Work Text:
“Off With Your—”
Just before he dropped the guillotine on the guilty student's neck, “Riddle, wait!” A hand snatched his, keeping it suspended in the air.
No magic had been cast, yet a shockwave still rippled throughout the courtroom, rocking some students on their heels and causing murmurs among others.
Riddle hadn't even heard Trey scaling the podium, so the contact came as a shock, but his body had been so coiled in rage that it didn't let him startle. There was only a slight tremble in his arm as he'd struggled to follow through with his intended swing, the magic of his signature spell sparking bright in his staff. It stopped soon enough, unable to make Trey’s hand budge.
Cold, silver eyes snapped to Trey then, a predator switching targets, and for all of a moment Trey was back in the lobby of his family’s business, rain pattering against the windows, Mrs. Rosehearts’ terrifying eyes piercing through his being whenever he managed to tear himself away from watching Riddle.
The memory was gone in a blink, because he saw something else in Riddle's eyes, in the way his brow tightened. Something terribly, wretchedly close to heartbreak. That, too, was gone just as quickly.
“What possible reason could you have for interrupting this student's punishment?!” Riddle barked, his anger successfully redirected.
“The reason is that he's not at fault,” Trey argued, voice surprisingly even despite the tension choking the room. “He was out in the woods on Professor Crewel's request.”
“The verbal commitment does not outweigh the written rules of the Queen of Hearts. We just went over this!”
“It does when it pertains to those rules.” His gaze turned towards the trembling student. “Rule fifty-three states that anything taken must be replaced. This afternoon there was an incident in the potionology lab, and he had to use up an entire vial of purple mushroom powder to fix it. He's in my club, so I know what happened.” Then his eyes returned to Riddle’s. “He broke another rule in doing so, but having both a teacher's word and a written rule to act on should outweigh just a written rule alone. And Professor Crewel's request to forage more purple mushrooms would fall well within rule fifty-three, wouldn't you say?”
The pause was significant.
Riddle's eyes narrowed slightly as he considered the additional testimony, then slowly turned his head back to the student. “Why wasn't this vital information brought to my attention?”
The student had to clear his throat a few times to make his voice work again. Even then, it was weak. “I-I didn't…I didn't know—”
“I should've mentioned it sooner,” Trey urged, hoping to draw his attention back over before Riddle really sank his teeth into that admission. “The fault for that is mine, Housewarden.”
It didn't work. Or at least it seemed that way at first. The wrinkle in Riddle's brow only deepened further as he curled his lip, and he appeared to entertain the thought of beheading both of them. But then his gaze flicked back to Trey's face, a fraction of a fraction of a second, and he pointed his free hand at the trembling student. “You are to return to the dorm immediately when a hedgehog sneezes. No ifs, ands, or buts. Am I understood?”
“Y-yes, Housewarden!”
“I want to see your face in the lineup every single time from here on out. Have I made myself clear?”
“Yes, Housewarden!”
“Dismissed.”
The student almost tripped over himself in his haste to return to the stands.
“We have forty-six minutes left until lights-out. Do not let me catch you in the halls after then. All of you are dismissed.”
“Yes, Housewarden!” The voices crowed, their volume only matched by the sound of their shoes marching out the door.
Soon, only the two of them upon the podium remained. At that moment within the deafening silence of the courtroom did Riddle realize that Trey still held his hand. When he pulled, firm but not quite a yank, it came free easily. “Why didn't you tell me?” he asked, meaning for it to come out as harsh as the rest. It missed the mark by a mile, much too hurt-sounding to wield the edge he'd wanted.
Trey’s calm expression cracked and sank, appearing both sad and sufficiently scolded from that one question alone. “...I'm sorry.” He had no excuse ready.
“I need you to be prompt with these things, Trey. We can't afford to appear sloppy. Not now.”
“I know.”
“Good.” Riddle opened his mouth as if to say more, but nothing else came. He lingered there, chewing on the unsaid words as he worked his jaw. Then he turned and made his way down the podium steps.
Trey watched him leave, and fought the urge to reach out after him.
===
Hand-wringing should not be tolerated, yet he physically couldn't stop himself. It felt like ants marched under his skin, or something wet and sticky and dark ran tracks across the surface. There was nothing he could do to stop it. The whole incident was his fault.
He froze when warm hands took his and sandwiched them together. “Hey, look, I'm gonna be fine. No need to get into a tizzy over it.”
“But—” Riddle cut himself off with a sigh.
Trey smiled up at him, so calm even with his leg in a cast. “It’s okay. Accidents happen.”
This shouldn't have happened in the first place. He wanted to argue, but doing so would only continue to send them in circles. Instead he dropped his head, trying to express just how excruciatingly awful he felt without words. Trey’s hands pressed tighter, squeezing, a silent answer to his silent plea. It was so similar and yet so different from when Trey clutched his hand back in the garden, when all Riddle could really feel was the warmth and pressure through two layers of leather, save for the one spot near his wrist where his glove had torn and the raised edge of Trey’s rubbed against it. Now Riddle discovered the texture of Trey’s palms, rougher than he’d expected and just a little bit clammy, and found it to not be unpleasant.
His eyes slid over to the crutches propped up against the bed. Dry as Trey’s hands already were, no doubt the skin would begin to peel after a day of use. It was his responsibility to fix that, both as Housewarden and as the cause of Trey’s injury. “Let me assist in your care, then,” he said eventually.
“You don’t have to.” Trey’s brow knit, though he didn’t stop smiling.
“Please.” Quiet, barely above a whisper.
It made Trey pause, and for the briefest of moments his expression almost began to mirror Riddle’s. Then it was gone, smile right back in place. “If you really want to help, then…maybe you could grab the notes from the classes I missed? Since I'm going to be stuck sitting for a while anyway, I might as well get some studying done. Lilia should let you borrow a copy.”
Whether it was the display of diligence even while injured, or being given something productive to focus his worries on, or a mixture of both, the clouds began to lift from Riddle’s eyes. Not entirely, but enough where light could catch on his resolve. “I can do that. While I'm out, I can also pick up some hand cream for you.” He looked down at their palms, still pressed together. “Holding onto crutches all day is viable to put a strain on them.”
“That'd be appreciated. Thank you.”
Nodding, Riddle squared his shoulders, a Housewarden once more. “Stay right here and rest up. I'd better not find you in the kitchen when I get back.”
Trey's grin was just a little guilty at that. “I hear you loud and clear.”
Riddle retrieved his hands from Trey’s hold and strode out of the bedroom, only half-aware of how they no longer buzzed with anxiety, but tingled with warmth instead.
===
With the final hurdle cleared and the crowd going wild, Riddle allowed Vorpal some time to show off before steering him away from the field, down along the gate towards the back building, likely for some water and rest. There were still more competitors waiting for their turn, but Trey held little interest in watching the rest right then, and abandoned his spot on the bleachers in favour of meeting Riddle where it was quieter. Riddle hadn’t dismounted when Trey arrived, so he waved to catch his attention, and grinned when he and Vorpal trotted right up.
“That was an amazing performance,” Trey said in greeting, beaming up at him.
“Thank you, Trey. Though Vorpal is the one who deserves much of the praise.” Riddle leaned forward to stroke along the horse’s neck. “He works very hard to keep in top form.” In response, Vorpal huffed and raised his head, turning ever so slightly to look at Trey. His lips pulled back to show off his teeth, then he tilted to try and press into Riddle’s hand for more attention.
Trey couldn’t tell if that was pride from Vorpal or, and perhaps he was projecting a little with this one, a taunt. The latter meant he was being teased by a horse, and that was several steps past reasonable, so he dismissed it as a trick of his mind. “You’ve both been working hard, and it shows,” he said. As he went to take a step forward though, making sure to approach from the front to avoid startling the animal, Vorpal snorted again, threw his head back, and backed up. That got Trey to freeze in an instant.
“Vorpal,” Riddle warned, raising one finger from the rope to brandish it at him. “Don’t be rude. He’s not even a competitor, there’s no need for that.”
The horse turned away, and Trey cautiously resumed his approach by circling around from the side instead. He knew full well that Riddle would be fine dismounting on his own, but offered a hand anyway since his legs must’ve been sore after such intense riding. Upon noticing, Riddle reached his hand out in return, and Trey took an extra step forward, horse be damned, to grab it and hold firm as Riddle swung his leg over and hopped off the saddle. The twitch in his brow when he touched down told Trey his assumption had been right on the money. Dismounting such a tall horse without steps or something to ease the distance probably didn't help any.
Vorpal turned back to look, ears perked. Trey could not help but watch out of the corner of his vision, just in case. Luckily, nothing came about, as Vorpal instead took a couple steps to the side and became occupied with something in the other direction.
Still gripping Trey’s hand for balance, Riddle leaned down to knead at his thigh, tugging at one of the outer straps until the buckle shifted away and revealed an indent left in the fabric of his pants. He breathed a hiss through his teeth. “I shouldn’t be getting sore like this, but that saddle was much different from the ones I regularly ride on. I’ll have to take that into account next time.” Quickly, he swapped to begin adjusting and massaging the other thigh.
Trey nodded, eyes falling to the hand still clutched in his. He’d noticed it before, how much smaller Riddle’s hand was, but something about the white gloves made it all the more obvious. Though the grip was firm, he still managed to appear so delicate.
It didn’t register that Vorpal was moving beside them. Trey continued to observe those slender fingers even as Riddle stood up straight and began gathering up the reins, distantly aware that he hadn’t pulled away yet, wondering how it would feel to drag his thumb over the knuckles of the leather—
His thoughts were suddenly and rudely interrupted by a loud, wet slapping noise directly in his ear.
With a startled shout Trey all but threw Riddle’s hand and scrambled away. Now, under different circumstances he would not necessarily mind having the opportunity to take a peek at a horse’s teeth, but this was not the time nor the place, nor did he enjoy having them quite so close to his face. Even though his target had fled, Vorpal continued to smack his lips until Trey made eye contact, then stopped to grin before immediately snapping back to attention and pretending that he wasn’t being a beast of menace.
Okay, so it hadn’t been his imagination. He was definitely being taunted by a horse.
“Now what has gotten into you?!” Riddle exclaimed, tightening his grip on the reins further. He shot Trey an apologetic look. “I’m going to lead him back to the waiting stables. We’ll chat further in a minute.”
“Y-yeah,” Trey managed, still trying to calm his heart as Riddle guided the massive animal away. As he watched them leave, he caught Vorpal shooting him one last look, and swore on everything he knew that the animal was trying to wink.
===
Frankly, he still didn’t fully get why he was there. What the Science Club got up to was none of his business nor responsibility, and they had plenty of students capable of heating a crucible already. But Rook had made it sound like a matter of life and death, and slipped a very unwelcome piece of information about a certain Leech brother’s whereabouts (the library, his initial destination after visiting the botanical garden) at the end, and so he eventually agreed to lend his aid.
As soon as he saw Trey’s sheepish expression, Riddle knew the situation had been overblown. But he was there now, and there was still a very high chance that changing his mind would result in a disastrous merman encounter out on the walkway, if not in the library itself. Besides, he couldn’t deny that he was curious. He’d heard tales of Rook’s escapades from Trey, but hadn't had much opportunity to observe first-hand.
Riddle’s job was to utilize a controlled fire spell to heat a crucible full of various metals, which would then be added to a cauldron once liquefied and cause a reaction. Trey accepted the first one from him in order to demonstrate the experiment to his younger club members.
“Be sure to stand back,” he warned, and Riddle did.
When as the melted copper hit the bottom of the cauldron, a thick, slow plume of flaming, green smoke erupted as if from a volcano, rolling up towards the ceiling in a sludgy wave and fanning out wide. Liquid splattered about, but not too terribly far, just enough to where one student jumped back in surprise and started laughing. The room glowed a fluorescent green until the smoke was fanned out the window.
A new batch was brewed, and Rook insisted he take a turn. Once the crucible was handed off, Riddle returned to his spot. In his peripheral vision, he saw Trey lean over.
“Riddle,” Trey whispered and tugged on his sleeve lightly. “You’re in the blast zone.”
He blinked. “What? I’m as far away as I was before.”
“Yeah, but that was when I did it. This is Rook.”
“... A good point,” he conceded and backed up several steps until Trey released his grip on his lap coat.
As it turned out, that distance wasn’t far enough at all. It wasn’t until moments before impact that Trey realized their error. His hand shot over to snatch Riddle’s, yanking him backwards as molten copper hit the brew hard and absolutely filled the room with sparks, showering the spot they once stood in metal. Students scattered. Some fled entirely.
With his free hand, Riddle grabbed his pen and encased the sputtering cauldron in a thick bubble of ice, snuffing out the flame below it. Then, a wind spell pushed the haze outdoors. Surprisingly, the damage wasn’t as grave as they had feared, but the clean up would still be something of a hassle. Only when the chaos died down and the students began to cautiously regroup did Trey release Riddle’s hand, unleashing him to stomp over and scold Rook until his face lit up as bright as the crucibles had been.
Since he was part of the whole ordeal, Riddle remained to assist with cleaning up. He’d just finished disposing of the cauldron’s contents when he felt a tug on his sleeve. “E-excuse me,” said a timid voice from behind, a shy Scarabia first-year
Riddle turned to look at the student. “Don’t tug on my sleeves. You’re not the King of Hearts.”
“I-I-I’m sorry. Just, um, th-the lab broom’s been covered in hot metal, and I don’t know where I can find an extra.”
His eyes narrowed, jaw tensing. “Could you not have asked your clubmates for assistance?”
“Well…” the student turned, and so too did Riddle, following his gaze up to where Rook was still prattling excitedly about the explosion.
Fair enough. He sighed through his nose and pointed to the left. “Three doors down, there’s a classroom with a storage closet. Extra brooms are kept there in case of this exact occurrence.”
“Alright. Thank you!”
As he sent off the student, a chill ran down his spine, and Riddle looked to the side to see Rook no longer engaged in rambling, but positively beaming in his direction, grinning ear to ear. When he raised a brow of inquiry, Rook merely waved and trotted over to pester Trey instead.
===
The moment he was dismissed Trey made his way towards the back of the infirmary, weaving through Styx agents and weary students alike. He didn’t need to guess which curtain was which; Ace and Deuce had both slipped behind the back-leftmost one almost two hours earlier, then left once Yuu had been given clearance. One of the agents stood beside the curtain, tapping away at a tablet, and merely cocked her head to the side when she spotted his approach, granting silent permission to enter before returning to her work.
Tucked in the bed, propped up by multiple pillows and looking far less worse for wear than since Trey had last seen him, laid Riddle. To his surprise Cater was also already there, only half-occupying one of the two chairs as he leaned forward to show off something on his phone. Upon his entry both pairs of eyes glanced up from the screen, calm and just a tiny bit wary, only for it to melt into something much more welcoming once they realized it wasn’t yet another agent.
“So, they finally let you go, huh?” Cater joked, reaching over to pull the free chair back enough for Trey to sit. “Took them long enough.”
“The queue kept getting interrupted.”
“Unsurprising. It’s something of a mess out there, last I was told.”
Riddle’s comment prompted Trey to really take him in. He looked exhausted, but at the same time strangely relaxed, like being laid up in the infirmary didn’t inconvenience him in the slightest, contrary to every other time he’d been forced to pay a visit. The smile he wore while watching Cater’s phone had grown tenfold in the scant time he’d been looking at Trey, relief and something Trey couldn’t parse dancing behind those eyes. It would’ve been a comforting sight, had it not been for the IV drip sitting on the opposite side of the bed.
Trey tried not to stare at it, but couldn’t stop his gaze from flicking up to the shimmering bag. “How are you feeling?”
“Much better than before,” Riddle answered, clearly cognizant and alert, if a little more subdued than Trey expected. Then he lifted up his arm, careful not to jostle the small tube running into the crook of his left elbow. “I’m of the opinion that this is a bit much. The medical personnel from Styx apparently thought it prudent to administer a healing solution for mages on the verge of overblot.” A beat. “And morphine. At first I refused but,” he sighed and let it drop, “they are the leading authority regarding blot. I suppose one can’t be too careful, especially after such a disastrous ordeal.”
Cater’s elbow nudged Trey, smirk hooking ever so slightly. “Look at him, he’s getting the good stuff. I’m kinda jelly, like, we all went through the same thing, right?”
“You didn’t fight back against Malleus upon waking up,” Riddle pointed out.
“Mmm. True. Giving him a beating in a dream was already tiring enough.”
“And what of you? Not injured, I hope?” Silver eyes scanned Trey’s form, Riddle’s brow twitching and smile tucking in at the corner ever so slightly.
Trey shrugged. “I’m fine. Really, I was more worried about everyone else. But it looks like the others are no worse for wear too.”
“I figured you would be. Honestly, Trey, you should think of yourself more often.” And that was when Trey really let himself relax; if Riddle still had the energy to chide him, he knew he’d be just fine. Apparently his reassurance wasn’t quite enough to stop Riddle’s smile from fading though, lower lip disappearing into his mouth for a few silent seconds. And then, “Are we still on for tea?” Slow, cautious, like he might’ve misunderstood their conversation in the dream and wanted to be certain.
Trey reached out and took up one of Riddle’s hands, clutching it tight. The contact alone was enough to smooth the creases back out, but just to be sure, “Of course. As soon as you’re ready to head back.”
The effect was instant. His smile returned, dimpling his cheeks and lighting the room with its brilliance. It was there at his bedside, watching Riddle gaze up at him so calmly and laugh at his and Cater’s antics, a hand clasped between his own with the pulse in the wrist ticking steadily against his fingers, did Trey realize he had been wrong about something very, very vital.
===
Dusk had only just begun to fall, yet the fireflies found it suitably dark to begin blinking in earnest. Riddle recalled being surprised the first night they appeared at Heartslabyul, setting down his evening cup of tea to push open his bedroom window in awe. The closest he had seen in the Queendom were glowworms during one particular field trip, but never near his home, and never in such large quantities. He’d adored seeing them that first year. Now, though he found himself captivated by the lights, he wasn’t quite able to summon up the same enthusiasm.
After all, it meant the school year was approaching its end, and thus the end of their time together.
“Incredible…” Trey breathed beside him, leaning back against the structure upon Heartslabyul’s highest tower. “I’ve watched them from the lounge window before, but never really had the chance to come outside and appreciate them in person.”
Riddle nodded. “Me neither. There was always too much to do. Not that that has changed.”
“It’s changed enough that we can sit out here in the first place, so I’d say that’s plenty.” Humming, he tapped a finger against his knee, then turned to face him. “You know, I don’t remember ever seeing them in my first year here.”
“Is that so? And I don’t suppose it’s because you were preoccupied in the kitchen.”
Trey smirked. “You’d think that, but nah. We just didn’t get fireflies. It’s possible they could’ve skipped a couple of years, since apparently some of the third years at the time hadn’t seen them either.” The hooked edges of his lips smoothed out into a more fond smile. “But it feels like quite the coincidence that they started showing up after you revitalized the rose maze.”
He knew flattery when he saw it. It was still more than enough to make his smile grow wider. “It likely is just a coincidence. They can spend up to two years as larvae, after all.” When Trey cocked a brow, Riddle cleared his throat. “I was curious when I first saw them, so I took out a book from the library.”
“Don’t get me wrong, it’s fascinating. But that still begs the question of why we apparently never had any adults flying around before then.”
“Something for me to look into at the next opportunity, perhaps.”
Trey turned back to resume watching the fireflies, the light of the almost-faded sunset reflecting off his glasses through the crenels in Heartslabyul’s faux battlements. “I like to think you played a part in it regardless.”
Cheeks heating in a way he couldn’t blame on the warm summer air, Riddle scoffed and looked away, hoping the fireflies would be enough to keep Trey’s attention. His own was snatched away instead when a small cluster of three dared venture close, and he was seized with the impulse to reach out, captivated. When he did, one of the three immediately circled closer and landed smack dab on his nail.
Speaking to insects was considered an incredibly niche specialty, and so Night Raven College didn’t offer it as part of their Animal Languages courses, nor had his mother gone to quite that extent when teaching him. Not yet, in any case. Still, he slowly brought his hand closer for better observation, and whispered, “Hello there. I hope you’re enjoying our roses. We’ve worked very hard caring for them,” as if the bug would understand him regardless. The firefly crept up his finger to the back of his hand, then flew off to rejoin the rest. He'd meant to put his hand down, but in tracking the firefly's flight path his gaze landed on Trey’s sitting against the tile. His heart skipped a beat.
Well, if he was going to do such a thing, it'd be now or never.
Inhaling so deep through his nose that it hurt, Riddle turned his head back to the sky, shut his eyes tight, and set his hand over Trey's, fingers curling around the side of his palm. Braced for Trey to pull away, his heart nearly fell through the roof when he felt Trey flinch in surprise, but he did not move further. Not right away. Then, hesitantly, pausing as if to judge Riddle’s reaction before following through, Trey’s hand closed to capture the tips of Riddle’s fingers. Riddle shifted and twisted them further, trying to work more of his hand into Trey's, until they sat palm to palm. When he squeezed, Trey squeezed back.
Riddle released the breath in a quiet laugh. Mentally, he reassessed his judgement, and felt more than just enthusiasm bubbling up within his chest from watching the fireflies dance.
Because maybe, maybe it wasn’t really the end after all.