanted to ask him what. What would he have done if he’d known? For all his amiable qualities, Archie Andrews had always had trouble controlling his need to satisfy his own desires first and foremost. The defensive question died on her lips as another voice filled the air.

“Betty?” The figure in the doorway startled her. She took a quick step away from Archie, his hands dropping from where they still rest on her shoulders. Jughead tread cautiously into the room, surely having heard the murmur of voices from out in the corridor.

“Jughead! G-good morning,” Betty stammered, every inch of her becoming flustered at his sudden appearance. He looked between the pair, trepidation colouring his features.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked, and Betty couldn’t decide if the sharp edge she could hear in his voice was real or imagined. She crossed the short distance between them, resting a delicate hand at his elbow in what she hoped was a reassuring gesture. Little touches like this had slowly slipped into their interactions, his hand on her lower back, brushing her hair away, hers on his forearm, or straightening the immaculate lapels of his jacket. There was an unfamiliar tingling sensation building up from the tips of her fingers as she watched him size up Archie cautiously. Having become quite well acquainted with the betraying signs of jealousy herself, in her few short years, the look Jughead was sending towards the redheaded prince before them had anticipation spiking in her veins.

“Of course not,” she replied, gesturing towards Archie demurely. “I don’t believe you’ve had a formal introduction. Jughead, this is Prince Archibald. Archie, I’d like you to meet my fiancé, Prince Forsythe Jones of the Serpent faction.” Betty’s voice was unwavering in her introductions, surprising herself. It was the first time she’d presented Jughead as hers. She couldn’t describe the sensations running through her body in that moment, perhaps only knowing that they were something akin to excitement. Being on Jughead’s arm made her feel powerful, dangerous even. It was as if a connection to him heightened her confidence in a way she’d never experienced before, being so used to derogatory dismissal. Betty realised with a start that his undesirable background didn’t frighten her anymore – it thrilled her.

“I know who he is,” Archie replied, rather rudely without a hint of the pleasantries they’d all had drilled into them as a requirement of being born inside castle walls. Out of the corner of her eye Betty caught the corner of Jughead’s mouth tilting up in a masterful smirk, clearly sensing how his presence riled up his opposition.

“Prince Archibald,” he greeted, bending minutely into a bow while never taking his eyes off the man eyeing him like dirt upon his boot. “I trust married life is treating you well.” Archie visibly bristled.

“Yes. Thank you,” he bit out, clasping his hands behind his back as he rose to his full height. Betty hadn’t noticed until now but Jughead was a few inches taller than Archie, though he was a collection of lean lines and willowy muscle, while Archie was built bulky and noticeable strong. However, caught between the standoff happening between the two men, Betty definitely noticed how imposing Jughead’s presence could truly be. Instead of making her recoil in fear, like it may have once done, she basked in it, looping her arm tightly around his, reminding him of her presence next to him as much as she was confirming her place at his side.

Jughead’s shoulders lost some of their tension at her affirming touch, his eyes finally breaking away from Archie’s to look down at her, a mixture of caution, concern and comfort waiting within their depths. Betty’s breath hitched as the full force of his expression, reserved for her only, washed over her. His forehead smoothed as she arranged her full lips into an enamoured smile.

“Betty, that’s not all,” Archie interrupted slowly, confusion pressing his lips into a hard line. Betty turned to address him, her expression clear. “When I was talking about our future, a-as allies,” he hastened to clarify. “It’s because, well, Veronica and I are expecting.”

Betty waited for the world to drop from beneath her feet. She stood, completely motionless, as she waited for the ground to rise up and meet her head. She waited for the hot sting of tears in her eyes and the sickening swoop of abandonment in her stomach, but nothing came. The bubbling waters of the fountains still filtered up through the open windows, the late morning sun rays remained slanting through and spilled across the plush, red pile of the paisley rugs covering the floor, and her breathing continued, slow and steady, as the seconds of apprehensive silence kept ticking by.

“Oh,” Betty heard herself saying when she finally found her voice through the surprise. “Congratulations, Archie,” she cheered warmly from her spot beside Jughead. She could sense the heat of his stare on her profile, checking for cracks in a façade she wasn’t even wearing anymore. Somewhere, without her noticing, Betty has slipped out from under Archie Andrew’s spell. “That’s such wonderful news. You’ll have to bring Princess Veronica to our ceremony if she is feeling well enough for the journey, so I can congratulate her in person.” Betty felt giddy upon her new realisation, unable to rein in the blinding grin she could feel herself sporting. Archie still looked nervous, eyes flickering between her and Jughead as the pieces clicked almost audibly into place for him.

“Err, yeah. Of course. Thank you, Betty,” he said softly, relief evident in his tone despite his confusion. Betty turned her face towards Jughead, the expression gracing his handsome features so soft that she struggled for air for a few moments. She knew it was a little ridiculous but she could have sworn he looked proud of her, and that notion settled with a comforting warmth in the pit of her stomach for the rest of the day.

***

“Princess Elizabeth, please concentrate,” the stern voice of her tutor reprimanded through her poorly stifled giggles. Jughead coughed indiscreetly, the corners of his mouth twitching as he supressed a smile, Betty’s own bypassing her half-hearted efforts until she had to cover the expression with a delicate hand. She snatched the paper frog that Jughead had folded from one of the sheets she’d supplied him with and had sent bouncing across the table with just a flick of his finger, trying to adopt her most intimidating stare.

The chastisement was becoming a regular occurrence from the old mistress within the walls of the Cooper’s library. Jughead, after her initial invitation, had begun attending Betty’s lessons frequently, much to Mistress Geraldine’s chagrin. While she found him to be an intelligent young man, and an avaricious reader, he was nothing but a distraction for the princess. Mischievous glances and quick-witted comments were thrown across the table at every opportunity, and although the aged woman was pleased for the young girl she had known since birth it was still her duty to get her to learn something.

Betty had the grace to look somewhat embarrassed by her actions, but the expression slipped again as soon as Jughead made a sardonic comment about how droll the ancient philosophers truly were. Mistress Geraldine closed the book before her with a decisive thud, throwing her wrinkled hands into the air in defeat.

“Alright, you’re dismissed for today,” she sighed, watching with subtle fondness as the couple rose from their chairs hastily and scurried towards the exit. “But if you’re not careful I shall ban him from all future lessons!” she called after them good-naturedly.

Betty and Jughead burst from the shady confines of the castle and into the warm sunlight with laughter still falling from their lips.

“She doesn’t like me,” Jughead stated as they fell into step beside one another. Betty rolled her eyes at him, knowing he wasn’t in the least offended by the assumption by the way his lips settled into a smirk.

“Oh, she does. She’s just used to more well-behaved students,” she teased. Jughead nudged her playfully with his elbow.

“What do you say to more riding lessons?” he suggested, eyes sparkling as he edged towards the path that led to the stables. “It’s a nice day for it,” he added, tipping his head back to let the sunlight wash over his face. Betty took the moment to look at the way his olive toned skin soaked up the beams, how it made the constellation of freckles across his cheeks more prominent, the rich chocolate tones in his dark hair coming alive. He really was beautiful. It took her a beat to realise she still hadn’t replied.

“Yes, I’d like that… but only if you humour me with another archery lesson afterwards.” Jughead let out an insincere groan, humour still evident in his movements. He hadn’t been as receptive to her skill lessons as she had to his, and their archery sessions would usually end up with Jughead having to scale whatever unsuspecting feature of the Cooper’s gardens he’d managed to lodge his arrows in while Betty giggled prettily behind him.

“You drive a hard bargain, Cooper,” he accused with narrowed eyes. Betty bit her lip, as she often did whenever he called her by her last name.

“It’s in my genes, have you met my mother?” she retorted dryly, revelling in the way Jughead threw his head back in laughter after staring at her for a beat. The creases from his usually sombre forehead shifted to around the corners of his eyes as he allowed her a rare glimpse at his entirely unguarded underbelly. He could tell her what he wanted about riding, but the feeling of creating a carefree Jughead with her words was all the rush she seemed to need.

When his guffaws had simmered down to light chuckles he shook his head fondly, murmuring under his breath, “Sometimes I wish I hadn’t.” Her fingertips brushed against his as their hands swung between them, and Betty’s mind couldn’t help but take her back to the unforgettable whispers of an overheard conversation.

“You met when you arrived here, didn’t you? That was the first time?” she probed, glancing towards him but returning her gaze to the floor before he could meet it. She could sense his confusion.

“Yes, she met us as the carriage,” the lilt in his response encouraging her to explain herself further. He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “What is it, Betty?”

She sighed, finding whatever it was she was looking for in Jughead’s eyes that made her speak. “Jughead, I think our parents–”

“Your Highness!” The shout startled them apart, Betty having not realised how close they had been leaning towards one another up until he dropped his hand and she took a fumbling step backwards. They turned towards the maid expectantly, taking in her heaving chest and pallid face. “Your mother has requested your presence, urgently,” the girl added, hastening back beneath the archway she’d appeared from.

Before she could think better of it Betty grabbed Jughead by the hand, lacing their fingers easily as she pulled him alongside her.

There was an eerie silence within the walls of her home as they walked brusquely in the direction of the maid. It didn’t mirror the one she had grown accustomed to throughout her childhood, but instead lay suffocating and ominous across her back as she tried to swallow her heart from where it had become lodged in her throat.

The maid didn’t hesitate before bursting through the doors to her parents’ private chambers – an act alarming enough in itself – and Betty caught a glimpse of the myriad of people waiting behind the thick oak, crowded around the limp form beneath the bedsheets. Her head spun, knees faltering as they tried to keep her weight from collapsing, fingers squeezing Jughead’s in a deathly grip. He pulled her towards him by placing his other hand on her waist, steady and reassuring.

“Betty, look at me. It’s alright. Whatever has happened, I’m here,” he promised firmly. His hand rubbed up and down her side in slow, soothing motions, and Betty tried to match her breathing to its pace, feeling her heartbeat slow but not lessen in intensity. Shaking legs carried her forwards and through the throng of people all attending to her father, as white as the sheets he lay on.

“Daddy,” she whispered, her voice sounding unfamiliar and choked. His head rolled at the sound of her speech, his lips attempting an exhausted smile in her vague direction. His skin was coated in a sheen of sweat, eyelashes fluttering rapidly against his sullen cheeks.

“Oh, Elizabeth,” her mother wailed, sounding far less composed than she’d ever seen her. She clutched at Betty’s arm as they both stared down at the most important man in their lives. “It was so sudden.”

“What’s wrong? Is he…?” She didn’t want to think about the ending of that sentence, let alone allow it to slip into the air, tangible and possible. Expecting to see a sadness that matched her own on Alice’s face, Betty looked up, only to lose her breath once more at the hardness waiting in the tightness around her eyes and the pinch of her lips. In the silence that followed, not even the birds dared chirp.

“Only time will tell,” the physician eventually told her, frowning. “I’m not yet sure what has caused this episode, I’ll have to conduct some further tests, but I’m afraid it may not be conclusive. If we could clear the room,” he said hesitantly, worried about incurring the wrath of the Queen, no doubt.

Alice backed away slowly, joints in her neck shifting as she set herself with an impenetrable coldness. “This family is cursed,” she spoke hauntingly. “Infused with an incurable venom.” Her last sentence was accompanied by a sharp look towards Jughead, glaciers in her eyes glinting like steel. Jughead’s head snapped towards her in shock, before his face blanked.

***

The King’s condition remained stable over the next few days, and while it did not worsen it also barely improved. He had managed to sit up, taken small amounts of food and water, and tucked Betty close to his side as she read her favourite passages to him throughout the afternoons, pressing his cold, dry lips to her forehead in an attempt at comfort that only made her shudder.

Her time with Jughead dwindled considerably, no matter how much more appealing the sensation of the wind combing through her hair as they rode together was suddenly becoming. In the evenings, though, she sought him out, in their courtyard by the library. He was always waiting. She sat beneath his arm in the shadows of the babbling fountain and pretended that her only concern was finding herself slowly falling in love with the man at her side.

In amongst all the chaos, her mother had still managed to schedule a fitting for her wedding dress with Master Kevin. Of all the things of import at this moment in time, Betty failed to see how this managed to climb so high on the list.

Instead of his usual light-hearted jokes and conversation, Kevin seemed distant and distracted. He had hardly tried to pry for any information about the budding relationship between her and Jughead, something that would have previously relieved Betty but now only concerned her.

“It’s a little early for all this, isn’t it? Why has my mother insisted on moving this fitting up so much?” she said, twisting her arms back and forth to examine the white lace pinned there. It was beautiful, it made her feel beautiful, and the creeping sensation of panic she expected to feel upon being sheathed in her bridal gown had failed to come, leaving only anticipation tingling in her gut. “Kevin?” He hadn’t answered her.

“Hmm?” he hummed, staring blankly for a moment before he blinked and seemed to shift back to himself. “Oh, well, yes. We wouldn’t want to upset your mother at a time like this,” he replied with a consoling tilt of his head. “And, after all, Rome wasn’t built in a day!” he quipped, attempting something more akin to his usual conversation.

“My wedding dress is going to be comparable to Rome?” Betty squeaked, eyeing the rolls of white chiffon bundled in the corner apprehensively. Kevin didn’t say anything. “What is the matter with you today? That’s the third time I’ve felt you almost stick me,” she grumbled, somewhat more irritably than she’d intended. He dropped his hands, rubbing one swiftly across his forehead.

“I’m sorry, Princess,” he sighed, turning his face towards her with genuinely apologetic eyes. “Everyone is just a little on edge at the minute, don’t you think? Joaquin said– ” He cut himself off suddenly, eyes widening.

“Joaquin? You mean Jughead’s servant?” Betty asked, eyebrows nestling together. Kevin nodded slowly, colour draining from his cheeks. “You’ve been speaking with him?” He nodded again, backing up into the edge of his work bench.

“We may have… met,” he supplied vaguely, unable to meet her eye. Betty knew about Kevin’s preferences in relationships, had promised to keep his secrets from the judgemental eyes of the people, especially in the court. But she also knew that most of them had secrets of their own they would hate to see the light of day. Kevin was her friend, and she’d do anything to protect him, if necessary. But right now, he was giving her pause.

“And?” she prompted. “What did he say? About what? My father?” She knew she was bombarding him with questions, but she couldn’t help it. Her mother’s face as she’d turned on Jughead that day in their chambers wouldn’t leave her mind’s eye, the hissing of a snake ringing in her ears. The fabric of her dress unexpectedly felt too tight against her, like a second skin she wished she could shed.

“Betty, please. I can’t say anything…” She had never seen Kevin look at such a loss; he looked painfully torn. “I know you love Jughead.” The statement caught her off guard, having never heard the words out loud before.

“Yes,” she whispered before she could even think, even question how he knew, her eyes watering beyond her control.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered back, blinking away his own tears.

“Why would–” A loud gathering of people passing outside halted their conversation, Ethel coming in a moment to say that her father had requested Betty’s presence by his side. When she turned back, Kevin was already rounding the corner.

***

King Forsythe had left the castle early that evening, citing important business in his faction that simply couldn’t go without his attention. Betty was supposed to accompany the Serpents back to their faction for her stay at Castle Fosse, but given the circumstances her protests were well-received. Jughead also refused to go.

“I’m going to stay with you, until your father recovers,” he murmured solemnly, finding her once his father’s carriage had left the grounds, cupping her cheeks in his hands and dropping his eyes to her level. The conviction in his promise made something in her chest flutter uncontrollably.

He didn’t tell her about the suspicious fuss FP had made upon learning of Jughead’s intentions. His desire to stay at Castle Aeris has sent the man into an unexpected fury which Jughead hadn’t stuck around long enough to learn the outcome of – he knew he was staying no matter the consequences.

“But what about Jellybean?” she asked quietly, hating the idea of him changing his mind and following them in their path, but having to check anyway. He knew his father was insistent on the little girl accompanying him home immediately. She didn’t miss his somewhat sharp intake of breath, the way his shoulders hunched.

“She’ll be alright,” he said, more for his own benefit than hers she suspected. Betty wanted to argue more, but she was so tired.

“Okay,” she consented, the word barely breaching the quite air around them amongst the stacks. He pulled her close and she gratefully tucked her face into the crook of his neck, shirt in her fist, breathing in the scent that lingered uniquely on his warm skin, a mix of spices she was unfamiliar with, but found utterly intoxicating nonetheless. His hand rubbed circles on the small of her back as the day began to slumber. “I’m glad it was you,” she breathed after some moments had passed.

“What?” She lifted her head reluctantly, praying her nerves held out.

“I’m glad it was you that I was betrothed to. That I’m going to marry,” she told him shyly, thankful that the evening’s darkness had already descended, neither of them having moved to light the lamps, shielding her from his perceptive eyes.

“Me too,” he replied, and she could hear the smile in his soft voice. “The thought of being away from you, for any length of time… It doesn’t seem conceivable anymore,” he confessed nervously. Betty liked how the open emotions looked on him, gaze darting to his parted lips quickly. His sentiment reminded her of something else, though.

“I got a letter from Polly today. She had a boy.” Betty’s voice was quivering as she played with Jughead’s long fingers. “I have a nephew, and I don’t know if I’ll get to meet him, if he’ll get to meet his grandfather. I just–” A sob burst out of her chest before she could stop it, Jughead hurrying to ply her with gentle hushes and consolations, stroking her hair back from the sticky trails her tears left down her cheeks. “How did all of this happen?” she cried.

Jughead seemed to consider something for a moment before speaking. “Do you know where Polly is living?” he asked, Betty’s head jolting back in surprise. She nodded.

“She sent me her address in one of her first letters,” she confirmed. Jughead stood and pulled her from their spot on the floor, tucked beneath the window seat.

“We’ll go to her. We’ll find her and bring her back to the castle.” Betty gasped at his outrageous plan, the certainty with which he spoke. “I’ve had a lot of practising getting in and out of places unseen, and Joaquin will help us.”

“But my mother…” she started to protest. Jughead spoke over her quickly.

“Surely even Alice Cooper will understand, given the circumstances.” Betty wasn’t sure that she would. She chewed her lower lip worriedly, the only thing stopping her fingers curling into the berth of her palms being his locked between them. He noticed the tension in the digits, turning over her hands before she could stop him.

Her old scars glowed silver in the moonlight pouring in from the large window and Betty tensed, watching him carefully. Slowly, as if approaching a spooked animal, Jughead brought the wounds to his lips, pressing them softly against the repaired skin, but with unmistakable purpose. When he looked back at her his eyes were burning.

“Betty, I know that we cannot fix everything the people before us have broken. But we can try and build something new, and I’ve never wanted anything more than to do that with you.” His gazed flickered between her face and her palms. “I don’t want anything to hurt you anymore, I want to do whatever I can to make it better,” he declared, voice breaking in the middle.

It only took her a second to take in his words before she leaned in and pressed her lips to his. It was nothing like her first kiss with Archie, she realised that that was exactly what that kiss had been – nothing. This kiss had a heat spreading throughout her every extremity, from the point they were connected right down to her toes. His breath filled her with a new lease of life as he gasped against her mouth. His hands grasped her waist, pulling her against the solid planes of his body as her fingers moved from his soft cheek to his hair, burying themselves in the dark locks. It wasn’t slow and unsure, as she expected their first kiss to be, tentatively testing out this relationship that was handed to them. It was hurried and desperate, his tongue quickly coming out to lick along the seam of her lips, asking for entrance. She willingly gave it to him, oxygen escaping her lungs as he stole it from her, tongue tangling together, dancing, as if time was running out faster than they could catch it.

He pulled away first, resting his forehead against hers as their chests heaved in unison. He let out an exhale with a hint of a disbelieving laugh to it, cheeks flushed, and she couldn’t help but grin at his innocent reaction to such a sinful kiss. It was enough to give her one last spark of confidence.

“Jughead…” A loud crash from the hallway halted her words. “What’s happening?” The doors burst open, Alice illuminated by the light spilling in from the hallway. Her eyes searched the room before falling on the couple.

“Elizabeth,” she said, her voice impossibly cold. “It’s your father. He’s dead.”