MAD HATTER ; school for good & evil

02 | the art of kidnapping

MAD HATTER !
( school for good and evil &&& sge!various x reader )

CHAPTER TWO : the art of kidnapping

SHE GAZES UP AT THE MOON, and with a final breath, her eyes blissfully flutter shut. A pure, white light shone from her chest as her veil lifted, being carried by the midnight breeze. Butterflies, blue as her hair, erupted from her remains, and glimmered under the lunar light.

Victor and Victoria, standing hand-in-hand by the archway, gazed, stunned at all that Emily had left; her remains of the day—

You took your eyes off the ageing pages of your favourite fairytale, "The Corpse Bride" as the door to your home slammed shut, practically shaking by the hinges as your sister trudged inside, cookie crumbles dusting the corners of her mouth.

Earlier that night, as you both made your way home, Aggie spawned visions of your friend foolishly darting into the woods to find the — in her own words — School for Fools and Crackpots, and ending up gored by a wild boar. The thought initially had you worried, even insisting you go and join her. But your sister urged you to head on home while she sneaks into Sophie's garden, making sure she did nothing too idiotic.

And now, as you returned to finishing your storybook (you made sure to carry on your parents' routine, and read it to yourself every night before bed), your sister ranted on about how foolish Sophie had been, from the way she undid her window (singing a birdbrained song about princes), packed her bags (then singing about wedding bells), put on makeup and her finest dress ("Everybody Loves a Princess in Pink"?!), and finally (finally!) tucked herself into bed.

"Bottom line is, Sophie's safe, and tomorrow morning, she's going to wake up feeling like a fool." Your sister smirked, meeting your gaze as you gently shut your fairytale upon its end. You sincerely hoped she wouldn't rub it in your friend's face, as that would only make matters worse.

However, as your finger gently caressed along the bottom right seal on your book, you couldn't help the sudden strengthening of your belief in the so-called make-believe school. The distinct marking on your book was a seal with an elaborate crest of two swans, one black, and one white. And on the crest were three letters:

S.G.E.

Years ago, Mr. Deauville, the owner of Gavaldon's local bookstore, first encountered it, having finished unpacking that year's storybooks when he noticed a large smudge hiding in the box's fold — that same, unique marking having been tattooed on it.

There was no need for him to guess what these letters meant. It said so in the banner beneath the crest. Small black words that told the village where its missing children had gone:

THE SCHOOL FOR GOOD AND EVIL

The kidnappings continued, and the missing posters piled up. But now, the thief had a name. Everyone called him the School Master.

Your mouth opened, ready to voice out the truth behind the stories (your friends, Frosty, Teddy and Benji, most especially, having told you millions of them) when both yours and Aggie's attention was snagged, hearing the porch squeak loudly and for singing to bounce your thin walls following the sound of the door slamming open.

"In the forest primaeval
A School for Good and Evil . . ."

While Agatha rolled her eyes, your lips twitched higher, humming along to her hymn. You could recall hearing your own mother singing that at night.