Agatha sat in an ornate chair in the corner of her bedroom and waited. Every night that Tedros was not with her at their home, at their castle in Ever After, she waited. She always waited.

And everytime without fail, Sophie appeared.

She came through the open balcony windows in a blast of cold air and flying blonde hair. Black shadows and mist clung to her, swirling around her in a graceful, dangerous dance, the wispy ends shaped like claws and sharp, toothy grins.

Agatha sometimes thought they were laughing at her for being so weak.

Sophie's first step on the ornate tiled floor was without sound. The curling mist tightened about the witch's body until it was nothing more than a black, shimmering cloak and a tight fitted dress. Agatha knew if she looked too closely, she could see the Sophie's various creatures of the dark moving along the fabric. Bats, spiders, locust. Agatha suppressed a shudder.

Without needing to search, Sophie knowingly turned to the darkest corner of the room. She didn't move, but smiled pleasantly, though there was a tinge of madness to it, a spark of the evil within her that she couldn't contain. "Come out of the dark, Agatha," she said, her voice sickeningly sweet.

Agatha could not help but follow Sophie's command. Her nightdress had been near black where she sat, shadowed as she was in the corner, as if it were piteously trying to cloak her from something she could not hide from. But everything dark belonged to Sophie, even the shadows of her own room. Agatha's bare feet padded quietly across the cold floor and into the square of moonlight shining in from the balcony. She stopped in front of Sophie and looked up into those cold, green eyes. Sometimes those eyes looked at her softly. Brief flashes that slipped through Agatha's fingers like grains of sand. It never lasted. She could never hold on to all of it.

Perhaps this time would be different. Agatha always hoped that it might be different.

Sophie's hand swept out from beneath her cloak, her skin an unearthly pale. She brushed her fingertips along Agatha's cheek. "Always so sad, my prince," Sophie whispered. She tilted Agatha's face up to her own.

Agatha turned her face away. "I'm not your prince."

A deep chuckled bubble from Sophie's chest, amused and wicked and nothing at all like the way Sophie used to giggle back when they were schoolgirls."If you're not my prince, then I must be yours," Sophie said, plucking at the sleeve of Agatha's nightdress. "Shall I take you away from here? Rescue you from your tower? Maybe that's why it never works. We're playing our parts all wrong."

Sophie's hand stopped playing with the blue fabric, sliding her hand along Agatha's shoulder, then along her collarbone. Her hand paused briefly over Agatha's heart before moving over her throat. Sophie watched Agatha carefully as she did.

Agatha felt her jaw clench. "Stop it, Sophie."

Sophie's touch disappeared and Agatha felt the ache of its disappearance immediately.

"Fine," Sophie said. She nonchalantly sauntered over to Agatha's bed, heels beneath her long black dress clicking loudly in the quiet room. She sat down on the bedspread, crossing her legs. Long stiletto heels dangled from blood-red painted toes. "Have you married him yet?" Sophie said conversationally as if this were a mere visit between friends. She lifted a hand to her face, inspecting her nails for flaws. There weren't any.

"No, we're waiting until I'm eighteen." Agatha shook her head. "You know this."

Sophie hummed, a mocking play at contemplation. "It's why he leaves, you know. Because he knows you can't choose and he can't bear to watch it."

Agatha walked out to the balcony, overlooking the moonlit kingdom that had been granted to her the moment she had kissed Tedros and left Sophie behind with the Schoolmaster. That vile beast had grinned so triumphantly when he had watched her fade away. The moment Agatha had arrived in her Ever After with Tedros, she knew it hadn't been the right choice. Only it hadn't felt like the wrong one either. Agatha only knew that she wasn't happy and she couldn't think of a choice that would have made everyone happy. No matter her decision, someone would have been hurt.

But she couldn't admit that to Sophie. "I'm here with him, aren't I? He's my prince and you're," Agatha took a breath for strength, placing her hands on the ledge of the balcony railing, knuckles clenching white against the stone,"you're supposed to be my friend."

There was a shuffle of fabric and the approaching click of footsteps. Long arms wrapped around Agatha's waist from behind. "You told me you needed someone who was more than a friend," Sophie whispered into Agatha's ear. "That's why you think you want him, but you don't need him. You need me."

Agatha didn't respond. No denial, no confirmation. Sophie grabbed hold of her shoulders and gently turned her around so they were facing each other.

"Once more?" Sophie whispered.

Agatha shook her head, looking down. "We shouldn't."

"For our sake?"

The fight left Agatha. Sophie felt it, as she always did. Her hands cupped Agatha's face, tilted, lifted, bringing Agatha to her toes as Sophie dipped her head down. Their lips met, soft and chaste. Only in these moments did Agatha feel there was still a spark of the girl she once knew. Her best friend. Her first true love's kiss.

They parted, eyes holding each other's for one perfect moment.

Then nothing.

The nothing of everything staying the same.

Magic did not whisk them away to a happier place, to an Ever After where all was fixed and happy. The broken things were not mended. This was no true love's kiss.

Agatha felt Sophie's fingers clutch at her chin, her throat. Possessive, not reverent.

Agatha swallowed. "You're still with him, aren't you?" she said, her voice at the pitch of breaking. Heartbroken.

Sophie's brows furrowed. "Of course I am," she said. She winced as the skin at the corner of her lip cracked, breaking and spreading and maligning her once flawless features. She began to pull away, bringing a hand up to hide her lips, growing drier by the second. Her lips chapped and the coarse texture spread across her face suddenly, grey splotchy patches appearing on her skin and flaking away.

"What we're doing, it will never work like this. Wait, please listen to me!" Agatha pleaded, grabbing a hold of Sophie's hands as they began to pull away from her. "You're evil. He makes you evil, Sophie! You have to leave him!"

Sophie wrenched her hands free with a violent jerk. The edge her mouth curled into a snarl, half hidden by hands that were becoming gnarly and knuckled. Her nails grew longer, unkempt, then cracked along the edges. Her cloak began to shift and change back into a twisting veil of shadows that would separate them.

"No!" Sophie screamed. "You make me evil, Agatha! You were the one that left me there! I never wanted any of this! I never wanted to be a witch!"

Agatha lurched toward her, reaching out, but Sophie was too swift. Her cloak of shadows whipped around her. She became untouchable, a black cloud that swept past and through Agatha until the only thing left was the whisper of wings and the echo of screaming locust growing distant.

Agatha did not watch Sophie disappear. Her feet dragged her back into her bedroom, her shoulders slumped in inevitable, cyclical defeat. She sat on the bed for a long time, staring at nothing.

Eventually, without moving, the tip of Agatha's finger glowed golden. The balcony doors closed, the drapes fluttered shut, and the light of magic in her finger faded out. She could pretend that the pitch black darkness was Sophie, swallowing her whole.

A broken sob broke the quiet.

Agatha knew that Sophie wasn't there with her at all.