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cartoonfangirl1218 · 4 years ago

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Winner’s Curse Ch. 21

I’m back and the story’s back! Hope you enjoy. It’s the final countdown. Only 9 more chapters to go. Enjoy!

“I can’t believe you’re actually going through with this!” Calix hissed once his mother walked through the door.

Circe hastily finished closing the door, taking extra care to double check the locks on the marble doorway, though Calix suspected that was more for the sake of gathering her thoughts together than caution. As suspicious and paranoid villains could be, Coven members rarely tried to intrude in each other’s rooms or meddle in their business. Probably an ego thing, thinking the doings of others were beneath them.

Not that this was important to Calix right now.

They were on crunch time. In a week, less than a week considering the sun was already setting today, the Coven would invade Auradon. Wrecking long-awaited vengeance, and chaos on Auradonians. Auradonians, who, if we’re being honest, were too sheltered and pampered to know how to slap much less defend themselves. There would be blood if they didn’t stop it.

And his mom, his mom who never tried to drag people to “the other side” or cared who was the fairest, who was not vying to be the baddest of them all, was still going along with this.

“Calix, I told you, there’s no other option.” Circe faced him, elegantly strutting toward the nearest ottoman where she could talk to him face to face. Just like the old times, when she would give him romance advice or assure him he would not die from alcohol poisoning, but that’s what he got for trying to drink Bacchus under the table.

Only instead of maternal advice, the son was the one trying to steer his mother away from murder.

“Yes, there is an option.” Calix stressed the last words, mangling the velvet cushions under his grip. The only thing keeping him from taking one of the many statues of muscled Greek heroes and throwing it against the walls in frustration.

“You still have the option to do the right thing. Join us. King Ben will grant full pardon for being part of the original Coven. You’ll be considered a hero.”

“Hmph! You’re right. If I reformed, then they’ll completely forget my crimes.” Circe said sarcastically.

“Oh right, I did do that! I stopped turning men, idiots really, into animals. I found love, I raised a son, made a business and they still sent me here! I’m sorry but there’s no right option.” Circe’s face lost her bitter scowl for a moment, returning to the maternal gesture reserved for him. One that conveyed comfort but also firmness, “Not for me. Life’s just not fair.”

“But Mom….” Calix whined, cringing at how childish it was but also feeling the pit in his stomach grow. He felt helpless. He’d always been able to get his Mom to see his point of view. But that had been in small disputes like whether he should be allowed to go to Orpheus’ concert on a school night or not grounding him for fighting with one of his cousins and punching him in the face. Minor things really.

None of them dealing with Circe’s values or worldview or any of her decisions.

This time he was trying to fight her on something she actually cared about. And gods, he was losing. Or maybe his mom was as stubborn as Minos and he simply hadn’t noticed it before.

Either one boded badly for his friends.

“I’m sorry, koukla. Honestly I wished I had you before the Great Uniting. You would have been there during the fires and earthquakes and all that. The “Life’s not fair” wouldn’t be so surprising.” Circe gripped his hand, rubbing her fingers lovingly. But it was only jarring for Calix. It was like some surreal, sick joke that his Mom was acting like their disagreement was over a menial thing and not life or death. Good and Evil.

So Calix snatched his hand from his Mom’s grasp and squared his shoulders. Time to get tough because clearly he couldn’t rely on motherly love to just do what he wanted. He’d have to be rational. Play to her sense of self, and what she would get out of this.

“Athena help me.” He prayed.

“I know life is not fair already, Mom. You think I didn’t realize that when they shipped you here. Life is not fair. But what I don’t get is that you won’t consider leaving the Coven. You’re not like them, you don’t want to kill anyone.”

“No,” Circe sighed in admittence, slumping and conceding to him. A little bit but it was something. “I just want to turn King Adam into that Beast form he hates so much. Wait, no, no. A slug. If he becomes a beast, he has too much power to fight back.”

Calix stood up and began to pace around the room, tapping his chin as if in thought that he’d seen Socretes do during his lectures before zinging a student with some philosophical epiphany, “Really? You’re sticking with them, murderers and tyrannical narcissists for petty revenge.”

“Not petty! I’ve always been a reasonable person!” Circe yelled, selectively forgetitng the many exes she transformed because she got bored with them, “He is punishing me for my past mistakes. This damn Isle is “consequences for my actions.” Bastard! I’m giving him consequences for his actions, he’s going to be a slug!”

Calix nodded as if he understood how his Mom felt. Which he had at one point. But now, he was tired and slightly bruised and again, so so tired. He wanted this to be over. The mission. The spying on the Coven. This stupid repetitive fight.

“Mom, you’re not like them. We both know that. But other people don’t. Auradon will only remember you as one of the many evil Coven members. Not a reformed sorceress injustly sent here, trying to get back to her-”

His mom looked at him, a rush of emotions crossing her face in an instant. Understanding, thoughtfulness, concern, anger, resolve and firmness. “Enough, Calix, I made up my mind. I have nothing left. With the Coven, I get some sweet revenge. What do I get if I reform? A pardon while that hypocritical King Adam waits for a new mob requesting for “villains” to get shipped.”

Firmness and resolve were flush on her face. Firmness and resolve to stick with the Coven.

Calix breathed deeply, feeling an unwanted lump gather in his throat as he listened to his mom make possibly the biggest mistake of their lives.

And worse, that she felt she had to do this because she had nothing left.

Was he not there? He was something… someone who desperately wanted her back home. He wanted her so badly that his chest ached as another weight settled there. Couldn’t she see that? This mission, this seriousness and emotional honesty that he usually avoided most of his life, he was doing this because he wanted her back.

And she thought she had nothing.

He couldn’t hide the emotion in his voice though he did his best. “You have nothing left if you choose to help the good? You’d get to live in Greece again. With me, your son. But I guess I’m not worth… I’m not-you know, since you have “nothing left.”

He turn to walk out the room, barely remembering to walk out the room was to be exposed in the hallway for any of the Coven to jeer and question him. Who already distrusted his surprise presence. So he swerved onto the right where the mosaic of Hermes’ cadacus was like an arrow to the private bathroom. Not better but he wanted to be alone.

He breathed in the faint wisp of steam that pervaded the room. His mom’s paltry attempt to make the closet-sized space echo the bathhouses at home. It had the faint hint of rotten bananas, another reminder of the poverty and dirt of the Isle that everyone wanted to get away from.

He sat on the toilet, hugging his knees to his chest like he had when he was a little and peering through the keyhole at one of his mom’s parties. It was a perfect position for how he felt, like a little boy who could do nothing to change his world. Just stare through the keyhole in relative safety and wait to see what would happen next.

He was hidden and alone.

So alone as he could hear his mom’s footsteps as she walked, he could see a pause outside the door from the shadow that peeked from the floor. But she didn’t knock. She walked away, walked away to the other door into the hallway to do who knows what with the Coven.

Damn his mom with her ideas of being a cool free range parent. For once, he actually wanted one of those Auradon helicopter moms he heard about. Like FG, constantly getting into his business and not letting arguments go.

Could his mom not see the big picture?

While she was storming King Adam’s castle for her damn revenge, the rest of the Coven would be destroying the kingdom. People wouldn’t just get transformed into animals. Hades, that would be a blessing. People would get killed.

And how could she forget him? He was willing to fight for their mission, he knew that he would have to when he agreed to join Jordan, but did his Mom not realize if the Coven took over, they’d mark him for dead. They’d go behind her back and her claims of ��protection” to make sure he wouldn’t start any rebellions like he was doing now.

He glanced around the small room, desperate for something to numbly occupy his mind before he thought about something darker. His eyes landed on the cabinet.

Any Greek worth their sandals would carry some ouzo in their homes, and since he hadn’t since a wine rack in his mom’s museum-like room…...

Sweet Nike! There was a whole shelf of shot glasses with ouzo already poured into them. Circe must have needed it to deal with living in this dump and all the villains around her.

If there was anything that would help him with the awful weight on his chest, it would be this.

He lifted one shot glass to his lips and drank, relishing the sweet burning liqued that went down his throat as smoothly as a waterfall.

Then he took another glass, and he was about to reach for the third when a small, quiet voice reminded him that there was still a mission at stake. He had to report back to Uma and the others and give them the bad news that his mom would definitely not be helping them.

Normally, that reminder would have sent him to gulping down four more drinks but this time it stilled his hand.

Like he told his mother, there was a bigger picture at stake than just her revenge. There were bigger things at stake than his own feelings of sadness. He slowly closed the cabinet, leaning his head against the cool mirror. He tried to do the deep breathing and focus.

This was hard. Gods, it was hard, he had known that going in.

And okay, maybe he’d known that but hadn’t believed it until this moment.

He had thought it would be fun, just like another one of those adventures or a fairytale.

Auradon was built on fairytales and he had thought there would take the requisite two or three days, they fight a dragon or two and then they’d go home in victory and as a family.

But it’d been a month, they found out the villain’s grand plan but had no way to solve it and now, he was having personal issues with his mom.

This would be a good time for what Jordan dubbed, a deus ex machine or just in time denouncement.

“Life’s not fair.” That’s what his Mom said. Not just now, but several times. When his dad died, speared by an Arendellan fisherman’s net. Yet another thing Circe despised King Adam for, because those fishermen came from the King’s initiative for kingdoms to share their resources.

The Arendellans hadn’t been properly vetted, or simply hadn’t paid attention to the orientation that not all sirens were trying to siren-song them to their deaths. That some simply lounge around the oceans because it was literally their home.

He had learned that after he experienced his first time being dumped last year. Which honestly had been more of a shock than a devastation but still.

His mom being sent away had been the worst by far. This coming in a close second.

But in all the times, he learned that life was not fair. He also learned to deal with it and try to keep moving with his life. At one point there had been nothing he would have liked more to have stormed the castle and changed all the suspicious mobs into mice. That’s why he made friends with Morgaine Le Fey. She was the only one who understood the anger and pain he felt, and it felt good to share his revenge fantasies.

But that’s all they were. Fantasies. Rationally, he knew that would only prove their fears right.

Calix learned to adjust his attitude a bit after his mom left, trying his best to stay out of trouble now that his mother wouldn’t be able to bail him out of the dungeon. Also he was more aware of how people viewed him in light of his siren-sorcerer heritage. Where once he played up his casanova flirtatiousness, now he tried to moderate himself.

And he had been fine.

Part of his outgoingness was a purposefully middle finger to the Auradonian Magic Ban. He played up all the things the royals hated like awesome kinky sex, and lavish magic acts because what else could he do? He had no reason to go to a fancy school with the preppy royals. But he also couldn’t pursue a normal job since the magic that was part of him was forbidden.

So there was nothing to do but get into the dungeons a lot.

But in trying to curb himself into something more “acceptable,” it was annoying but also nice?

Sure, he had resented it at first, but it was also nice?

Not trying so hard to be so unflappable, to have a pick up line for every man and woman. Stop trying to hide the fact that occasionally he wanted to act like that romantic prince archtype who wrote poems and made sculptures for their beloved because sirens didn’t do that. To hide that he could be serious, that his feelings got hurt when someone, usually a satyr because satyrs are cranky assholes, crossed a line. Maybe it was adapting, maybe he was growing up?

He didn’t know, but he lifted his head from the mirror and the twitch in his hands to reach for another shotglass was gone.

It was time to man up and be serious. It sucked that his mom wasn’t going to help, but he still had a job to do to save Aurado. After all, maybe if they saved the Coven, KIng Ben would allow his mom back as a favor. Jordan was always saying he was a sweet pushover. Yeah, there was still a chance he could get his mom off the Isle. And then-

“Hey, Cal, how are you doing?” A warm breeze ruffled his hair in a show of pink smoke and there was Jordan leaning her chin in the crook of her neck like the most annoying yet heartstopping ghost ever.

Calix choked back a scream, losing his balance at the sight of another person in front of the mirror. This fall resulted in Calix hitting his head several times against the door in his ungraceful slide down the wall.

Probably looking more like a scandelized royal than a put together teenager with his hand clutching his heart, Calix gasped for his pulse to go back to normal.

“Fucking genies! Jordan, I told you, warn me before you pop up. Remember, you had that whole lesson about the importance of knocking before entering? It’s the same thing, I almost had a fucking heart attack!”

Jordan didn’t care, she simply raised an accusatory eyebrow, “Are you drinking?”

How the fuck did she always know that? Calix was sincerely starting to suspect that she planted a magic tracer on him. The number of times she popped when he was having a drink was too coincenidental. Or maybe he just drank all the time?

Whatever, it didn’t matter. He was a new, mature Calix now.

“Just a shot-” Calix held up a hand before Jordan could interrupt him, “Just a shot. But I stopped because we have bigger things to worry about like how my mom isn’t on our side.” Jordan slid down to sit next to him, “You stopped because I came in time, admit it.”

Calix rolled his eyes, “No, it wasn’t that. I stopped but I listened to the Jiminy Cricket that I finally released from the dungeons of my brain.”

Jordan put a hand on his, the serious anxious look that had become her normal expression the past month returned, “Calix, I know this thing with your mom is hard, but now is not the time to fall apart. Things will get better, I don’t know how, but I need you to promise me not to touch alcohol.”

Calix stared at Jordan, realizing that this wasn’t one of their usual banters. She really thought he was going to go on a binge, right at this moment.

Yes, Calix had done that before. The days after his father’s death for instance and his mom’s absence. But he hadn’t been on an high stakes mission then. It was just himself and his grief.

But to binge drink, when someone was depending on him. Never. She knew that. When they had a night on the town with Aziz, he had been the sober one. He refused the drinks his way because someone had to be the designated carpet flyer. And filmer of embarrassing drunken antics.

Though Jordan may have been too drunk to notice herself, his self-imposed maturity.

But did she really think that he’d fall apart at this moment when he managed to keep himself together for the past seven months. For the 4 weeks on this hellish Isle?

“Jordan, I am not on a bender.” Calix enunciated each word carefully, staring her straight in the eye so she could he was serious. A bit of an intimidating feat if Calix was being honest with himself. Not because it was Jordan, but because… well the only one he was serious or honest was with his mom. But there was a first time for everything.

“I am not drinking on this mission. The shot was a lapse but I know I’m on a bigger mission right now, so I stopped.” “But you never-”

“I used to. But I have matured. We all have matured if you haven’t noticed. The usual doesn’t apply here, so I promise you, I’m not going to drink my sorrows away. There is too much at stake.”

Jordan looked a bit freaked out by his proclamation because she was staring at him all wide-eyed, “But-are you sure? I don’t think you’re capable of-”

Calix clenched his jaw and glared. It was one thing for himself to be surprised at his maturity but it was kind of insulting that it was so hard for his best friend to comprehend. That apparently she thought he was “incapable” of change.

“Yes, I am. So are you going to insult me some more or would you like to carry on with important things like how are we going to pull this off without my mom’s extra power?”

Jordan closed her mouth, satisfactorily chastened. And then in another milestone of their first emotional talk, Jordan muttered under her breath, “Sorry.”

Eh, not really meaningful but it was enough.

“It’s fine.” Calix nudged her shoulder with his to show their was no real hard feelings.

Jordan didn’t look at him but leaned her head on his shoulder, “I’ve been messing up so much lately.”

Calix pursed his lips, not trusting himself to not say something that would send her in a mood. He’d seen her being all moody and mopy the last few days though he didn’t know the exact reason. She was probably regretting giving the leadership position to Uma (drunken decisions are rarely ones you enjoy the consequences of) but Calix thought she made a good choice. Uma was a bit stern and intimidating, but she knew she was doing and was more effective than Jordan could ever be.

He also sensed the tension between her and Aziz. Especially since that meant she was hanging around him more. Usually he wouldn’t mind that, but this was hanging out with an ulterior motive and he wasn’t going to get in the middle of whatever Agrabah sandstorm that was between them.

“Hey, you still have me. Besides, now we’re having that alone time talk that the heroes and sidekicks or the love interests have before they save the day. We can check that off our adventure list.” Jordan lifted her head from his shoulder to stare at him incredulously, “Wait whose the sidekick in the scenario?”

“You are, obviously! You’re the genie.” Calix said.

“Wha-but but-why can’t we be love interests?” Jordan protested. “We’re already friends with benefits. It’s too late for us.” Calix answered. “Well, I-”

There was a knock on the door, and a tentative, “Calix?” “I‘ll leave you to it, Uma says to report at 4 sharp.” Jordan whispered, and poofed away.

Calix opened the door, feeling more calm, “Yes, Mom?” Calix was swept into the warm arms of his mom, the smell of sea salt and roses sweeping over him as she hugged him tighter. Firm, steady, like she wasn’t going to let him go.

But she did, holding onto his shoulders, “I’m sorry, Calix. You’re right.”

“I am?” Calix asked, almost hitting himself in the head for questioning it instead of just celebrating.

“Yes, you’re right. I went to another meeting and I listened. I actually listened instead of envisioning what I would do with Beast.. And.. it’s stupid to say this. But they’re evil. Actually evil. It’s not just a “cross the border and destroy everything in sight” plan. They- they’re actually thorough. Mother Gothel and Evil Queen are using sorcery and the dwarf tunnels to get through to the castle. Nerissa and Maleficent are going to go in double dragon form and burn down the castle and corner the royal children in the basement. It’s just-I- I can’t ally myself with them.”

Circe’s eyes brimmed, “Especially when I have a son… I do want to come back to you. My revenge shouldn’t be before you.”

Calix nodded, pulling his mom in for another hug because gods knew they haven’t done this in a long time.

Now they had to report to the captain.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ “Any idea where that wench is now?” Harry snarled, slamming down a glass of rum so roughly that CJ could hear the crack of glass as well see as the spider-cracks on its side from her position behind the window curtains.

It was a cliche spot. So obvious that no one would think to look there, and that’s why CJ chose it.

After all, a true pirate and a true villain had to keep track of her competition.

After last night’s, in CJ’s opinion, humiliating talk with the mini Ak Coven or whatever they called themselves, it was clear that Lady Caine was not going to honor her word.

Well… Lady Caine hadn’t said that they wouldn’t use her plan to take over the Jolly Roger, in fact she had asked for CJ’s plan outlines, but…

CJ bristled at the way Caine had shoved her aside and wouldn’t let her speak in front of the group. As if she was an afterthought. A kiddie tagalong.

It was too familiar a feeling. It was like she was one of the Hook siblings again. The youngest one, the baby trying to play an adult’s game.

And after all she’d done, getting to Auradon on her own before Harriet or Harry, going to Neverland to retrieve James Hook’s compass, stealing and plundering across the Seven Seas…. Everyone still didn’t see her as a pirate in her own right.

By Davy Jones’ locker that was all going to change even if that was that was the last thing she did! Screw Lady Caine, supposed mother or not, she didn’t need anyone’s assistance. She didn’t want to be part of Lady Caine’s revenge on Beast plan.

All she wanted was to be on her ship, on her own with her infamy riding the waves.

She was going to plunder the Jolly Roger by herself.

So she snuck out of Hans and Staylan’s castle… Actually, disappointingly enough to CJ’s sense of showmanship, it was more like she walked out of the castle since no one cared where she went anyway.

And now she hid out in Captain Hook’s office behind the curtains in hopes of hearing of any plans or information that would be helpful to CJ’s future theft.

Unfortunately Hook was not the one using the office. Apparently he was blacked out in his bedroom.

Harriet and Harry were the ones in charge of Hook’s office. Harriet being the heir to the Jolly Roger.

CJ grinded her teeth, a stupid childhood habit that she thought she had outgrown. Along with her more obsessive pacing, a Hook trademark with their fear of ticking crocodiles. CJ bit her lip instead trying to curb her instincts but teh word “heir” just irritated her to no end.

Why should Harriet be the heir? Seriously!?!

Her sister was tough. One of the baddest, most intimidating Vks with her scarred eye, tattered eyepatch and half shaved head. Not to mention the numerous kraken-inspired tattoos running down her arms and neck. Yeah, she looked the part of a seafaring pirate.

But she didn’t do anything worth the name of piracy.

She inherited the crew from Captain Hook, an easy feat since they were spineless swabs, brainless and obedient.

They were sidekicks whose idiocy often hindered their looting runs than helped. Much like Smee was the clueless thorn that ruined most of Hook’s plans.

Besides, everyone knew that things stolen on the Isle were useless and valueless. The biggest treasure chest that Harriet ever stole was one of Captain Hook’s old buried treasures. The coins rusted over or chewed by sea mammals.

A rotting bone would have been more bright and shiny than that treasure.

And Harry….

Harry never bothered to fight for himself. He lowered the Hook name by acting as a little enforcer and first mate to that sea witch, Uma.

CJ couldn’t believe she once idolized them.

“Dun know. Don’t care.” Harriet rasped, wiping her lips, and rolling her eyes in that bored babysitter way that CJ and Harry seen their whole lives.

Harriet was a pirate without ambition. Yet another reason why she, Calista Jane Hook, should be the famous Hook of them all.

“The welp is scheming against us, how can you not care?” Harry growled

“Because it is just another game to her. She’ll get bored with the ship and go off again. You knwo her, obsesses with one thing and moves on. It doesn’t matter.”

CJ clenched her fist, her grinding teeth sounding obnoxiously loud in her head. Another game. Moves on. It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t matter.

She was still a kid to them. How can they not see how serious she was? Why couldn’t they once admit that she was a good pirate.

Why couldn’t they do that?

She knew they were capable of it. When they were younger, they didn’t hold to their Dad’s value that you couldnt say a nice thing about anyone but yourself. Or a particularly gorgeous jewel.

But they didn’t dismiss her like Dad. They acknowledged her quick thinking and even quicker fingers. Her strength in swinging on ropes for her piraty entrances.

Why couldn’t they do that now? It’s like they and the rest of the world grew up, but they didn’t think she did. She was still an inconsequential child. She didn’t matter.

And a thought… dark and unwelcome like the girl’s shadow creatures entered her mind.

Freddie’s warm, sultry smile and bright eyes looking at her with unbidden delight. The kind of smile that made CJ forget about the fresh sweet smell of sea kelp calling to her or golden treasures blinding her eyes. The smile that made her want to fall into Freddie’s dark spell and nimble fingers until she forgot what light was.

The same, curving lips telling her that she wasn’t worth it. That Freddie would rather stay in Auradon than sail the seas with her. That she’d rather change herself so she could be a goody goodie among the luxuries of Auradon than be with her. That’d she’d rather be like Mal and those other traitors than be with her.

Cj bit her lip harder, trying to find one thought any thought that would distract her from the memory that was threatening to make her sink to her knees.

Freddie Faciliar, for all that CJ tried to distance herself from the shadow girl, relegating her to sidekick, to simply a best friend and occasional lover… Freddie was one treasurer she had had that she loved most of all.

And even Freddie rejected her.

What was it? With all her skills and ambition that no one would take her seriously? That no one respected or wanted her enough to listen.

Freddie’s green eyes flashed once more in her mind, fading and fading much like Freddie herself from CJ’s life.

No one wanted to stay with her.

CJ grinded her teeth again, a small spark of pride and fury flaring up in her despite the limited amount of movement she could without being caught. Anger was better than weakness or sadness. She had to focus on that.

Her time would come.

The day of the invasion, when everyone was distracted, she would take her rightful place alongside Ching Shih and Captain Hook as a pirate for the history books.

She would take that sword mounted on Captain Hook’s wall and use it for herself. She’d make this brainless, spineless crew walk the plank. She’d cut the ropes and sail through the barrier.

She’d kill anyone who got in her way.

And if that person was her sibling, so be it. Then they’d take her seriously.

After all, a pirate needed to be ruthless and backstabbing to be the best.

Because that was who she was. The best pirate the Isle and Auradon had ever seen.

#calix #circe #disney descendants #winner’s curse #chapter twenty one #cj hook #harriet hook #harry hook #my fanfic #my fanfiction #ocs

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kurokoros · 6 years ago

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darling, dearest, dead | part two

Title: darling, dearest, dead

Rated: M (language, violence, sex, character death)

Words: 21K

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Jones!OC

Summary: Sweet Pea stares at her for a moment longer, fingers curling at his sides, as if he wants to touch her but knows he can’t. Not really, anyway. “You’re going to have to let me go,” he says, so much softer than she’s ever heard him before. His throat bobs with a harsh swallow, his dark eyes locking with hers. “You have to let me go, Sweetheart.”

She shakes her head, eyes squeezing shut tightly. Her throat goes tight, eyes itching and rimmed red. “I can’t,” she tells him. Fingers ghost against her cheek, close and cold and coaxing her to look at him again, and when she finally opens her eyes Sweet Pea smiles down at her, a broken little thing.

AKA: The Orpheus and Eurydice Retelling no one asked for.

Chapters: One | Interlude One | Two | Interlude Two | Three

Chapter Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2zYQDvZGYpW6b24nKFORh0 (copy/past because tumblr sucks)

AN: This fic has been over a month in the making and I’m so excited to finally be sharing it with everyone! This fic is also available over on AO3 (link removed because tumblr sucks) if that will be easier to read! This is a long chapter, so settle down somewhere and get comfortable!

There’s blood on her. On her hands, the ring on her finger, covering the front of her shirt and sticking to her skin. It’s soaked into the snow, almost black in the darkness, barely illuminated by the flashing blue and red lights casting a bright glow over the park. Something heavy and warm is wrapped around her shoulders, but she doesn’t react, numb to the people moving around her and the body sprawled across the snow.

Fingers curl around the leather of his jacket. He’s cold. Her lips form his name, but all that leaves her is a fragile and broken wheeze.

Jubilee is dead weight as a firm grip curls around her upper arm, hoisting her up, hands pulling her from the snow. She goes along willingly, worn leather slipping from between her fingers. Her legs tremble as she’s forced to stand, and suddenly she’s airborne, jostled as an arm slips beneath her knees.

Her head lolls against a shoulder, but her eyes don’t leave him, even as she’s carried to a car, a hand on her head trying to block her from looking—from having to see the unrecognizable mess of blood and leather crumpled into a heap in the snow. Jubilee looks anyway.

She knows that he’s gone even before the sheet covers his face.

There’s still blood on her. On her clothes, beneath her fingernails, staining the delicate knotting etched into her ring, so deep she doesn’t think it will ever come out. Jubilee stares down at the dry, flaking stains on the silver, darker now than they were before. She tries not to think of it, warm under her fingers as she tried to staunch the bleeding, but it was too much, too many broken bones, and by the time she crawled to him she couldn’t be sure he was even breathing anymore.

Her ears ring, a high whine like white noise, and she barely reacts as she’s pushed and pulled, passed from one to the next and shoved into a hard, plastic chair that digs into her spine. She sits there for a long time, just staring at her hands, rubbed raw to remove the blood half-frozen to her fingers.

The ringing in her ears only grows louder as she’s left to herself, the hallway milling with people.

“Jubilee.” Her head snaps up as sound returns, the roaring in her ears dulling to nothing as a weight settles on her knee. Her wild gaze shifts, meeting familiar, concerned eyes. Tom Keller crouches before her, gaze leveling with hers, and Jubilee’s eyes follow him slowly, watching but not seeing. “Hey there, Kid,” he says, even though she’s twenty-three and he’s known her all his life. The concern in his eyes is palpable, thick and honest, and it chokes her, smoke in her lungs.

She curls up tighter in the chair, a slow, shaky breath slipping from her lips. “Sheriff Keller,” she murmurs back, honey-colored eyes searching his for something, anything, and there’s an apology there that makes her eyes start to burn once again. Her hands tremble as she wraps her arms around herself, nails digging into the blanket draped around her shoulders.

Sheriff Keller’s hand moves from her knee to her shoulder, holding her steady as she begins to shake, her gaze going watery as she turns back to her hands and the blood still stuck beneath her fingernails, bright against her pale skin.

“You’re okay,” Keller tells her, low and even, practiced, and she wonders how many times he’s done this before. “Look at me.” He squeezes her shoulder and her gaze snaps back to his, Jubilee unaware that she was wandering. “You’re okay,” he repeats.

Her lips quiver as she takes a deep breath. “Sweet Pea,” she manages to choke out, his name practically a whimper. The sob that rips straight from her chest leaves her feeling hollow inside, something missing.

“I know this is hard,” he starts slowly sympathetic, “but is there anything you can tell me about what happened tonight?” The questions makes her stomach flip, bile rising in her throat, but she swallows it back, a shiver wracking her body. “Anything at all?”

“I don’t…” She wants to say she doesn’t remember, that it all happened so fast, but that’s not true. She remembers too much. The crunch of the snow beneath her knees, the sick squelching sound each time Ezekiel hit him, the smell of cigarette smoke in the air. She remembers the smile Sweet Pea tried to send her, the look in his eyes, his mouth on hers just minutes earlier, whispering that he’s the happiest bastard in the world.

Jubilee wishes she could forget, that she could close her eyes and wake up and he’d be right there, snoring beside her and stealing all of the blankets.

She’s quiet for too long, gaze far away, and Sheriff Keller frowns, sighing as he nudges her shoulder again to gain her attention, trying to keep her focused on him. “Jubilee,” he snaps at her gently, voice rising just a tick, but it’s enough to make her jump. The Ghoulies’ cackling still ringing in her ears.

Exhaling shakily through her nose, Jubilee squeezes her eyes shut, tears slipping down her cheeks. “They came out of nowhere,” she tells his, so quiet he almost doesn’t hear her. “We were just…” Jubilee opens her eyes again, shaking her head as a broken noise slips from her mouth. “We weren’t supposed to be there. We were going to go home.” Something caught between a sob and a bitter laugh tears from her. “We were supposed to go home,” Jubilee repeats, softer than before.

They never should have gone out that night. They should have never seen the stars.

The numbness washes away in a great wave, and it all hits her at once. He’s dead. Sweet Pea is dead. He’s not coming home tonight. Something snaps inside her, a damn breaking, and when she starts to sob, great heaving sounds, her entire body quivering, she’s not sure how to make it stop.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re okay,” he keeps repeating, hushing her, but it’s a lie and they both know it. Because it’s not okay. None of this is okay. And Jubilee can barely force herself to breathe even as Sheriff Keller tells her too, voice low in her ear, hands rubbing up and down her arms, stiff and half-frozen. “I know this is hard,” he continues, “but if there’s anything you can tell me to help me find who did this…”

“I—” She chokes off, shaking her head before burying her face in her hands. The blanket slips from around her shoulders, pooling at her waist.

Sheriff Keller doesn’t miss a beat. “Did you recognize any of them?”

Jubilee’s breath catches. Her throat constricts even tighter. She thinks of the malice in Ezekiel’s eyes, the pragmatic tone in his voice, the justification. An opportunity like this, he called them. Something he couldn’t pass up, like their lives were nothing more than a small victory in the ongoing war between the Serpents and Ghoulies. Wrong place. Wrong time. And he just wouldn’t stop—he wouldn’t stop hitting him, even when she begged him too. Even if it made her a coward, she would have done anything to make him stop.

Her hands drop into her lap, eyes locking with Sheriff Keller’s, Ezekiel’s name on the tip of her tongue—

There’s a commotion down the hallway, shouting, and her gaze drifts to the side, away from Keller’s. He follows her gaze, squeezing her shoulder, and they watch as FP Jones shoulders his way into the station, shoving away the hands of a deputy trying to hold him back, a wild look in his eyes. Jughead is close behind him and he catches sight of her before FP, blue eyes wide in horror as he sees her there, curled up in a chair looking smaller than he’s ever seen her before, bloodstains on her clothes, her eyes rimmed in red. Jughead grabs FP’s arm, mouth moving rapidly, and whatever he says must catch their father’s attention because FP’s gaze snaps to her, softening from a hostile rage.

Sighing, the Sheriff turns back to her, expression imploring, and her expression goes steely, eyes still on her family hurrying towards her, leather jackets standing out against the off-white walls of the station, the angry snake on their backs a warning to everyone in the room.

Sheriff Keller’s justice isn’t the kind she wants.

“Jubilee,” Jughead murmurs as he reaches her side, immediately engulfing her in a hug that’s practically suffocating as Sheriff Keller rises and steps to the side, guiding FP a few feet away to talk. Her name is tinged with relief and Jughead’s arms squeeze around her like a vice. She collapses into him, allowing him to be the only thing holding her steady, keeping her together. Fingers clenching in the leather on his back, Jubilee buries her face against his chest, entire body wracking with a sudden sob that’s barely muffled by his jacket. He only grips her tighter, one hand cradling the back of her head as he holds her to his chest.

Jughead doesn’t say anything else, only rocks the two of them as she sobs, the adrenaline gone and exhaustion settling in its place.

“I want to go home, Jug,” Jubilee whispers, trembling. “Please, take me home.”

Something cold has settled into her bones, an iciness creeping down her spine since they left the Sheriff Station, the dull ache of exhaustion making her feel heavy, a weight on her chest and on her shoulders. Her head throbs and her eyes itch, blood-shot and puffy. Jubilee curls up tighter on the old pull-out couch in her father’s house, the same one that’s been there for as long as she can remember, with frayed edges and cigarette burns.

Her fingers pluck at a loose thread in the fabric absentmindedly, nails wiggling the strand further and further free, like she wants the whole thing to unravel around her. And maybe she does. Jubilee’s eyes slip shut, her head dropping sideways onto the back of the couch, a slow exhale falling heavy from her chest. Her toes dig into the cushion beneath her, cold and bare, the rough tweed scratching against her skin and making it crawl.

She thinks someone might have tried speaking to her, a low voice murmuring from somewhere in the room, but she ignored it, the words slipping around her like water, nothing but a dull hum in her ears. She doesn’t know how long it’s been since. Hours. Maybe less. Hard to tell with February’s pervasive darkness, the night all-encompassing.

Jughead and FP keep checking in on her, briefly, just to make sure she’s still curled into the couch and trying to make herself small. She hasn’t moved though, save for the twitch of her fingers and the slow, shallow rise and fall of her chest, so slight it would be easy to miss. They don’t try to talk to her, not anymore, not when they know she won’t answer them, lost somewhere inside her head they can’t quite get to. Their voices are a low hush in the other room, harsh whispers being passed between the pair of them, quiet enough for her to ignore the words but not the tone, the two of them spitting at each other, and then something softer, sadder with no replies.

FP curses from the other room, a loud fuck and the sound of smashing glass ringing sharply through the trailer. Jughead flinches, but Jubilee doesn’t.

The silence settles in after that, like a thick smog, choking them all as it curls through their lungs.

FP calls a council. It’s the only thing he can do. A few of the older Serpents filter into the trailer, solemn with a restless fury about them, a snake in still waters. They try to keep their voices down as they speak, but it’s not easy in such a small space, their voices carrying. People Jubilee has known her entire life look at her with pity in their eyes, like she’s some broken thing, and she just goes back to staring at the wall, refusing to return the looks.

The life of a Serpent is hard, the men more than likely to end up dead or detained, rotting away in some cell while their families are left behind. It’s why her mom left, why so many marriages on the Southside end in divorce. No one wants to see their partner behind bars or rushed away in a body bag.

Jubilee never expected it to happen to—

She sucks in a sharp breath, eyes squeezing shut tightly. An arm curls tightly around her, leather and motor oil making her choke. Fangs’ grip around her only tightens, Jubilee half in his lap as he strokes her hair, whispering nonsense into her ear as she trembles, voice hoarse as he stumbles over the words. He arrived with Toni and Joaquin not long before the other Serpents, all bursting into the trailer, frantic gazes searching the room, almost like they didn’t quite believe it until they saw Jubilee, small and shivering on the couch.

Toni and Fangs immediately settled on the couch on either side of her when they saw her like that, almost protective in the way they curled around her, Toni’s grip on her desperate and Fangs’ hands shaking, like he wasn’t sure where to put them before grabbing both her and Toni into a bone crushing embrace, even as he shook right along with them, rocking them both. Joaquin lingered near the door, swaying slightly on his feet as it hit him, and he swore under his breath as Jughead came to stand beside him, the two not saying a word.

The older Serpents surrounding FP grow louder, angrier, and she stiffens, fingers squeezing around Toni’s. Each voice makes the sick twisting in her stomach grow worse, a churning in her gut threatening to spill out.

“What did the cops—”

“—couldn’t even recognize him.”

“What did they—”

“—baseball bat—”

“—beaten that badly?”

“Ghoulies.”

Fangs soothes her as a soft whine slips from the back of her throat. It goes unnoticed to the other Serpents, the small sound swallowed up as their voices grow with anger, a cacophony of sound swelling in the room with nowhere else to go, threatening to burst.

“How the fuck did this happen?” one of them snaps, not bothering to keep his voice down. Toni’s nails dig into the back of her hand. A slow, shaking breath leaves Fangs, and Jubilee tries to ignore the wetness sliding down her skin from where his cheek is pressed against the crown of her head. His hand smooths up her back to cradle the back of her neck, keeping her tucked against his chest protectively.

FP sighs, running a hand through his unkempt hair, a frustrated sound pulling from the back of his throat. “I don’t know,” he finally tells them, the other Serpents quieting at the sharpness in his tone. “Police don’t know anything yet. Keller said it’s too soon.”

The group goes quiet, the four men falling into silence. It’s only then that Jubilee is able to put names to them, her eyes opening just long enough to catch a small glimpse of the men standing against the far wall, her father’s back to her. Jubilee recognizes Hog Eye first, the bartender rubbing at the scruff on his face in thought, a nervous tick that she’s come to recognize in all the years she’s known him. Dutch and Hawk are on either side of him, friends of her father’s for longer than Jubilee has been alive and Serpents for just as long.

Hawk heaves a sigh, arms crossing over his chest as he glances at Jubilee over FP’s shoulder, staring for a long second before nodding in her direction. “Have you asked…” he trails off before finishing, a grim look on his face.

Joaquin and Jughead both stiffen where they rest against the wall, listening to the older men talk, but not participating themselves, and Fangs’ hand stills on the back of her head, his entire body going rigid. Toni’s nails did harder into the back of her hand before suddenly going slack.

FP’s shoulders go stiff, his back straightening, muscles tensing beneath his jacket. He doesn’t say a word, back still to Jubilee as the other three men begin to speak again.

“You want to ask her?” Dutch whispers, a harsh note to the words. His gaze flicks to Jubilee for only a moment, taking in her still frame squeezed between Fangs and Toni. He turns back to Hawk just as quickly, sheer disbelief in his eyes.

Hog Eye shakes his head, exhaling lowly, and Hawk’s jaw clenches tightly, his hands curling into tight fists. “We don’t have much of a choice,” he reminds the other men, defensive but apologetic.

For a long moment, nothing happens. The three Serpents turn to FP expectantly, waiting for an answer, waiting for him to take the lead. Joaquin leans further against the wall, crossing his arms, a muscle in his jaw popping as he grits his teeth. Beside him, Jughead runs a hand through his dark hair, beanie long since been tossed aside. He pushes off the wall, taking a step towards the Serpent King. “Dad,” he murmurs, shaking his head. The implication is clear. Not now. Not like this.

But FP sighs, eyes squeezing shut tightly, and he only hesitates a moment before turning his back on the other Serpents, footsteps heavy as he crosses the room, crouching when he reaches the couch. Fangs catches his gaze briefly, eyes red-rimmed from crying, traces of anger lingering in his russet eyes, and FP has to look away, clearing his throat harshly.

“Hey, Sweetheart,” he murmurs, placing a hand on Jubilee’s knee, giving her a soft squeeze. Her gaze slides to his hesitantly, her honey eyes weary and reluctant, but she looks at him anyway, eyes glossy though she doesn’t cry. FP’s shoulders slump, the life seeming to leave him as he looks up at his daughter.

Jubilee’s eyes slip shut briefly, her shoulders slumping before they open again, locking on his. She seems to wake up as she looks at him, some of the stillness slipping away. “Dad,” she murmurs back, the first thing she’s said in what must be hours, since they left the Sheriff’s Station. Her voice breaks, cracking on the single word, and he winces, something like shame in his eyes.

He exhales slowly through his nose, one hand rubbing at his jaw. “You gotta tell me what happened, Jubilee,” he says slowly, fingers squeezing around her knee again, almost placating. She inhales sharply, shaking her head as she tenses, curling closer in on herself. Her throat goes tight, her eyes squeezing shut. “Hey,” he continues, “I know this is hard, but we have to know.”

“I—” she starts, choking off just as quickly and shifting away from his touch. She doesn’t want to think about it, doesn’t want to say it out loud, because that makes it real. And more than anything, she just wants to wake up.

“Jubilee—” he tries again.

Joaquin cuts him off, shoving away from the wall to take a step towards the pair of them. “FP,” he starts, suddenly loud in the quiet of the room, drawing everyone’s attention. “Leave her alone.” There’s something in his tone that’s almost a warning, low and rough, and the Serpent King straightens, body tensing as he stands from his crouched position by Jubilee’s side.

“You think we have time for this, Joaquin?” he asks, exasperated as he stares at the younger Serpent. He clenches his jaw, rage flashing in his eyes, but Joaquin only glares back at him.

Shaking his head, Joaquin nods over FP’s shoulder to Jubilee. “This isn’t going to help,” he says quietly, ton low. “Not right now. Not when she’s like this.” Joaquin has always been close to Jubilee, friends even before she was truly part of the gang, keeping an eye on her, keeping her out of trouble. He’s as much of a brother to her as Jughead.

FP only sighs, a short, bitter bark of a laugh escaping him as the tension in the room rises, everyone on edge, uneasy as the Serpent King’s eyes narrow dangerously. “We need to know.”

“It can wait,” Joaquin argues back.

“Sweet Pea is dead!” FP snaps suddenly, the entire room flinching with the reminder, the first time any of them have said it aloud. A hush follows the affirmation. The older Serpents go silent, gazes dropping to the ground. Jughead winces and Joaquin takes a step back. A choked sob slips from between Toni’s lips. Fangs physically flinches away from FP, taking Jubilee with him. But she doesn’t move. “He’s dead,” FP repeats, softer this time. “It’s not going to get any easier until we know.”

“Ezekiel.” FP and Joaquin both turn, looking down at Jubilee in surprise. Her shoulders slump, entire body going slack as she leans further into Fangs, exhaustion weighing down on her body. Toni reaches for her again, their fingers lacing together. Jubilee sighs, eyes slipping shut for a moment. “It was Ezekiel,” she tells them again.

Her statements hangs heavy in the air, none of the other Serpents making a sound.

It’s Hawk who speaks up first. “Malachai’s brother?” he asks, a slight sneer to the question.

Dutch swears under his breath and looks away, his eyes squeezing shut, hands trembling.

“What the hell happened?” Hog Eye asks her, a softness to the question she’s never heard from him before.

Jubilee sighs, staring down as her hand laced with Toni’s. The other girl hiccups softly, tears streaking down her face, and Jubilee winces. “We were at the park,” she says, a pit forming in her stomach. “We didn’t—” she chokes off, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves. “The Ghoulies came out of nowhere.”

FP stares down at her, swallowing back the lump in his throat. “How many?”

“Six. Seven.” Jubilee shrugs, resting her head back against Fang’s shoulder, her free hand finding his and squeezing. “Too many.” She wets her lips, chewing the inside of her cheek as she thinks back to what happened earlier in the night, about everything he told them. She sniffs. “Ezekiel said one of his boys went missing after ‘fucking some Serpent whore,’ ” Jubilee repeats. Fangs tenses behind her and Toni flinches, at the insult or implication she doesn’t know. Jubilee continues before any of them can say anything. “They found his body outside of Centerville,” her red eyes cut to FP, “but I’m guessing you already know about that.”

Nothing happens on the Southside without the Serpent King finding out.

FP winces, something like an apology flashing in his eyes.

“What is she talking about?” Jughead turns to his father, paling as the words register, the meaning clear. He shoves away from the wall, crossing the room quickly, stopping just before reaching his father. “What the hell did you do?” The Serpents have a code. They don’t kill people, not unless they deserve it, not unless they need to. Any slight against the Ghoulies would only lead to retaliation and more blood. More violence.

“It was business,” is all FP tells them, hand raking through his hair and squeezing his eyes shut. “God dammit.”

“Jesus Christ,” Dutch murmurs.

Behind her, Fangs shifts. “What are we going to do?” Jubilee glances at him over her shoulder. Fangs swallows, a shaky sound leaving him as he looks up, tears still running down his face. “FP, what are we going to do?”

He only shakes his head.

“Did he kill that Ghoulie?” Jubilee asks FP after the older Serpents have gone and the others have fallen asleep, grief leaving them hollow and exhausted.

Jughead looks up at them from his spot at the counter, eyes bloodshot. He hasn’t cried. Jubilee doesn’t think he’ll let himself. He and Sweet Pea were never quite friends, not exactly. They tolerated each other, respected each other, but aside from the Serpents and Jubilee they never had much in common.

She turns to face her father more directly, in shadow as the first rays of light spill through the crack in the blinds. “Did Sweets kill him?” FP doesn’t answer, just sighs and sends her a look she can’t quite read. Jughead turns back to his hands and Jubilee closes her eyes, heart aching in her chest.

Time moves slowly over the next few days, a crawl, everything hazy. Jubilee meets with Mei Hua to discuss funeral arraignments, even though they won’t bury him until spring. Her stomach flips at the thought of him frozen away in some box until the earth is warm again, spring chasing away the chill of winter with new life. They’re strangely numb as they talk about it, like it hasn’t quite hit them yet that he’s gone. That he’s not coming back.

There’s a hollow feeling in her chest, a quiet bitterness settling in place of where her heart is supposed to be. Jubilee keeps going through the motions of waking up, heart sinking further in her chest each time she realizes it isn’t just a bad dream.

It’s two days after that night in the park when she finally pulls herself out of bed, half-awake and still groggy in the haziness of the morning. And she forgets. Jubilee forgets until she goes to take a drink and her coffee mug is empty. She forgets until she doesn’t feel his arms around her, holding her tight to his chest as his grinning mouth presses to her temple.

A cold hand wraps around her heart and squeezes, choking her.

The mug splinters into pieces when it hits the wall.

Jubilee runs a frustrated hand through her dark hair, trying to keep her fingers from shaking as she hurries through the trailer park, jacket pulled tight around her frame and scarf practically suffocating her. Her throat feels tight and her eyes burn, but she blames it on the wind. The snow crunches beneath her boots.

Stiffening, Jubilee comes to a halt when she sees someone standing in her doorway, huddled against the wind. The coiled snake on the back of their leather jacket makes her inhale sharply, heart hurting, but she ignores the sting, steeling herself. Jubilee forces herself to move, crossing the short distance to her door, feet dragging. The figure looks up as she comes closer, raising a hand in greeting, and she frowns at the familiar face, not wanting to talk to anyone at the moment.

He doesn’t say a word as she walks up the steps of the porch, and Jubilee doesn’t look at him, fighting back the tightening in her throat. “What are you doing here, Joaquin?” she asks him, fishing her keys out of her pocket, fingers numb. She never used to lock the door. Most people know better than to break into a Serpent’s home right in the middle of their territory, but now that she’s alone…

Joaquin watches as she struggles with the keys, but stays quiet for a long moment, pulling his leather jacket tighter around his shoulders, eyes drifting from her to the sheet covered motorcycle sitting in the yard, untouched since the weather became bad. He clears his throat, turning back to her as she finally gets the door unlocked. “I thought I’d come see how you were doing. I was in the neighborhood.” It’s a half-joke, but the concern is still there, and her shoulders stiffen.

“Did my dad send you?” Jubilee glances up at him, hoping the bitterness hasn’t seeped into her tone. It wouldn’t be unlike him to send one of his boys around to check on her. She’s seen Isaac and Dexy hanging around recently, keeping an eye on her, as if she doesn’t notice them there. Joaquin’s gaze avoids hers and Jubilee squeezes her eyes shut, sighing before shoving the door open. “Come on,” she mumbles to him, leaving the door open behind her as she steps inside.

Joaquin follows after her, shutting the door gently behind him. Jubilee slips off her shoes, moving further into the house, and Joaquin follows her with his eyes, the weight of them heavy on her back as he tries to gauge her reactions. He follows her slowly, hovering just outside of the kitchen and frowning as she pulls two glasses and a bottle of scotch from one of the cabinets. “How are you feeling?” he asks her slowly, eyes narrowing at the bottle in her hands.

Jubilee scoffs, a short, bitter laugh slipping past her lips as she pours two shots. “Two days ago I was planning my wedding and now I’m planning a funeral,” she remarks casually, setting the scotch down a little too hard. “How the fuck do you think I’m feeling?” It’s unfair, her snapping at Joaquin like that, and she regrets it as soon as the words leave her mouth, but she’s so sick of people asking how she is when she can’t even breathe without the ache in her chest getting worse, bigger, like it might just swallow her up. She sighs, rubbing at her eyes. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Don’t,” Joaquin cuts her off, shaking his head as he steps further into the kitchen. “You don’t need to apologize to me,” he tells her softly. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

Shaking her head, Jubilee places her hands on the countertop, eyes apologetic. “Joaquin,” she tries again, but stops when he sends her a look. They’ve been friends for long enough to let things slide. She shuts her mouth, settling her elbows against the counter and taking one of the glasses, swirling the scotch absentmindedly as her eyes slip shut, Jubilee trying to ignore the weight of his gaze on the side of her face.

He stares at her for a moment longer, letting the silence overtake them for a handful of heavy seconds, watching as she lifts her glass but doesn’t take a drink. Jubilee suddenly looks exhausted as she leans against the counter, running her free hand through her tangled hair. Joaquin wets his lips. “You’ve been crying,” he states, not bothering with edging around the topic.

She sighs at the observation, wishing her eyes weren’t so red. “Yeah.”

“What happened?” he asks, lifting the glass of scotch she slides to him from across the counter.

Jubilee lets out a short laugh, no humor to it and sniffs as she stares down at her glass. “Mei Hua and I,” she starts, swallowing down the lump in her throat, “we had that meeting with the funeral director this morning.” Joaquin places his glass back on the counter, realization flickering in his eyes. She smiles bitterly, eyes growing glossy. “They recommended a closed casket,” she tells him softly, shaky voice barely a whisper.

Joaquin winces. “Fuck.” He rubs his hand down the side of his face, shaking his head in disbelief. His expression turns sympathetic as he looks at her, tears welling in her eyes. “Jubilee, I—”

“I knew,” she tells him, another breathy laugh slipping from her lips before she smiles at him, a sad, broken little thing. “I knew how bad it was. I just thought…” Jubilee shakes her head, not bothering to stop the tears spilling over. She doesn’t know what she thought. Maybe she was only hoping for a miracle. That maybe the last time she saw him wouldn’t be that night. She sucks in a sharp breath, turning back to Joaquin. “That’s not how I want to remember him, you know?”

“Then don’t,” Joaquin tells her, reaching across the counter to grasp her hand, giving her a gentle squeeze. Jubilee frowns back at him. “Just remember how much he loves you,” she winces at the present tense, flinching away from him, but he holds on tight, “remember how happy he was when you said yes to marrying him.” He huffs out a laugh. “God, he couldn’t shut up about it. I’ve never seen him as happy as he was that day at the bar.”

Jubilee traces the rim of her glass, eyes slipping shut. “I just want this to be over,” she tells him, downing the scotch.

There’s a vase of sweet peas at the front of the room, two-dozen of them, pale pink and twined together with baby’s breath and forget-me-nots, the petals soft as they spill over the rim of the dark vase. There’s something poetic about it, a deep bitter irony that makes her stomach twist sickly the longer she stares at the flowers.

Sweet peas and baby’s breath are what they would have had at their wedding, a kind of joke between them, because he always used to bring her sweet peas on their anniversary.

Her throat tightens the longer she looks at the flowers and Jubilee forces herself to look away, gaze sliding to the framed picture of him resting beside the table, but that only makes the burning in the back of her eyes grow worse. It’s a good picture, one Toni took where he’s smiling a big genuine smile, a crinkle at the corners of his eyes, so different from the permanent scowl he wore when they were younger. He’s staring over his right shoulder, the inky lines of his Serpent tattoo on display, the light around him making everything soft, something ethereal about him.

She remembers when Toni snapped that picture last fall. They’d gone camping, the three of them, with Fangs and Joaquin and Toni’s girlfriend, Natalia. It was spur of the moment, the thrill of the Harvest Moon in their veins as they ventured into Fox Forest. It was morning, just after sunrise, and they were listening to Fangs tell some story she can’t quite remember as they hiked along the rocky quarry leading down to Crystal Lake. Jubilee said something, a joke mocking Fangs, and Sweet Pea turned to her with that smile, his entire face lit up with absolute joy.

It was only luck that Toni got the picture. She was ahead of them with Natalia and Joaquin, waiting for the rest of them to catch up, but she caught the picture anyway, and it’s always been Jubilee’s favorite.

Now she wishes she hadn’t picked it.

Her eyes follow the familial lines of his face, mapping his features, wishing she could remember him like that, smiling. None of the fear or the blood from that night.

A cold numbness settles somewhere in her chest and she has to look away from the picture, eyes squeezing shut tightly as friends and family and people she hardly knows mingle around her, dressed in black and speaking in hushed voices.

Jubilee doesn’t look at the closed casket to her right.

Her head hurts. A dull pain spreading from behind her eyes through the rest of her head until her entire body aches with it. They’ve been worse than usual lately, her headaches. From the constant crying or maybe because Sweet Pea isn’t there with his hand on the back of her neck, whispering sweet things in her ear as he kneads at her skin, chasing the pain away. She can feel him there on her neck, breath hot on her skin, a memory or a ghost.

More than anything else, Jubilee is tired. Tired of people smiling at her and telling her things will be okay, that they understand how hard all of this must be for her. She’s sick of people touching her, hands on her shoulder or elbow, as if she might break if they don’t hold her together.

She’d rather they just let her fall apart.

Someone comes up beside her, as she turns back to the flowers, gaze far away. For a long moment, they don’t say a word, merely stand there, staring at the sweet peas and shifting their weight from one hip to the other, restless. The room is claustrophobic, too many bodies, and the flash of leather Serpent jackets in the corner of her eyes causes a heavy weight to settle on her chest.

“They’re pretty,” they comment, startling her out of her blank stare, and Jubilee glances to the side, catching sight of a familiar face she hasn’t seen much of since high school. Reggie Mantle stares at the flowers she was previously looking at, both hands in the pockets of his dark slacks. He doesn’t look at her, and that’s just as well.

They were never friends. Not really anyway. She never ran in the same circles as people like Reggie Mantle and he and Sweet Pea never got along, always at each other’s throats. Jubilee got along better with his girlfriend Lydia, but she isn’t with him today. For a moment, she frowns at him, unsure why he’s here, but this is Riverdale, and no one ever misses a funeral.

Jubilee stares at him for a moment longer before her eyes slide back to the flowers, unable to look away from them for long, as cold fingers wrap around her heart and squeeze, pulling her back in.

“Goodbye,” she tells him. Reggie glances down at her, eyes narrowing in bemusement. Jubilee meets his eyes for a second, gesturing to the flowers spilling out of the vase. “Sweet peas,” she elaborates, a bitter tinge to her voice, “they mean goodbye. Departure.” She swallows down the lump in her throat, arms curling around herself slowly. “Thank you for the lovely time and adieu.”

Reggie turns back to the flowers, clearing his throat as the bitter irony of their meaning registers. “So why’d you pick them?” he asks and Jubilee wants to say that it’s obvious. Sweet peas have always been important to her. The flowers were something of a joke between them. He used to leave single stocks of them in her locker from his mom’s shop before they ever got together, because they made her smile. It was always sweet peas.

It was always Sweet Pea.

And she should have known better than to think they’d ever get a happy ending in a town as fucked up as Riverdale.

Jubilee sighs, eyes squeezing shut tightly, and for a moment she can pretend she’s somewhere else, somewhere better, but the weight of Reggie’s gaze on the side of her face keeps her grounded, and when she opens her eyes again nothing has changed.

“He, uh, he brought me some on our first date.” A bittersweet smile curls at her lips. “He was being cheeky.” Sweet Pea always was a troublemaker in some of the best ways.

Reggie chuckles lightly, shaking his head. “Sounds like him.”

“Yeah.” Jubilee breathes out a laugh. “They were pink and white,” she continues absentmindedly, playing with the ring on her finger. “He got them from his mom’s shop one afternoon while I working and left them on the counter for me.” Reggie snorts and her smile widens a fraction, fondness swelling in her chest. “He took me to the Drive-In the night it reopened because they were playing one of my favorite movies.”

“The Breakfast Club.” She glances up at him, finding Reggie already looking at her. “He didn’t stop talking about that night for weeks,” he tells her, laughing a little. “How pretty you were. How you looked under the moonlight.” Jubilee rolls her eyes but Reggie holds up his hands. “I’m being serious! Dude was always a sap for you.” Snorting, Reggie turns back to the flowers and the framed picture beside them. “Man, he was already halfway in love with you before you even started dating. Honestly, I’m surprised he didn’t marry you sooner.”

Jubilee stiffens, fingers stilling on her ring as her eyes widen. Her throat goes tight, mouth dry and tongue heavy. Reggie seems to realize what he’s said only a moment later, his shoulders going tense as he turns to her, expression more apologetic than she’s ever seen him. “Shit—I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay,” she cuts him off quickly, a slight crack in her words, and Reggie winces, shame in his eyes. Jubilee clears her throat, forcing a smile. “Really, Reggie, it’s okay,” she tries to reassure him, wishing she could make herself sound more convincing.

Reggie’s eyes tear away from hers and he shifts from one leg to the other. “I fucking hate these things,” he murmurs suddenly, and Jubilee snorts in agreement.

Riverdale has had plenty of funerals over the last ten years, ever since Jason Blossom was murdered to satiate a beast that Clifford Blossom called upon. There have been blood sacrifices, strings of murders and suicides, so much death in one little town, but they never seem to get any easier.

Reggie’s hand slips into the inner pocket of his coat as he fishes out a small, steel flask and unscrews the top, glancing around them to make sure no one is watching before taking a swig. He surprises Jubilee by offering it to her next.

“Whiskey?” she asks him, glancing between him and the flask with a raised brow.

“Vodka.”

She gabs the flask and takes a quick swig, wincing as the alcohol burns at her throat. “Thanks, Mantle.”

Reggie doesn’t say another word, only takes the flask after she takes another long drink and passes it back. He doesn’t touch her, doesn’t tell her everything will be okay when it won’t, and only sends her a halfhearted nod before he disappears back into the crowd.

The visitation stretches on, people filtering around the room, offering sympathies she doesn’t want until her head starts to pound, a migraine setting in. Briefly, she wonders how Mei Hua is handling things, but Jubilee hasn’t seen her since before the visitation started, while the two of them were setting up with Jughead and Betty’s help. The older woman didn’t say much, a far away look in her eyes as she muttered something in Mandarin that Jubilee didn’t catch, looking just as lost as Jubilee felt.

But that was over an hour ago, and Jubilee hasn’t had the heart to go looking for her.

Forcing a smile, she nods along with what the man in front of her is saying. He’s from the Toledo chapter, a representative her mother sent in her place, neither Gladys or JB able to make it to the funeral due to business. Something bitter settled into her heart when she was told they wouldn’t be there, and Jubilee understands it, she does, but that doesn’t make it any easier. It doesn’t make it hurt less.

The Toledo representative reaches out and Jubilee tries not to flinch as his fingers curl around her shoulder and squeeze in a way that’s meant to be reassuring. He lingers just a little too long, grip a little too tight, and her smile slips just the slightest before she pulls from his grasp, taking a step back. Jubilee murmurs a quiet apology, excusing herself before slipping away. The older Serpent lets her go without another word, disappearing into the sea of dark leather jackets in search of someone else to talk to.

By now her headache has only grown worse, tears burning at her eyes as her entire body throbs, but she ignores it as best she can, slipping away from the room long enough to down two Tylenol before coming straight back, knowing she can’t be away for long.

With her eyes squeezed shut briefly, Jubilee takes a deep breath before slipping back into the main room. She catches Jughead’s eye from across the room and forces a halfhearted smile that he returns with a shaky one of his own from where he stands with Archie Andrews and Betty Cooper. He sends her a look, a silent question there, asking if she needs him, but Jubilee only shakes her head.

She’s fine. She’s going to be just fine.

“Jubilee!” Her eyes rip away from Jughead at the sound of her name, her tense smile slipping into something more genuine when she recognizes the person calling out to her.

“Toni,” she greets softly, arms opening automatically as Toni worms through the crowded room, dragging her girlfriend Natalia behind her, both dressed in black, looking more put together than Jubilee feels. They reach her side quickly, and Toni latches onto her immediately, locking her in a fierce grip that almost puts Jubilee back together. She grips Toni back just as tightly, fingers clenching around Toni’s dark jacket, clinging to the shorter girl. Toni’s arms squeeze around her tight, one hand rubbing Jubilee’s back as she rocks the two of them.

A ragged breath tears from Jubilee as she drops her head to rest against Toni’s, the tears she’s been trying to hold back all day finally bubbling up to the surface, a whimper crawling out of her throat. Gently, Toni hushes her, cooing nonsense in her ear as Jubilee sinks further into her embrace, allowing herself to cry for the first time today, body quivering.

When Jubilee finally pulls back, Toni’s eyes are red and wet.

“How are you holdin’ up, Girly?” Toni asks her, fingers lacing through Jubilee’s as she takes a small step back, Natalia coming up beside her.

Jubilee squeezes Toni’s hand once before gently pulling away, arms curling around herself. “I’m okay,” she says, glancing between them. “Better than—it’s just…” She trails off, glancing down at the silver ring on her finger that suddenly feels much too cold against her skin. “It’s just a lot,” Jubilee tells them, shrugging slightly.

It’s too much too fast. She was barely getting used to calling him her fiancé, and then… And she’s trying, she’s trying so hard to be okay, but for the first time in over a decade you keeps looking over her shoulder and he isn’t there. She keeps expecting to wake up, open her eyes and see him there, but it doesn’t happen. It hasn’t quite registered yet, that he isn’t coming back. Jubilee feels like she’s in a free fall, just waiting to hit the ground but she just keeps falling instead, holding her breath.

The look in Toni’s eyes is too heavy and Jubilee has to look away, practically choking on the emotion welling up inside her. “Are you still coming to the Wyrm after this?” Toni fiddles with the sleeve of her jacket, and Natalia wraps an arm around her, pulling Toni flush against her side.

Jubilee squeezes her eyes shut, exhaling heavily through her nose and fighting back a curse. She forgot about the memorial being held by the Serpents tonight, the Southside mourning the loss of their fallen Serpent King, their family. Jughead mentioned it to her vaguely the other day, but she was too wrapped up in planning with Mei Hua to think much of it.

A part of her wants to say no, that she’d rather be home, because she’s not sure she can deal with the crowd, with people asking if she’s okay, but it’s only right that she goes. Jubilee is a Serpent by blood, a Jones, and more than that she’s always been Sweet Pea’s girl, even before it was ever official.

And a crowded bar surrounded by her extended family and whiskey is better than going home to an empty house. She’d rather be where people live.

“Yeah,” she finally tells Toni, gaze sliding back to the other girl. “I might be a little late because of…” She gestures around the room, shrugging slightly as her hand falls back to her side. The get-together at the Wyrm is supposed to start around six if she remembers correctly, but she has no idea how long it might take get everything settled here.

Toni shakes her head, a sad smile on her lips. “Don’t worry about it.” Again, she takes Jubilee’s hand in hers, squeezing tightly. “Everyone will understand.” Her smile slips, gaze sweeping around the room, and her voice lowers as she leans in closer. “What about Mei Hua?” Toni asks gently, still searching the room for the older woman.

Sighing, Jubilee grips Toni’s hand tighter. “I asked, but she just wants to be alone tonight.” And Jubilee can’t blame her for that. A piece of her might be missing with Sweet Pea gone, but Mei Hua lost the only family she had left. “Have either of you seen Fangs yet?” she asks, clearing her throat.

“No,” Toni tells her, softer than before. “I don’t know if he’s coming.” Taking her lip between her teeth, Toni crosses her arms, leaning further into Natalia’s side, the shorter brunette squeezing her waist. “You know how they were,” she tacks on lowly, and Jubilee sighs, running her fingers through her hair.

Fangs and Sweet Pea were practically inseparable, ever since they were kids, causing trouble wherever they went. Fangs took it just as hard as Jubilee did. After that first night he was a mess, drinking at the Wyrm for hours, not speaking to anyone, starting fights with whoever tried to cut him off. Jubilee hasn’t seen him all week, no one has, but hearing it from Toni only makes the worried knot in her stomach tighten.

Toni’s hand on her arm brings Jubilee back. Again, the couple shares a look, and Toni takes a deep breath before she sends a small smile to Jubilee. “We actually have something for you,” she says, turning to Natalia.

The shorter brunette wets her lips, shifting slightly before meeting Jubilee’s gaze. Natalia clears her throat, taking a step forward. “A couple of weeks ago, Sweet Pea asked me to make something,” she starts slowly, Jubilee frowning in confusion. While they both always loved Natalia’s work, neither had much interest in purchasing ceramics. The boys tended to roughhouse too much for them to own fragile art. “I don’t really know what it is, but he was supposed to pick it tonight. He wanted it ready for Valentine’s Day.” Natalia breaks their gaze, reaching for the bag looped over her shoulder. “I thought you might want it anyway.”

Natalia pulls a box out of her bag, plain with Sweet Pea’s name scribbled across the top in Nat’s messy scrawl, the familiar curves of the letters making her look away. Gingerly, Jubilee takes the box, frown deepening at how weightless it feels in her hands, but Natalia merely gestures for her to open it. She does, hesitating only a moment before unfolding the cardboard flaps, hand delving inside, feeling past the pieces of foam meant to protect what’s inside. What her fingers come in contact with is smooth, cold to the touch as she lifts it from the box, Natalia taking it back from her shaky hands.

It’s a bauble, a red ball made of glass small enough to rest in the palm of her hand, with delicate swirling gold vines and flowers curling all around the smooth surface, intricately woven through the deep burgundy glass. It’s hollow inside, and when it catches the light she can just barely see something coiled inside. Jubilee cradles it close to her, chest constricting as she realizes what it is.

“It has a piece of twine inside,” Natalia tells her, sending her a small, sad smile as Jubilee’s hands begin to tremble, “all knotted together. He said that part was important.”

A shaky sound spills from her, Jubilee’s eyes squeezing shut tight as the bauble suddenly feels so much heavier in her hands. “It’s part of the Old Religion,” she tells them, forcing her eyes open again as she traces a finger down one of the swirls of gold. “There’s a tradition… to give a bauble housing your heart and soul to your lover to keep in their home.” A breathy sound caught halfway between a laugh and a sob rips from her chest. “He was going to be away in March on business with the Toledo chapter.” Her eyes start to burn again, something swelling inside her, and Jubilee shakes her head, stepping away from them. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, gasping, “I can’t—I have to go.”

Her hand clenches so tightly around the bauble that for a moment she fears it might break, but the glass ball holds firm beneath her touch as she backs away from Toni and Natalia, entire body trembling as her throat tightens until she can hardly breathe. Toni reaches for her, concern swirling in her wide eyes, but Jubilee stumbles out of her reach. It’s like a blow to the chest, the bauble, that he was going to give his heart and soul to her, that he thought she would always keep them safe.

And now it’s too late.

“Jubilee?”

She ignores the calls of her name, slipping through the crowd of people, uncaring as she knows into others in her haste to get away. The room is too small. There’s too many people. She can’t breathe. Someone catches her by the elbow, yanking her back around. Blue eyes lock with hers, her brother’s gaze swimming with concern. Another sob bubbles out of her, her fingers tightening around the bauble. Jughead’s gaze flicks to the object in her hands, grip going slack as he recognizes it, and Jubilee rips away from him, slipping from the room before he can stop her.

Jubilee curls in on herself, sinking down onto the front steps of the building, dark hair falling around her face in a tangled mess. She runs a trembling hand through her hair, fingers catching in knots. The glass freezes in her hands. The cold February air bites through her, her coat still inside, Jubilee vulnerable to the wind, but it’s only a persisting, bitter numbness that washes over her as she squeezes her eyes shut, unable to contain the deep, heaving gasps ripping straight from her chest.

The shaking in her hands gets worse with the cold, the bauble nearly slipping from her fingers before she draws it closer, curving around it protectively. Her knees are drawn to her chest, Jubilee rocking slowly against the steps.

She barely feels it as something warm settles around her shoulders, a familiar weight that she would recognize anywhere. It’s the smell that she notices first, and her heart aches because of it.

If she closes her eyes and breathes in the scent of leather and motor oil she can almost forget that the last week was real, that that night was real, that he’s gone. But it isn’t Sweet Pea’s jacket draped around her shivering frame, and it isn’t Sweet Pea that settles on the steps beside her, arm curling around her shoulders and holding her tight to his side. It’s not cinnamon and wood smoke that floods her lungs, no matter how badly she wishes it was. She’s pulled close against Fangs, his grip around her tight as he drops down beside her and tucks her against his chest, letting her curl into him as she cradles the bauble to her breast.

Jubilee goes into his arms willingly, latching on tightly as his arm squeezes around her, one of his hands rubbing against her arm to chase away the cold. He doesn’t say anything for a long time, only holds her until she quiets, rocking them both. Fang’s head drops down to rest against hers and his body shakes just as much as hers, and she breaks.

“I couldn’t,” Jubilee gasps, “I couldn’t do it,” she tells him, murmuring nonsense as he strokes her hair, whispering a lullaby in Spanish against her ear. The words are lost on her as she sobs, looking so much smaller beneath his jacket than she’s ever been before, the leather swallowing her up. She’s not even sure what she’s saying, everything just spilling out there on the steps of the Riverdale Funeral Home, everything she didn’t say before, everything she wishes she said, it all just comes tumbling out.

It’s not until just now, on the steps with Sweet Pea’s heart in her hands and Fangs shaking against her that the free fall stops.

They sit like that for a long time, desperately clinging to one another. No one comes looking for them, and if they do, they simply leave them to their grief, even as the memorial inside begins. Neither Jubilee nor Fangs move to stand, too exhausted and numb to do anything but lean against one another. Fangs plays with a coil of her hair, winding it around his fingers because he needs to do something with his hands so they don’t start shaking.

Eventually, Jubilee finds the energy to speak, body going slack against his side. “You should go inside,” she tells him, the words sounding far away, voice cracking as her eyes slip shut. A quivering breath slips from her mouth, breath fogging in the air. She’s known Fangs long enough to know he would never forgive himself for not saying goodbye, but he doesn’t pull away from her embrace.

Fangs brushes her hair away from her face, grip only tightening around her. “I promised,” he murmurs, and she almost doesn’t hear him. He sniffs, squeezing her arm, suddenly louder than before. “I promised if anything ever happened to him I’d—”

“Don’t,” she cuts him off just as quietly, curling the bauble closer to her chest. “Please, just don’t.”

They both miss the memorial service.

Sinking into the bar-stool, Jubilee throws back another shot. The alcohol burns down her throat but she only sighs, settling further onto her seat, the bustling of the Wyrm a dull hum in her ears. It’s late, most of the Serpents have been here for hours now, drinking and sharing old stories about Sweet Pea, but Jubilee hasn’t wanted any part of it. The other Serpents have left her alone so far, giving her a wide berth after she disappeared from the memorial earlier in the afternoon. No one has said anything about it, not yet, but the wary stares of some of the Serpents burn against her back, everyone keeping a close eye on her, unsure what she might do.

She traces the rim of her glass with a finger, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. Hog Eye raises a brow from further down the bar, silently asking if she wants another shot, but she waves him off, shaking her head as her fingers tap the side of the shot glass. She needs to slow down. As much as she’d like to forget for one night, she knows better than that. Jubilee has watched so many Serpents turn to alcohol, drinking away their problems until it all comes crashing down on them. She watched it happen to her father, her uncles, so many people, and as much as she hurts now, she knows that’s not who she wants to be.

She exhales slowly through her nose, eyes slipping shut as laughter breaks out on the other side of the room. Her lips quirk up slightly, Jubilee only guessing what they might be talking about. Sweet Pea was always a character, always causing trouble, especially when they were teenagers. They all got into so much mischief back then, enough to give the older Serpents like her father and Dutch grey hairs.

“Jubilee.”

Her eyes snap open, head twisting around as she tenses, only to relax again when she sees a pair of familiar faces. “Hey, you two,” she murmurs back to them, fiddling with the shot glass again.

Two younger Serpents, Isaac and Dexy shuffle awkwardly in place, avoiding her gaze, eyes bloodshot from crying, and Jubilee softens at the sight of them, a gentle smile pulling at her lips. They’ve been Serpents for a few years now, both recently turning seventeen. They were under Sweet Pea’s guidance back when they new to the gang, the pair of them causing just as much trouble as Sweets and Fangs used to when they were kids. Sweet Pea always had his hands full with them and Isaac and Dexy practically idolized him, following him around wherever he went, always trying to help. And as much as sweet Pea used to gripe about it, Jubilee knows he was just as fond of them, taking the role of an older sibling in stride.

Sweet Pea didn’t have many people to look up to when he was growing up, but he made damn sure to make time for the younger Serpents whenever they needed him.

The pair exchange a brief look and Isaac runs a hand through his dark, messy curls, looking paler than usual beside Dexy, who picks at the sleeve of his leather jacket, dark skin flushed. Jubilee spins the shot glass in her hand, bemused as she waits for them to speak. Isaac shuffles again, hands behind his back, and Dexy takes a deep breath. “We, uh, we have something. For you. We wanted to give you something…” he trails off awkwardly and Jubilee bites back a grin at their flustered expressions. Dexy clears his throat, nudging Isaac. “Here.”

Isaac thrusts out a hand towards her, a dark mass in his grip. Jubilee frowns slightly in confusion, but takes the object anyway, leaning over on her stool to pull it close. Her entire body goes rigid as she realizes what it is. The smell hits her first, cinnamon and wood smoke, something spicy that she would recognize anywhere, the scent engraved in the leather after all the years he wore it.

Jubilee chokes up as she brings the old jacket close to her, fingers clenching tightly around the aged leather. She didn’t know what happened to it after that night. She was given his things by the Sheriff, his keys and wallet, the dog tags he always wore, but not his clothes, not his jacket.

Her hands shake as she pulls it close to her chest.

Stepping away from her, Isaac rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “We tried to get the bloodstains out but—”

Dexy’s elbow slams into his ribs and Isaac yelps, wincing. “Shut the fuck up, Isaac,” Dexy hisses through his teeth, sending his friend a nasty glare that Isaac returns, rubbing at his side with a huff.

Jubilee inhales sharply, breathing in the scent of him as her eyes water, a thickness growing in her throat. A wheezing sound slips from her and the boys stop glaring at one another, eyes wide as they look back at her in concern.

“Shit,” Isaac murmurs, wincing again when he sees the look on her face, the way her fingers tremble just the slightest. Shame flashes in his eyes. “Jubilee, we didn’t—”

“Thank you,” she cuts him off softly, eyes slipping shut as she lets the cinnamon scent wash over her, her body relaxing against the stool. A tear slips from her as she opens her eyes with a watery, breathy-laugh. She looks up at the boys again, the concern in their eyes raw, something nervous there. “Really,” Jubilee tells them, cradling the leather jacket close to her, “thank you.”

Neither boy has the time to respond as Fangs returns to her side, only leaving earlier to talk with Joaquin about something outside, a smoke break even though the two of them quit years ago.

“Hey, Jubilee, you ready to—” He stops when he sees the tears in her eyes, expression immediately going steely as he whirls on Isaac and Dexy. “What the fuck did you two do?” he snarls. The younger Serpents both flinch, not used to Fangs raising his voice at them like that. He’s always been the calm one, the goofy Serpent that smiles too much and used to participate in their high school’s musical theater program.

Most people don’t know that Fangs has a temper when it comes to his family. He’d do anything to keep them safe.

Isaac shrinks back under Fangs glare, stumbling into Dexy. “We didn’t—”

Fangs doesn’t let him finish. “Christ, hasn’t she fucking dealt with enough today?” Fangs snaps, drawing the attention of some of the nearby Serpents, voice loud in the semi-hushed bar.

He moves to take a step towards them, but stills when Jubilee’s fingers curl around the sleeve of his jacket, grip firm but gentle. “Fangs, stop,” she tells him lowly. He tenses, glancing down at her over his shoulders, concerned eyes searching hers. “It’s fine. They didn’t mean any harm they just…” she trails off, a sad smile forming on her mouth as she holds the jacket tighter to her, Fangs noticing it for the first time.

His eyes widen as he realizes whose it is, expression softening, and he turns to face her fully, one hand coming up to cup her cheek, Fangs’ thumb brushing a stray tear away from her eye. He ducks down to press a quick kiss to her temple and she sighs, leaning into him.

“Are you ready to go?” he whispers, one hand rubbing her back between her shoulders, anger gone just as quickly as it came.

Jubilee nods and he pulls away from her. “Yeah, just give me a minute?” Fangs hums his agreement, settling onto the bar-stool next to her as she turns back to the two boys, both still eyeing Fangs warily. “Isaac, Dexy.” Their eyes snap towards her and Jubilee’s expression hardens. “I have a job for you.” She taps two fingers on the bar when she catches Hog Eye’s eye again, requesting one more shot before she goes. The younger Serpents nod enthusiastically, always eager to take on a request.

“Of course.”

“What do you want us to do?”

A part of her feels bad for asking them this now, a seed of guilt planted in them by Fangs, but she knows that she can trust them to do what she asks.

It’s been quiet on the Southside all week, the Serpents grieving and the Ghoulies hiding away in their holes in the walls, waiting. There should have been a meeting by now between FP and Malachai. Not only was a Serpent murdered, it was on their own territory, and peace with the Ghoulies was already tense, practically nonexistent. And she’s done waiting for her father or Malachai to make the first move.

“Ezekiel,” she tells them, a tight-lipped smile curling at her mouth, a nasty edge to it. Both boys flinch at the name and on the barstool beside her Fangs tenses, jaw clenching tightly as he shoots her a look out of the corner of his eye. Jubilee ignores it, lifting the shot glass that Hog Eye slides to her from down the bar. “I want to know if he’s celebrating tonight.” Ignoring their stunned looks, Jubilee throws back the drink and slides from the stool, folding the jacket over her arm delicately.

Fangs curses behind her, mumbling something to the boys she doesn’t catch before hurrying after her, Jubilee’s heels clicking loudly across the floor.

If the Ghoulies want war, they’ve got it.

Jubilee keeps his heart in a box, the glass too fragile to be kept anywhere but locked away. The wooden box is tucked into the back corner of their closet, beneath a wool blanket that Jubilee’s grandmother made years ago. The inside is lined in dark velvet, the bauble cradled gently in the swath of fabric. She takes it out more than she’d ever admit, holding it close to her when no one else is around, at night when it’s too quiet in the house. She’s used to his breath on the back of her neck, his body shifting beside hers, always restless.

It keeps her awake at night, the stillness in the room. It’s worse when she does sleep. In that hazy moment just as the sunlight is spilling in at dawn she can feel him there against her back, warm hands on her skin, lips on her neck, the echo of a breath stirring her hair. And then she wakes up and it all falls away. A memory. A ghost. And it makes her skin itch, something sick swirling in her stomach.

So she keeps his heart close, the warmth of it pressed against her chest in the darkest stretch of he night, a dull pulse coming from inside, almost a heartbeat, but not quite. But it’s enough. It’s enough to know she has his heart, even if she doesn’t have her own.

She never knew where he kept hers. It’s been missing since that night. Jubilee has looked, but it’s nowhere in the house, and she doesn’t know where else he would keep it.

There’s a myth she’s heard, a whisper from the others like her, that the glass hearts will break, that that they’ll shatter and turn to dust. A bauble can only be given once and never taken back. It’s something sacred to the Old Religion, a promise that can’t be broken, but can die with time. She’s contemplated asking her mother if it’s true, what the other’s say, but a part of Jubilee knows she couldn’t handle the answer.

She returns to the Godswood just over a week after the funeral, the forest so much colder than before, the last long stretch of winter before spring. The tree is just as it was during the blood moon, roots twisted in knots that spread all through the clearing, stretching out thorny arms. The great white trunk of the tree seems bigger than before, the leaves a more vibrant red, and Jubilee wonders if that’s a product of the Blood Moon, of the sacrifice, however small it was.

The forest falls into a hush as she crosses the clearing, steps slow and deliberate, eyes only on the Godswood. The wind falters as she comes closer, the air still and silent, and Jubilee takes a breath as she stares at the great tree.

She doesn’t know why she’s come here, what there is to gain from venturing this deep into the forest when she has nothing to offer, nothing left to give. It’s disrespectful to the Old Gods, to seek them out with nothing to exchange, but Jubilee doesn’t want council. The full moon passed just days after they buried him and for the first time that Jubilee can remember she didn’t wake with knots in her hair, flowers in the window. And she wouldn’t care, but something about it leaves her hollow, empty inside, and she can’t help but wonder if she lost more than just him that night.

Jubilee doesn’t stop until she’s standing just before the Godswood, closer than the last time she was here, unafraid even as the branches seem to bend and twist around her, moving even without the wind, so alive. Slowly, she reaches out, fingertips sliding along the rough surface of the tree, and it hums beneath her touch, warmth blooming under her palm.

And the forest whispers Darling, where did your heart go? but she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know.

She gets him tattooed over her heart, a delicate little thing, pastel pink blossoms curling along her collarbone above her breast, a splash of life against her pale skin. She’s been so devoid of color in the weeks since they buried him, cold and quiet, the bruises under her eyes growing darker. It was supposed to get better.

People say it gets better, but the anger and heartache are still there, bloody and raw like an open wound, lingering just under the surface of her skin.

It hurts and bleeds, the needle driving into her skin to the bone, but Jubilee relishes the sting, letting it mask the ache that’s grown familiar in her chest, if only for a little while. And it’s good, even better than the double-headed snake curled along her ribs, with clean lines swooping along the curve of her chest, and no seems surprised when they see it on her skin, like it’s meant to be there. They never mention it and neither does Jubilee, content to let it lie. One last piece of him.

In the days after going to the Godswood she starts to feel sick. Her headaches come back and exhaustion creeps through her, lack of sleep in recent weeks finally catching up. Jubilee can’t keep anything down, an acidic taste taking root in her mouth. At first, she thinks it might be a curse, a reprimand from the forest, but the Folk don’t deal in body aches for such minor offenses, only nasty tricks: missing left shoes, pens that won’t work, people speaking in tongue-twisted phrases. Never anything like this.

The sickness persists, to the point where she begins to worry as the days bleed from February to March, blurring together, the weeks too short and yet achingly long.

Jubilee drops her head down against the rim of the toilet, sighing as the porcelain cools her burning skin. Her eyes slip shut, stomach still rolling slightly, though she manages to keep it down, having nothing left to throw up. The vibration of her phone on the counter makes her groan, and Jubilee squeezes her eyes shut tighter, head pounding at the incessant buzzing. She draws her knees towards her chest, curling into herself, sighing as the new position soothes her stomach momentarily.

A cold hand clenches around her heart until she can’t breathe as a fleeting though crosses her mind. Jubilee counts the days backwards in her head, hands shaking as she fists them in the too long, too big, too warm sweater she must have stolen from Sweet Pea. It hits her and she swears under her breath, choking up. Her phone rings again as she curls in on herself, taking deep, gasping breaths, panic welling in her chest.

Her skin is clammy when she finally peels herself away from the toilet. She stands on shaking legs, groping blindly for her phone. A series of texts and missed calls flash on the scene but she ignores them, searching her contacts for a specific name.

“Toni,” Jubilee breathes into the phone as she picks up, a whimper catching in her throat, “I need you.”

By the time Toni gets there, Jubilee is curled up in the corner of the bathroom, tucked between the shower and the toilet, knees drawn to her chest, making her look smaller than usual, younger, more fragile. Jubilee doesn’t react as Toni slips into the room, dumping her bag on the bathroom counter and crouching in front of her, eyes blown wide with concern. “Jubilee,” she murmurs, reaching out for her, movements slow and deliberate, “what’s wrong?” Her fingers wrap around Jubilee’s arm and the other girl’s eyes snap up, puffy and red.

Jubilee’s mouth opens, but the only sound that leaves her is a fractured, wet, crackling sound. She shakes her head, eyes squeezing shut as she inhales sharply through her nose, a subtle tremble to her hands. “I think I’m pregnant,” she murmurs, looking back up at Toni, who goes still.

“What do mean you—” Toni chokes off, grip going slack around Jubilee as she shrinks back at Toni’s tone. Immediately, Toni’s hand finds Jubilee’s, squeezing tight. “When was your last—”

“December,” Jubilee cuts her off, gaze flicking around nervously, unable to linger on Toni long. She drops her head back to rest against the wall, nails digging into the back of Toni’s hand. “I didn’t think anything—I thought I was just—I thought—” She stumbles over the words, quaking. Thought it was the stress. The lack of eating. An Old God’s curse. “But it’s been two months and I don’t—”

Toni hushes her, dropping Jubilee’s hand and grabbing her by the shoulders instead, holding her steady. “Hey, look at me.” Her grip is firm as she ducks down to better meet Jubilee’s eyes, shaking her slightly. “Jubilee, look at me.” She does, taking a slow, shuddering breath. “It’s gonna be okay,” Toni tells her, a firm edge to her voice.

“Is it?” she asks, gaze snapping up to meet Toni’s, a fierce look in her eyes. “How is any of this okay?” A humorless laugh spills out of Jubilee, one hand fisting in her hair. “Toni, what the hell am I supposed to do? I can’t—” She doesn’t finish, jaw snapping shut. She can’t do this, not with everything else, not with the hollow feeling in her chest that carves in deeper every day.

Toni is quiet for a long time and Jubilee drops back against the wall, boneless and exhausted. She worries her lower lip, taking it between her teeth and chewing until it bleeds. Plucking at a loose thread in her sweater, she stills as Toni’s hand curls around hers, lacing their fingers together. “Did you take a test?” she asks softly, thumb rubbing across Jubilee’s knuckles. Jubilee shakes her head, swallowing down the lump in her throat. “Okay.” Toni takes a deep breath. “Okay, we’ll figure this out.”

Jubilee nods absentmindedly, not quite believing it. She goes willingly when Toni opens her arms, leaning in to engulf Jubilee in a bone-crushing embrace that almost puts her back together. Almost.

“It’s gonna be fine, JJ,” Toni says, and it sounds like a promise. The use of the old nickname makes Jubilee cling to her tighter.

But it’s not fine. Jubilee takes three tests and they all end up positive. The little pink lines are almost mocking as she stares down at them and it makes her sick. Toni convinces her to schedule a doctor’s appointment, just to make sure, because it could be a false positive, though they both know how unlikely that is.

She doesn’t know what to do, and neither does Toni, and when Fangs comes looking for her, concerned by her radio silence, it all comes spilling out. She ends up curled between them on the couch, the three of them sitting in silence as an old movie plays on the TV. Fangs has an arm locked around her, hand smoothing over her hair as he murmurs clipped phrases in Spanish against her ear to sooth her, while Toni has her hand locked in a vice grip. And Jubilee goes back to where she was a month ago. A different house. A different night. The same empty feeling in her chest.

Her appointment comes the next morning and Fangs insists on taking her, a hand on her back holding her steady as they walk into the clinic. Her hands shake and she looks small, swallowed up in Sweet Pea’s Serpent jacket as she’s lead to the front desk to check in.

It all happens in a blur. The room. The tests. The doctors. The results.

And Fangs knows. As soon as he sees her face he knows. And if it were any other time she thinks he might be ecstatic. He’s always been good with kids, always said he would be the best uncle, and she knows he still will, but the situation is bitter. It doesn’t change the hollow feeling inside them both, just makes it a little bit bigger.

He’s halfway up from his seat when she bursts at the seams, unable to hold herself together any longer. She’s sobbing, trembling by the time he reaches her and yanks her tight up against him. Jubilee collapses into Fangs, eyes squeezing shut as her stomach rolls. He hushes her, stroking her hair and rubbing circles against her back, asking if she wants to go home, but it only makes her cry harder.

The trailer in Sunnyside isn’t home. Not anymore.

“Do you think it’s a curse?” she asks, later, at Pops after she’s calmed down. She swirls her straw around in her half finished shake, chewing the inside of her cheek. Fangs glances up from across the booth, pulling away from the pamphlet they gave her about what to expect in the coming weeks. “History repeating itself.” Her eyes leave his as he frowns, gaze sliding to the side to look out the window. “He never got to meet his dad either.” She turns back to Fangs and his expression is pained. Jubilee’s eyes water, her throat tightening up. “It’s not fair,” she whispers.

He reaches for her across the table, gaze soft, and Jubilee grabs for him blindly, catching his hand in hers and clinging to him tightly. “I know,” he murmurs back to her, thumb brushing against her knuckles slowly as her hand begins to tremble in his. “He would have been so fucking thrilled,” Fangs tells her, squeezing her fingers as he laughs breathlessly. It chokes off into nothing and he stares back down at his drink. “Absolutely terrified but so goddamn happy.”

Her lips quirk up just the slightest. “He would have been a good dad.” Jubilee rests her free hand over her belly, a strange calm washing over her as she thinks about how excited he would have been. They’d never talked about kids, but she can almost picture the smile that would light up his face, one she’ll never get to see.

It’s surprisingly easy, keeping her pregnancy from the Serpents, her family. She’s six weeks along, not showing yet, but the signs are there. The morning sickness gets worse and she stops drinking and Fangs is even more protective than usual, taking up his role of uncle and godfather without so much as a word, but everyone writes it off the same way as she did. They know she hasn’t been sleeping, that she’s been sick, but they think it’s only the grief, loss still clinging to her like a second skin.

So no one asks, and Toni and Fangs promise to keep quiet until she’s ready, not wanting to press too hard too fast. A lot has happened in the last month, too much to process so quickly, and so they let her be, keeping close in case she wants to talk and distracting her when they need to.

Somehow she ends up with Hot Dog. Two days after her appointment, Fangs showed up with the big sheepdog and a bag of kibble, handing them off to her without an explanation. Briefly, she wondered how Fangs talked her father into allowing him to take the dog, but the thought left her as soon as Hot Dog wagged his tail, nails clicking as he skittered across the floor to greet her, sniffing and nosing at her until she crouched down to pet him.

It was the first time she really smiled since the night he died.

Jubilee dropped down in front of the excited dog, the floor cold against her skin, and Hot Dog nearly knocked her over, licking at her face and hands. Fangs only watched from just inside the front door, a slow grin tugging at his mouth as she giggled, squealing as Hot Dog shoved his cold nose against the side of her neck.

Things are better, having someone—something else in the house. Something alive. It isn’t the same by any stretch, but she feels better knowing she’s not completely alone. Jubilee let Hot Dog sleep on the bed with her the first night and he hasn’t left her side since, following her around through the house and curling up next to her on the couch, head on her lap and tail wagging.

She breathes just a little bit easier with him around.

Somehow, Jubilee ends up with Betty Cooper sitting across from her in the living room, looking out of place in the small trailer, fidgeting awkwardly. Despite how long they’ve known each other they’ve never been friends, not even after Jughead and Betty began dating in high school. And maybe it’s because of Jubilee or maybe it’s because of Betty, but they’ve never found common ground. Jubilee has never liked the smugness of the Cooper women and Betty never quite forgave Jubilee for denying her entrance into the Serpents, and that’s always been fine. Jubilee has never had an interest in befriending the Cooper girl.

And she knows that Betty isn’t here to make friends, not really. She’s here because Jughead asked her to, because he’s gotten it into his head that she shouldn’t be alone right now and Betty is the only option left. Jughead has some meeting with their father. Fangs and Joaquin are off on a run in Greendale. Toni is working. Jubilee would be too, if Mei Hua would let her.

She hasn’t said anything, but Jubilee gets the feeling the woman knows more than she’s let on. At first, she let Jubilee stay, let her throw herself into working at the shop at odd hours, let her work herself into the ground. Valentine’s Day was the worst of it. It was hard, putting on a smile two days after she buried her fiancé, seeing couples in the shop. It was almost too much, but Jubilee begged Mei Hua not to send her home. She couldn’t be alone. Not that day. And Mei Hua let her stay. But lately she’s been firm about Jubilee having certain days off, and Jubilee hasn’t had the heart to fight her on it.

“I know how you feel,” Betty says suddenly, disrupting the uneasy silence they’ve fallen into. She shifts slightly on the couch, tucking her feet beneath her as Jubilee frowns, gaze flicking up from her book and pinning Betty in place.

Jubilee doesn’t respond right away, book settling in her lap as she stops absentmindedly running her fingers through Hot Dog’s fur. The big sheepdog whines, nosing at her hand, and she ruffles his ears until he flops back down at her feet. “Excuse me?” Jubilee purses her lips, eyeing Betty critically.

Betty bites her lip, fidgeting. Her green eyes flit around the room and she swallows, finally meeting Jubilee’s gaze once again, hesitant but determined, and it leaves a sour taste in Jubilee’s mouth. “I know how you feel,” she starts slowly, clasping her hands in her lap and leaning forward.

Betty’s gaze is suddenly soft, empathetic, and it makes Jubilee’s jaw clench. Her stomach fills with ice as she closes her book, placing it on the side table with more force than necessary. “What the hell are you going on about, Cooper?” Hot Dog makes a soft sound at the sharpness of her voice, Jubilee narrowing her eyes at Betty in confusion.

��I know how you feel,” Betty repeats gently, “about what happened to Sweet Pea.”

Scoffing, Jubilee shoves herself from the chair, a laugh of sheer disbelief spilling out of her mouth as her hand rakes through her hair. She chokes up just as quickly, eyes squeezing shut. It’s his name that does it. Everyone has been so careful not to say it around her, not since the funeral. And it’s so good to hear someone say it. It’s good and bittersweet and it makes something inside her ache.

Betty stands slowly. “Jubilee,” she tries again, taking a small step forward, “talk to me, please?” Jubilee’s hands shake, nails biting into her palms. “Look, I understand how horrible this all must be.” The smile Betty sends her is tight. A little practiced. A little forced. “When I almost lost Jughead—”

“Shut up,” Jubilee bites out, but she just keeps talking. “Betty, shut up!” The other girl takes a step back as Jubilee glares at her. “You have no idea how I feel,” she spits at Betty. “This isn’t like when we were kids. Sweet Pea isn’t going to wake up and everything will be fine. He’s dead.” Her heart lurches, stomach flipping. It’s the first time she’s said his name since that night and it makes her feel sick. Jubilee wraps her arms protectively around her middle, a sob sticking in her throat. “Sweet Pea is dead,” she chokes out, softer this time.

It’s quiet. The words hang heavy in the air. Betty chews her bottom lip, refusing to meet Jubilee’s gaze as she fiddles with the hem of her sweater. Finally, she sighs, green eyes flicking up to meet Jubilee’s. “I realize that, I just—”

“Don’t.” Jubilee’s shoulders droop, exhaustion overtaking her. “Just get out.”

“Jubilee.”

“Get out,” she repeats firmly. Betty stares at her for a moment, mouth opening like she wants to say something, but thinks better of it. Eventually, she straightens, gaze on the ground as she slips around Jubilee.

The door slams shut behind her and Jubilee sinks back onto the chair, curling her legs close to her chest. Hot Dog whines at her feet until she pats the cushion beside her and the shaggy dog hops up, sitting in her lap, wet tongue lapping at her face until she wraps her arms around him, burying her face against his shoulder.

The front door is thrown open without warning.

Hot Dog is off the chair in a second, snarling as someone storms into the trailer. Jubilee’s reaction is slower, half-asleep where she’s still curled into the chair. The book slips from between her fingers, clattering to the floor, and she snaps around. With one hand, Jubilee grabs Hot Dog by the collar, yanking him back before he can go barreling towards the intruder.

“Hot Dog!” she hisses, shushing him once she sees who it is. Her eyes narrow as her brother slams the door shut, glaring at her. She’s taken aback by his entrance, and even more so by the look in his eyes. He should know better than to break into someone’s home like this, especially on the Southside. It’s a good way to get hurt, bursting in like this. “Jughead, what—”

“What the fuck is your problem, Jubilee?” he snaps at her before she can finish, so much venom in his tone that it makes her flinch. Because he’s never shouted at her like that, not even when they were teenagers and would argue about anything and everything. Not once in the twenty-three years they’ve been alive has he ever talked to her like this.

Hot Dog growls at Jughead’s raised voice and Jubilee’s grip around his collar tightens as the dog strains against her.

She can only stare at him, taken aback by his tone. Jughead stands in the entry way fuming, waiting for a response. Jubilee opens her mouth, then closes it again just as quickly, her eyes narrowing. “Did Betty send you to talk to me?” He tenses and she scoffs.

He’s quiet for a moment, watching Hot Dog and avoiding her gaze, shifting from one foot to the next. “Look I get it, okay?” Jughead says, softer than before though there’s still an edge to the words. “I get that you’re angry and upset right now, but you don’t need to take that out on her.”

“Then maybe Betty should stop sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong,” Jubilee snaps back at him. She lets go of Hot Dog, who looks up at her as she slips from her spot, still glaring at him, ready for an argument if it should come to that. Jughead still won’t meet her eyes, and she crosses her arms, stomach dropping. “You’re not here for Betty,” she murmurs.

His gaze flicks to hers for just a second and he swallows. “Dad wanted me to talk to you.” Jughead pauses, taking a deep breath before continuing, expression apologetic. “They’re talking about making me the new Serpent King. I wanted to tell you before…” He shrugs, but the implication is there. Before they make it official. Before they announce it to the entire gang and the news spreads across the Southside. Before she had to hear it from someone else.

“Three weeks.” Jughead sends her a bemused look, eyes finding hers, and the smile she sends him is mean. “That’s how long he’s been in the ground. Three fucking weeks.” Jughead flinches and she laughs. “you and dad have no fucking shame.”

Jubilee shoves past him, heading towards the kitchen, Hot Dog on her heels.

Jughead twists on his heel, following after her. “We can’t have the Ghoulies know how vulnerable we are now,” he reasons, though it sounds bitter coming from him. A part of her knows he’s right. Sweet Pea was the next Serpent King and he was murdered on Serpent territory. That leaves them vulnerable, the Serpents rattled by what happened. They look weak in the eyes of the Ghoulies, and they can’t have that.

But that doesn’t make it any easier to swallow.

“Then maybe we should do something about them.” She keeps her back to Jughead as she opens the refrigerator, immediately going for the bottle of whiskey tucked into the back. Jubilee swears under her breath, shaking her head as retracts her hand and slams the door shut. “Like I’ve been saying for weeks.”

“You can’t just go after the Ghoulies like that, Jubilee, you’re going to get yourself killed.” Jughead’s voice is strained, exasperated, anger still burning beneath the surface as he hovers in the entryway.

Jubilee whirls on him. “I don’t care!” She doesn’t mean for it to slip out, but the words leave her in a rush and she can’t take them back. Jughead’s eyes widen, his arms going slack at his sides as he stares at her. There’s something horrified in his gaze that makes her sick. Jubilee curls her arms around herself, leaning back against the counter. “I don’t care anymore,” she repeats quietly, squeezing her eyes shut. “I’m tired, Jug. I’m so, so tired of waking up without him.”

And maybe that’s pathetic, but she’s beyond caring anymore. Everything that’s happened in the last month has been too much too soon and she doesn’t know how to handle it anymore. She can’t keep doing this.

For once in his life, Jughead doesn’t seen to know what to say. He takes a step further into the room, murmuring, “Jubilee?”

She sniffs, finally lifting her gaze to meet his. A strained smile tugs at her lips. “I wish they’d killed me too.” Jughead blanches and she trembles, the weight of those words settling over them both. “I wish,” Jubilee says, swallowing the lump in her throat, “Ezekiel had have just killed me.”

Jughead shakes his head. “You don’t mean that,” he finally chokes out. “Jubilee, you don’t mean that.”

“I do.” A part of her is startled by the easy confession, but she lets it all come spilling out, exhaustion overtaking her. “Every single day.” A short, bitter laugh tears from her. “Sometimes I forget. When I first wake up. That he’s not there.” She fiddles with the sleeve of her top. “Sometimes I wake up and I swear, I swear I can feel him breathing on my neck, but it’s not real. It’s just a dream. Wishful thinking,” she murmurs. Tears build in her eyes, and she barely registers Jughead coming closer to her. “And it’s hard, it’s just so hard. And I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Warm hands latch onto her shoulders, firm as they hold her upright. Jughead ducks down to meet her eyes, a flicker of fear in his gaze. “It’ll get—”

“Don’t.” She shakes her head, trying to pull away from him, but he refuses to let go. “Don’t tell me it gets better, Jughead.” None of this can get better. She’s still pregnant and Sweet Pea is still dead and they’re still on the brink of war with the Ghoulies. Jubilee sobs, tears finally overflowing, and she swipes at them with her sleeve. “God I am so sick of crying.”

Jughead doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her fully, drawing her into a bone crushing hug that knocks the breath out of her. He squeezes so tightly it almost hurts, but it’s the safest she’s felt since that night at the park and she clings to him. Jughead cups the back of her head as Jubilee trembles against him, fingers fisting at his jacket. “I’m sorry,” he whispers in her ear, voice thick. “If I could make this better…”

She shakes her head. “I just want him to come back,” she tells him. “We were supposed to go home.”

“I know,” he hushes her, rubbing her back between her shoulders as Jubilee hiccups. “I know.”

The news of Jughead becoming the next Serpent King spreads quickly through the Southside. The Serpents are rattled by the news, especially so soon after Sweet Pea’s death. A month isn’t a long time, and the Serpents have always been loyal to a fault. It feels like a betrayal, crowning a new king so soon, but Jughead was right. They don’t have much of a choice anymore. There’s already blood in the water. It’s only a matter of time before an all out war starts on the Southside, and the Serpents need to pick themselves back up. Move on.

Only it’s not that easy.

Jughead never wanted to be the Serpent King. And while his loyalty to the gang has never wavered, there are some who still don’t believe he should be king, that he hasn’t earned it. A part of Jubilee agrees, the part that feels guilty, the part that hates her father for asking her to be okay with this. And the other Serpents look at her in pity or sympathy when FP announces the news at a meeting. She hates the looks, and when FP tries to talk to her afterwards, she walks out of the Wyrm without sparing him a look. There’s nothing he can do to fix this.

More than anything, the news forces FP’s hand, a meeting finally being called between the Serpents and Ghoulies, just over a month since Ezekiel murdered Sweet Pea. The tensions between the gangs just grow thicker after that. Skirmishes break out, mostly between the younger Serpents and Ghoulies. Everyone is looking for a fight, and things come boiling over.

They meet at the Wyrm, per tradition, with FP calling the meeting. Beyond that it’s also a show of strength, the Serpents presenting a united front, allowing the Ghoulies onto their territory, proof they aren’t broken.

FP closes the Wyrm for the day, the meetings between the gangs private, a select group. For the Serpents it’s the three members of the Jones family, though Jubilee had to argue with FP to allow it, and three others of their choosing. Jubilee and Jughead choose Fangs and Joaquin respectively, and FP brings in Dutch, who Jubilee hasn’t seen since that night at FP’s trailer.

Jubilee is at the bar with Fangs and Joaquin standing on either side of her when the Ghoulies finally come strolling in.

The grin on Malachai’s face knocks the breath out of her, and Joaquin and Fangs shift as she tenses. Malachai has three Ghoulie officers behind him, none of which are Ezekiel, and Jubilee isn’t sure if she’s disappointed or relieved. She hates him. And Jubilee isn’t ashamed to admit that she wishes he was dead, but she’s also terrified. She saw the sick glee in his eyes that night, the calm reasoning, the planning. He beat Sweet Pea because it would start a war and because it was fun.

Malachai and his lieutenants head for the table near the bar where FP, Jughead, and Dutch are already waiting, but Jubilee’s gaze flicks back to the door as the men exchange greetings, her jaw clenching as Penny Peabody slips into the room.

Penny’s gaze slides around the room, flicking between each person, and her eyes light up when she catches sight of the people at the bar. “Jubilee!” the former Serpent greets as she walks up to the younger woman, gaining the attention of the rest of the room. Joaquin and Fangs both stiffen, but Jubilee doesn’t react. “It’s good to see you again,” Penny continues, voice dripping with faux cheer. “I was so sorry to hear about Sweet Pea.” She’s smiling while she says it.

Jubilee scoffs, returning the smile with her own tight-lipped one. “I’m sure you were, Penny.”

Her smile wavers just the slightest, Jubilee not giving her the reaction she wants. “I suppose I should offer my condolences,” Penny says, and Jubilee rolls her eyes, turning away. Penny just keeps talking, switching tactics. “I’m sorry you had to watch that. Ezekiel can get messy sometimes. Over excited. You know how boys can be.”

It’s so off-handed, but it hits Jubilee right in the chest. Tears burn at the backs of her eyes, pregnancy hormones setting her off.

Fangs takes a threatening step towards her, one hand clenched into a fist. “Fuck off, Peabody,” he snaps. The other Ghoulies look over at them, amused.

Penny’s expression shifts to one of sheer delight at Fangs comment. Smile too big. Too bright. And Jubilee stiffens, knowing they’ve made a mistake somehow. “So is the baby Sweet Pea’s? Or did you move on to Fogarty that quickly?” Penny asks her suddenly. The rest of the room goes quiet.

Joaquin inhales sharply on her left and Jubilee winces. This wasn’t how she wanted people to know. She doesn’t bother wondering how Penny knows, the woman has eyes all over Riverdale.

“Jubilee?” her gaze flicks to Jughead as he stands from his spot at the table. He glances between her eyes and stomach rapidly, expression a mix of shock and hurt that she didn’t tell him before. “You…” He can’t finish, mouth moving but nothing coming out. Behind him, FP stares at her, absolutely horrified, and Jubilee’s eyes snap back to Penny, jaw clenched.

For a long moment, Jubilee just stares at the former Serpent. She hasn’t forgotten the blackthorn. Penny worships the Old Religion just like Jubilee and her mother, and she knows exactly what the plant means. Bad luck. Misfortune. Struggle. Strife. Penny knows exactly what she did, offering it to Jubilee like that. Not quite a curse, but close enough.

“Martinez.” Malachai glances at her as Jubilee speaks, voice low and even. His head cocks to the side, waiting for her to continue. “Get Penny out of my face before I kill her.” Jubilee means good on the threat and they know it too. And Jubilee thinks she could get away with it, not that Penny shared her little secret. The Ghoulies may not have much respect for women, but they aren’t complete monsters. Not anymore.

Malachai is quiet for a minute, just staring at her, but then his gaze shifts. “Peabody,” he starts lowly, cutting off when Penny grins and slinks back to his side without another word.

Jubilee leans back against the bar, eyes squeezing shut, the weight of FP’s gaze still heavy on the side of her face. Fangs shoulder brushes against hers, a silent comfort, and she takes a shaky breath. Her hands shake and she clenches them into fists, feeling the Ghoulies watching her.

She doesn’t pay attention to most of the talk, the Ghoulies and Serpents passing around the blame, making accusations about who started what. The Serpents drew first blood in defense of a Serpent Adjacent. The Ghoulies attacked unprovoked. A breach in territory. Usually, Jubilee would be more involved with the politics of it. FP and Jughead have never been diplomatic enough for it. But with another migraine building she tunes it out, leaning into Fangs just the slightest.

“I can’t give you my brother,” Malachai says suddenly, gaining Jubilee’s attention once more. “You know that.” The Ghoulie King looks between FP and Jughead, something indecipherable there.

FP leans back in his seat, crossing his arms. “That’s not why I wanted a meeting, Martinez.” He wets his lips, glancing sideways at Dutch, who nods just the slightest. FP straightens in his seat, making himself look taller. “I wanna make a deal with you. No more blood.” FP sighs. “We have bigger problems than each other right now.”

Jubilee’s stomach drops. “What?” she chokes out, head snapping around towards her father. Fangs and Joaquin have gone still on either side of her, and Fangs swears under his breath.

Jughead also turns to their father, eyes wide. Clearly, FP hadn’t mentioned this to him either. “Dad?” He exchanges a look with Jubilee for half a second before turning back to the Serpent King.

FP doesn’t look at either of them, gaze still on Malachai, who seems just as taken aback, though far more pleased. “Joaquin,” FP barks, gesturing with his chin towards the upper level of the bar. “Take her up to the office.” Jubilee clenches her jaw, raw anger flaring inside her. A protest dies on her lips as FP snarls out a “now!” when Joaquin hesitates.

He pulls her upstairs without a word.

Jubilee paces the length of the office for what seems like hours as she waits for the meeting to be over, agitation growing with each pass she makes. Joaquin watches her from his place in front of the door, blocking her way out, eyes apologetic. Jubilee isn’t mad, at least not at him. Joaquin had as much choice in the matter as she did. He can’t disobey the Serpent King, especially not in front of the Ghoulies like that. Such blatant disrespect would only make them look weak.

They don’t talk as they wait, their nerves on end.

The sound of footsteps pounding against the stairs makes Jubilee pause in her pacing, turning to the door. The door to the office is pushed open, and she sneers when she sees her father standing in the entryway. “Get out,” FP tells Joaquin without once looking away from her. Joaquin follows his gaze, looking at Jubilee questioningly, but she only purses her lips, nodding for him to go.

It’s only after the door clicks shut behind him that FP softens. He crosses the room quickly, reaching for her. “Jubilee.”

“Don’t,” she snarls, stepping out of his reach and glaring. “Don’t fucking touch me right now!” She can’t believe him right now, making peace with the Ghoulies after what they did to Sweet Pea—to her.

He stops, leaving a few feet of space between them, expression remorseful, and she scoffs, turning away from him. “You’re pregnant,” he finally says, so quiet she barely hears him. Jubilee squeezes her eyes shut, arms crossing over her stomach. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t need to. She wouldn’t have reacted to Penny like that if she wasn’t. “Is it Sweet Pea’s?”

She shoots him a nasty look over her shoulder, half turning to face him. “Of course it’s fucking his,” she spits, insulted that he would think otherwise. FP winces, shame in his eyes and she knows he didn’t mean it like that, he’s just surprised, but it doesn’t make it hurt less. “You made a deal with the Ghoulies.”

He runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “We can’t have more blood right now,” he explains to her. “Not with the Wolves moving in. We pick a fight with the Ghoulies and more people get hurt.” FP takes another step towards her, expression softening just the slightest when he sees the tears burning at her eyes. “Malachai won’t just give up Ezekiel that easily.”

“They beat him to death.” FP’s jaw clenches at the reminder, his eyes squeezing shut. “Ezekiel forced him onto his knees and didn’t stop beating him even after he was already dead. Then, he spit on him.” Jubilee takes a single step towards him, glaring up at her father. “Sweet Pea didn’t have a chance. And you’re just going to let that go?”

“Jubilee—”

“What if it was me?” she asks him, gaze cutting through him right down to the bone. Jubilee settles back against the wall, arms crossing over her chest. “What if they killed me? Would you do something about it then or would you still be acting like a coward?”

FP rounds on her. “You’re my daughter,” he snaps at her, voice strained. There’s a flash of anger in his eyes.

“And he was going to be your son,” Jubilee reminds him.

He has the decency to look ashamed. “Sweetheart, I—”

Jubilee shoves past him before he can finish.

“You know I don’t need a babysitter,” she says breezily. Joaquin looks up at her from the couch, tensing at the look in her eyes. His jaw twitches, but he feigns confusion, and Jubilee sighs, tired of them going around in circles like this. Things have been tense since her talk with Jughead, since they made the deal with the Ghoulies. “You and Fangs are hovering.” Jubilee uncurls herself from the chair, leaning towards him as she places her book on the table beside her chair.

Joaquin sits up slowly, wetting his lips as he shifts to face her directly. “We just want to make sure you’re—” He cuts off just as quickly, mouth snapping shut and she scoffs.

Swallowing, she looks down at her hands, fingers curling into loose fists. “Well, it’s starting to get on my nerves,” she tells him, fighting the shakiness of her voice, adding more bite than she means. Joaquin flinches just the slightest and she winces, a seed of guilt pooling in her gut.

He only sighs, rubbing the back of his head in frustrating. “Look,” he starts again, softer this time, placating, “we care about you.”

“Save it, Joaquin.” Jubilee stands, not sparing him a look as she takes off towards the kitchen. It’s not a conversation she wants to have, not now. She doesn’t want to hear that they think she’s spiraling, that she’s depressed, because they just don’t get it. Because it’s different for her, for someone who practices the Old Religion. Because she didn’t just lose her best friend; she lost her heart, too.

He’s on her heels. “You’ve said some things—”

She barks out a laugh. “And there it is.” She whirls on him, leveling Joaquin with the nastiest look she can manage, stopping him in place. “Maybe next time just lead with that.” Her patience has worn thin lately, temper riding the knife’s edge between a slow burn and an explosion, building and building with nowhere else to go.

He takes a deep breath, running a frustrated hand through his hair as he turns his back on her. Joaquin circles back around to face her. “Jubilee, you told Jughead you wished the Ghoulies had killed you,” he reminds her, voice wavering, and she squeezes her eyes shut. “That’s not—”

“I know!” she snaps. Jubilee runs her hands over her face, letting out a humorless laugh before dropping her hands and glaring back at him. “Jesus, Joaquin you think I don’t know how fucked up that is? How awful that sounds?” Her fingers rake through her messy hair. Joaquin takes a step towards her, but she backs away, wrapping her arms around herself protectively. “We were together for seven goddamn years and now he’s just gone and I’m pregnant and I don’t—” she shakes her head, sending Joaquin a half-hearted shrug and stumbling over the words. “I don’t know how to do this without him.”

Joaquin is quiet for a long time, and Jubilee turns away from him, beginning to pace, not wanting to see the look in his eyes. She’s tired of the pity. It’s been weeks since they buried him but she still feels stuck in place, everything around her moving too quickly. Squeezing her eyes shut, she shoves her hair away from her face, fingers catching in the tangled knots she hasn’t taken care of. Jubilee drops her hand with a frustrated huff, angry tears building behind her eyes.

“Come with me.” She stills halfway across the room and half-turns to glance at him over her shoulder. His gaze is hard, jaw set, and Jubilee sighs, knowing he won’t leave unless she goes too. It reminds her of the look Sweet Pea always had, the determination she always loved in him, and it makes her soften, shoulders slumping.

Jubilee sighs, expression tired. “Joaquin…” she starts, voice trailing off into nothing as he crosses the room and comes to stand in front of her, placing his hands on her shoulders.

“Come with me?” he asks again, voice softening as he ducks his head down to meet her eyes. “Just for an hour, please?” He squeezes her arms and she opens her mouth to speak, but Joaquin continues before she can say anything. “And after that if you want to come home, I’ll take you home, I promise. You just need to get out of here for a little while.”

Sighing, she wraps her arms around her middle, the sincerity in his eyes making her falter. “Okay.”

Joaquin drives in silence, occasionally glancing at her from the corner of his eye, as if expecting her to disappear. Ignoring the looks, Jubilee leans her head against the window, glass so cold it burns against her skin. is fingers tap against the steering wheel, a steady beat, and she allows her eyes to slip shut, not knowing where he’s taking her but simply deciding to trust him. Joaquin has never lead her astray in all the time she’s known him, and he wouldn’t start now.

Jubilee’s palm presses to the flat of her belly, fingers drumming against her side as her stomach churns. Morning sickness or nerves she isn’t sure.

They aren’t in the truck for long before Joaquin takes a turn out of Riverdale, the forest surrounding them as he drives towards Sweetwater River. Jubilee stays silent, watching the trees pass by them in a blur. It isn’t long, until they reach the bridge overlooking the river. With narrowed eyes, Jubilee stares at the other car parked on the bridge, frown twisting at her mouth. She doesn’t recognize the figures standing outside the car, but Joaquin doesn’t hesitate to leave the car, not saying a word as he circles around to her side of the truck.

Jubilee unbuckles herself, popping open the door, but doesn’t move to leave until Joaquin reaches for her, taking her by the hand. “Trust me?” he asks, and she’s known him too long not to, so she nods and lets him tug her from the truck, helping her down. Jubilee sends him a small, apologetic look, but he only smiles, curling an arm around her, and she knows they’re okay.

The figures become less hazy as they get closer, and Jubilee recognizes Joaquin’s boyfriend, Kevin, alongside—

“Moose?” she murmurs, frowning in confusion as Joaquin urges her another step forward with the hand pressed protectively against her back, her steps faltering when she sees the former Bulldog, someone she hasn’t spoken to since they were in high school together.

He sends her a slow smile, shifting slightly beside Kevin, who exchanges a meaningful look with Joaquin. “Hey, Jubilee,” Moose greets quietly.

Her gaze slides away from his, stomach flipping again. She glances up at her companion, frown twisting at her lips. “Joaquin, what…” she starts, only to trail off as her eyes drift back to Moose. She realizes what’s happening even before Joaquin leans down to whisper in her ear, turning her to face him.

“You need to talk to someone who understands,” he murmurs, hand dropping from her back as he takes a small step away from her. A part of her wants to argue, but she knows he’s right. She needs to talk about what happened that night, how it lingers. Fangs and Joaquin and her family, they can all listen, but they don’t know how to talk to her about it, not entirely. Jubilee nods absentmindedly, and Joaquin’s fingers curl around her shoulder. “Call me when you’re ready,” he tells her. “I’ll be here.”

Jubilee hesitates before taking a step away from him, feeling suddenly smaller without Joaquin hovering behind her, and she glances back at him once to make sure he’s still there before turning to Moose. She’s never really spoken to him before, not about anything important. He’s always just been Moose, a friend of Kevin and Reggie, who she only knows through their relationships with those around them. She wouldn’t consider Moose a friend by any stretch, hardly an acquaintance at that.

He’s just some stranger that might be better able to understand her than the people she’s known her entire life.

Kevin leaves Moose’s side, sending her a brief look as he slips past her, but says nothing as he heads to Joaquin’s side. The couple doesn’t go far, Kevin’s hand slipping through Joaquin’s as they turn and head back down the way they came, leaving the bridge and wandering down towards the water. Jubilee follows them with her eyes until they disappear, then turns back to Moose, who hasn’t moved to come closer to her.

Slowly, she forces herself to move, and Moose turns away from her, instead looking out at the water as she moves to his side, arms tight around herself as the wind picks up, tossing her dark hair around her face. Jubilee sighs, eyes slipping shut as the breeze curls around them, the pine scent of the forest causing the tension to drain from her shoulders.

Neither of them speak for a long time as they look at the river.

“Congratulations,” Moose says, startling her out of her thoughts. Jubilee pulls her gaze from the swirling water back to him, and he gestures with one hand to her stomach, a slight grin on his face.

She tries to return the smile but it falls flat. “Word spreads fast.” She can’t say she’s surprised. The news is all over the Southside by now, after the meeting between the Serpents and Ghoulies. It was only a matter of time before the news spread North. No one can keep a secret for long in Riverdale, and with Sweet Pea’s death so recent, so soon after their engagement, Jubilee’s been just one more part of the town’s talk, no matter how much she hates it.

Moose hums faintly. “More like Kevin can’t keep his mouth shut.” It cracks a grin from her, though it doesn’t stay long. Kevin’s always been the biggest gossip she’s ever known, especially when he’s excited. He’s been around more than usual lately, an extension of Joaquin keeping close, she hasn’t minded much. Kevin is good-natured, different from the Southsiders she grew up around. He keeps her mind off things.

When she doesn’t say anything, Moose continues, racing his forearms against the railing on the side of the bridge. “How far along?”

“A couple weeks,” she tells him, dimly aware of voices coming from below the bridge, Joaquin and Kevin keeping close. Jubilee takes a deep breath, the cold air a shock in her lungs. “I didn’t know until…” She shrugs, pulling her jacket tighter around herself as she glances over the guardrail, just barely able to see her reflection in the water.

He only nods, empathy flickering in his eyes. “Sorry I couldn’t make it to…” he trails off as well, unable to say the word, and it chokes her as well.

“Doesn’t matter,” she tells him honestly, and a wall breaks down between them. Jubilee loosens her grip around herself, turning to Moose and offering him a ghost of a smile.

They don’t talk about Sweet Pea. Or Midge. Or the broken pieces of themselves that were lost with them. Instead they fill the silence with mindless chat, about anything and everything else, and slowly she begins to relax, snorting when Moose tells her about the things he and Reggie used to get into back in high school. And Jubilee smiles, leaning forward against the bridge and looking out over the water, half-frozen, thawing with the coming spring. She never imagined herself here, standing on the same bridge where the Serpents and Red Circle had their rumble so many years ago, talking with Moose Mason of all people.

Jubilee never would have thought they’d have anything in common, especially not like this.

“Does it ever get better?” she asks him quietly, watching the water stir below. Her stomach lurches with the river, and her fingers find the slight curve of her belly, still hardly noticeable beneath the flannel she must have stolen from Sweet Pea years ago, colors faded and fabric frayed, though his scent still clings to it, wrapping around her like a blanket.

Moose is quiet for a long time as he rests his forearms against the side of the bridge. “I don’t know,” he finally tells her, gaze shifting from the river over to her. Jubilee worries her lip, arms curling around herself. Moose sighs through his nose, closing his eyes as a breeze curls around them. “I don’t know.”

She calms after her conversation with Moose. The ache in her chest doesn’t disappear, doesn’t hurt less, but it doesn’t need to. She’s not okay, maybe she never will be, but she’s better. She can breathe again. She doesn’t flinch when people say his name anymore, even if she can’t bring herself to say it most days.

A slow exhale slips from her, Jubilee curling up tighter on her bed, eyes slipping shut. Hot Dog rests his head over her thigh, tail thumping against the mattress as she plays with his ears, enjoying the silence. After her talk with Moose her friends have become more lax about leaving her alone, even if it isn’t for long. Someone pops in everyday to check how she’s doing, make sure she’s eating okay.

Fangs has taken it upon himself to track her pregnancy, keeping her up to date on things. Jubilee is sitting at just about seven weeks right now and still can’t quite believe it. Her free hand settles over her stomach, a low hum slipping from her.

Jubilee lies there with Hot Dog for a while, dozing until the dog perks up his head. His tail wags wildly and Jubilee cracks open an eye, hearing the front door shut with a soft click. Hot Dog doesn’t move from the bed or bark, so Jubilee puts her head back down.

She only looks up again when there’s a soft, almost hesitant knock on the door. Jubilee sits up in a rush when she sees who it is, her stomach flipping at the sudden shift. “Dad,” she murmurs after a moment, surprised to see him there. They haven’t spoken since their fight at the Wyrm. Jubilee hasn’t been back there since, and FP has been keeping his distance, giving her time.

FP doesn’t move from the doorway, staring at her for a minute as she sits up, folding her legs beneath her. He clears his throat, gauging her reaction as he steps further into the room. “I know you don’t want to talk to me right now, Sweetheart,” he says softly, getting straight to the point. “But I had to do what was best for the Serpents. So no one else gets hurt.”

Her gaze drops to her lap, teeth worrying her lip. She wants to say that she knows, that she understands, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less, and she doesn’t say anything.

He must not expect her to, expression soft as he crosses the short space between them, crouching in front of her so that she’ll meet his eyes. He reaches up, thumb swiping across her cheek as a tear slips out. “I thought you might like to talk to someone.” He nods towards the door.

Following the movement, Jubilee stills when she sees someone unexpected.

Gladys Jones smiles at her from the doorway. “Hey there, Baby.”

Jubilee sucks in a sharp breath, eyes narrowing. “Mom?”

FP presses a quick kiss to her temple before leaving her with her mother, and Jubilee isn’t sure what to make of Gladys’ sudden appearance. She hasn’t seen her mother for months, not since the festival back in October, before she gave sweet Pea her heart. Gladys has always been unpredictable that way, coming in and out without so much as a word, and Jubilee would be angry if she didn’t understand why.

They talk about everything. Every detail of the last month. Jubilee lets it all spill out. And Gladys listens, sitting on the bed beside her, Hot Dog between them. She takes one of Jubilee’s hands in hers, thumb swiping across her knuckles soothingly. As Jubilee tapers off, Gladys flips her hand so her palm is facing upwards, tracing the lines on her hand absentmindedly.

She stills when her finger touches the scar on her palm. “Jubilee,” she murmurs, voice shaky, “what’s this?”

Jubilee looks up, rubbing between Hot Dog’s ears gently. She frowns at her mother’s tone, glancing down at the scar as well. It’s healed well in the last two months, just a pale sliver of skin. “The Blood Moon,” she murmurs, shrugging. “The tribute.” Gladys sucks in a shaky breath. “I didn’t know another way.” A fond smile tugs at the corner of her mouth as Jubilee brushes her hair away from her eyes. “He surprised me, you know. I didn’t think he would do it too. Sweets never liked the rituals in the woods. He never said it, but I think it scared him, sometimes.” She smiles at her mother, though it freezes on her face when she sees the troubled look in her eyes. “What?”

“Jubilee, do you know what you did?” Gladys asks her slowly, the words shaky. When Jubilee only frowns she sucks in a sharp breath. “You and Sweet Pea made a blood oath,” she explains. “You spilled blood together beneath the eclipse. You promised blood for blood. It’s carnal, binding.”

“What are you talking about?” Jubilee turns to face her mother more directly and Gladys’ clings to her hand, holding her tight.

She releases Jubilee’s hand, cupping her face gently, making sure to look her in the eyes. “There’s power in the Blood Moon, sweet girl,” she tells her, barely above a whisper, like it’s a secret. It very well my be. “It’s effects linger. Jubilee, you both shed blood for the Old Gods. That’s not something they so easily forget.” Gladys twists around suddenly, glancing out the window before turning back to Jubilee. “The March moon, do you know what it’s called?”

“The Worm Moon,” Jubilee answers automatically, staring at her mother in confusion. “But what does that—”

“Why do they call it that?”

Jubilee shakes her head, not sure what her mother is getting at with these questions. “Because it’s the last full moon before spring. The worm’s are crawling out of the earth. Waking up.” Jubilee’s breath catches, the realization hitting her. “It’s the moon of rebirth.”

#riverdale #sweet pea x oc #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea fic #fic: darling dearest dead #oc: jubilee jones

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