Chapter Text
There’s a new edge to caring for Duchess’s hair.
She knows what temperature water Duchess likes for her rinses. When she runs her fingers through, working in conditioner, she makes sure to massages against the nape of her neck with slippery fingers. Duchess’s relaxed little sigh and the sight of her nearly melting into the chair brings with it a thrill of satisfaction. Rolling her thumbs just behind her ears brings a barely noticeable shudder, and lightly raking her nails over her scalp makes her breath hitch.
Poppy finishes washing out the conditioner, combs and parts it, and starts the long process of drying and pinning it back in place. To the awe of the salon, Duchess has no complaint to utter; she doesn’t really speak at all.
But she watches. Poppy doesn’t notice it until she glances up to the mirror, bobby pins tucked in her mouth, and meets Duchess’s hungry stare in the mirror.
So much for secret? Poppy goes red and the corner of Duchess’s lips quirk with victory. Maybe it’s an... open secret? Duchess doesn’t parade around the halls declaring them an item, or anything, but it’s not like she makes an effort to hide her interest.
That’s a part of the thrill, Poppy guesses.
When the final piece is carefully tucked into Duchess’s hair--the hairpiece--Poppy stands back and grins around a lone pin in her mouth. “All done!”
“And would you look at that,” Duchess drawls, looking to the clock. “Faster than usual.”
“Maybe I’m just finally getting the hang of your hair.” Poppy walks to the register, starts ringing her up. She almost puts in her employee discount, but a quick glance to Duchess and a shake of her head stays her hand.
“Maybe you are,” Duchess says, airliy, and lays out her payment in cash. “But you know, you can take your time with me.” Her voice drips with innuendo, and Poppy gulps hard. “I don’t want you making a sloppy mistake with my hair.”
She struts out with an upturned nose. She doesn’t leave a tip.
They meet at the lake, often. Duchess is happiest there, and Poppy won’t say no to watching her dance again. It’s never as intense as the first time, but maybe that’s the point. As breathtaking as it was to watch her dance, Poppy doesn’t think her heart could take it.
Adagio. Slow, flowing movements with no rush to get to the end, to solve the mystery. A continuous, slow build. Poppy shifts on the blanket she brought to lay out on the grass, watching Duchess twist and twirl on the silvery water’s surface. Duchess dances only after they both finish their homework-- If I’m going to dance for you, I demand your full attention. You got that? --and it’s both a reward for Poppy and a stress relief for Duchess.
Enchanting. Each kick brings a shower of droplets, sparkling like stars and glittering when they land in Duchess’s hair. Poppy had appreciated ballet as a form of dance--the work you had to put into it, the dedication to your craft, that’s something anyone can appreciate, right?--but now she’s seriously starting to see it’s beauty . Watching Duchess dance makes her feel things.
A stunning arc of limps later, and Duchess bows at the waist. Poppy claps politely, and she can feel her grin getting bigger when Duchess’s cheeks color.
It’ll never get old, making that happen.
“Gorgeous,” Poppy says as Duchess walks to shore. She reaches into her backpack and pulls out a towel, offering it when Duchess takes a seat beside her. “Honestly, it’s already cool enough that you can walk on water? But ballet? ”
Duchess pats away the water and smirks. “Flattery won’t get you everywhere, O’Hair. But it’s definitely a start …”
“Flattery?” Poppy leans back on her hands, laughing again. “What, I can’t compliment my…”
She drifts off, unsure of what to say. Is girlfriend appropriate? Would Duchess feel okay with that? She waits until Duchess looks at her again, and says, “...girlfriend?”
Nailed it , she praises herself when she’s rewarded with a soft, warm smile. This is another appeal of the secret; she gets parts of Duchess that no one else will, and she barely has to do a thing for them. She just has to...be herself. All she has to do is look, and be looked at.
It’s certainly not a conventional relationship, Poppy will admit that much. It might not even be the healthiest, but she’s free to leave whenever she wants, same as Duchess. There’s always a choice, in relationships, and she’s choosing this one.
I don’t want to share you , she realizes distantly, as Duchess slides closer and sets the towel aside. Their hands brush on the blanket and heat curls lazily from her stomach. Poppy shifts, trying for nonchalance; Duchess tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, a delicately shy motion that makes her fingers curl in the blanket. Poppy takes a chance, a breath, and slides her fingers free of cloth and over Duchess’s.
A heartbeat.
Duchess curls her fingers around her own, and leans in. They don’t kiss; Poppy goes still when Duchess lays her head against her shoulder, taking in the smell of flowery conditioner. It’s never been so vibrant a scent or so singularly arresting before. Poppy used to work with it all day before she became a student, but context is important. She’s never had someone this close to her, in all respects.
“This is…” Poppy nuzzles back, confident that Duchess won’t pull away. “This is so romantic. I’m--”
“Surprised?” Duchess’s voice carries dry humor.
“...Yeah,” Poppy admits with a laugh. “A little.”
“Well.” Duchess sighs. “I’ve got to stock up on romance before graduation. You know how it is.”
Poppy feels her heart stutter and nearly flinches. What does that mean? Even if there’s a...hiccup, at least in some part of Duchess’s fairytale, she’s still going to get her happy ending. Why else would she be pursuing her destiny so furiously?
What’s so special about a destiny, anyway? Write your own. Write one with me in it.
Poppy doesn’t say that. She turns her head, kisses the crown of Duchess’s head, and murmurs, “Can I help?”
Duchess lifts her head, tilts it. Their kiss is slow and sweet, tender if Poppy dares to think about it. Duchess is so breakable in this moment that Poppy isn’t sure what she should do. The weight of destiny hangs over them like a silver blade, and she’s never hated it more than she does right now.
So she kisses Duchess again, letting it linger. Vibrant lipstick smears against the corner of her mouth from the force and she doesn’t care , because Duchess grasps at the back of her neck with a soft sound choked in the back of her throat, pulls her closer.
If it was a sob, well, Poppy isn’t going to tell.
Holly gets invited to a sleepover with the other Royals three weeks later, and Poppy doesn’t think much of it. She’s really not feeling well; surrendering her destiny to Holly must finally be sinking in with her body, because she’s starting to do poorly in her classes. It’s that, or how often she sneaks out and spends her time with Duchess at the lake, watching the stars and dancing and--
Other things.
Between all of that, and her shifts at work, too, she’s feeling a little worn thin.
“You’re sure you don’t wanna come, sis?” Holly asks. “Apple totally won’t mind if you come along, really--”
“I’m sure, Holly,” Poppy says around a yawn, shutting her textbook and setting her completed homework in a folder for the next day. “I think I’m just gonna crash. I haven’t been sleeping well.”
“No,” Holly murmurs, voice soft. “You really haven’t.”
Poppy braces herself because here it is , the other shoe dropping--
“Who have you been meeting up with?”
She winces. Runs her hand over her head and rubs at her eyes. She doesn’t want to do this, not when she honestly does want to go to sleep for forever. She’s tired . Cranky, too, because Duchess is pulling away the closer they get to graduation and Poppy knows a split end when she sees one.
“I’m sorry,” Poppy says, voice cracking. “I can’t tell you.”
Holly sets down her bag on the vanity. Poppy starts to massage at the ache in her temples, her heart kicking up with anxiety.
“Is it someone dangerous?” Her twin’s voice shakes with fear and a quiet, simmering fury. “Who is it? Poppy, are they blackmailing you? Are they making you--”
“No, Holly, no. It’s fine. They’re fine, I’m fine, I promise.”
“Don’t lie to me,” Holly whispers tightly. “And you--you can’t keep secrets like this from me! We’re sisters , Poppy, we’re supposed to share everything. You can trust me, you know that.”
“Well, maybe I don’t want to share for once!” Poppy’s voice raises from frustration, her temper snapping. “Maybe I want to keep something just for me, just for once!”
The secret hangs in the air between them. Poppy gave up purpose, gave up security, gave up the guarantee of an ever after. All it takes is one of them going to Headmaster Grimm and telling the truth and then it would be Poppy’s signature in that stupid book.
But there is no more book, is there? Raven Queen shelved that a long time ago. Not that it matters, because Poppy never felt the magic of the book's pages sinking into her. Holly felt it. Holly got it. The end!
Holly swallows and her eyes swim with tears. Without words, she picks up her bag and she leaves the room. She doesn’t even slam the door, and Poppy’s sure that stings the most. The fact that Holly can’t even be mad with her. Because she understands that Poppy has so little of her own, because Holly is the same. Poppy drops her head in her hands and groans.
She’ll...she’ll text Holly in a few hours. Apologize. And she’ll call Duchess and tell her that she needs to tell Holly, at the least, because she doesn’t want to hurt her sister anymore. She can’t believe that she even put Holly through this for as long as she has, honestly--what kind of sister is she?
Poppy collapses onto her bed and sobs into her pillow. She’s allowed to wallow a little. She’s only in this stupid school because Holly asked and pulled enough strings to bring her along. If it weren't for Holly, she really would have nothing. No good friends, no opportunities, she wouldn't even have been this close to Duchess if it weren't for her being a student. How could she hurt Holly like this?
If you surrender to fear, then fear wins.
She doesn’t know how long she cries for, only that she has a small mountain of tissues in her wastebasket and her eyes feel like they’re on fire by the time she registers the soft sound of something tapping at her window. Startled, Poppy looks up. A black swan pecks at her window again, trumpets in agitation.
“Oh, oh no--” She doesn’t need Duchess to see her right now, make up running and pathetic and stupid , but Stars does she need to see Duchess . Even if she’s here to say that it’s over and done that’s fine. She’s already cried herself out. She rushes to the window, prying it open and letting Duchess swoop in. “--I am so, so sorry, I didn’t hear you and I didn’t know you’d--did I miss a text, o-or something, I’m sorry-- ”
Duchess changes forms and storms for her. Cups her face. Furious, she whispers, “ Are you okay? “
Poppy’s mouth drops. She wasn’t expecting concern.
“Poppy!” Duchess shakes her a little, her brows furrowed. “Say something, you dunce!”
“--I fought with Holly.” Is what manages to crack out of her useless mouth. “She was wondering who I was meeting with and we fought. I-I yelled at her. We’ve never fought and I didn’t--want to make you mad, then you’d leave even sooner and everything’s f-falling apart--”
Duchess pets her face, her hair, shushing her. Poppy coughs and chokes, lets Duchess lead her to the bed. Wordlessly she is handed more tissues, and then the bottle of water she keeps on her bedside table. Poppy collects herself as best she can while Duchess also helps herself to her mirrorphone, plugging in her password. She doesn’t see what Duchess does, but she is pulled close an instant later.
“Close your eyes,” Duchess says softly. “I’m going to kiss you.”
“But I’m snotty and gross, Duchess, what --”
“ Close your eyes. ”
Poppy shuts her eyes, shivering. Duchess kisses her a moment later and Poppy feels every tense muscle unwind. All she can focus on is the way Duchess has one arm around her waist, hand spread across her spine, the softness of her lips, the flash of light of the camera going off--
Wait, what?
Poppy parts with a gasp. She sees Duchess about to hit send on the message--a picture of them kissing, of all things?--to Holly with a wicked expression. “What the spell --!?”
“How’s this for a message? ‘‘Stop making your sister cry, I’m the one she’s seeing. Also don’t come back to the room unless you want to see something really inappropriate.’” Duchess looks up, brow arched at Poppy’s stunned silence. “What, too long? I’ll abbreviate some things.”
“I thought--” Poppy rasps, “--you wanted us to be a secret?”
“Yeah, I did. And now I don’t.” Duchess flips her hair over her shoulder. She bites her lip and looks at Poppy from the very corner of her eyes. “Do...do you still want to be a secret? It’s...it’s upsetting you. Keeping it from her, so I just thought…”
“You’d--you’d do that?” Poppy’s voice is a whisper. “For me?”
She expects a catty remark. Of course, not for you. I’m selfish. This benefits my image, Poppy. Didn’t you know, coming into this? I am a selfish girl.
“Of course,” Duchess grates, and one of her hands seizes Poppy’s. “I...I’ve been thinking about it for a while. It hasn’t been... fair , I know, but I’ve never been ashamed, or afraid. I just wanted something of my own b-before…”
Graduation. Destiny. The beginning of Duchess’s bittersweet end. She takes the mirrorphone from Duchess and types in, srry for not telling u b4. have fun @ apple, i love you sis. also pls dont come the room might be off limits sorry!!!!
She adds a couple heart emojis, and hits send. When the phone lets out a chime of success, she puts it on silent. Then she tosses the phone aside as she runs to the door to lock it, so that Holly can’t barge back in once she gets the message. She looks up, face blotchy from her tears and hair askew and eyes wild; Duchess stands and takes cautious steps to her side.
Poppy laughs, the sound bubbling out of her throat. “Do you want to show me off, now?” Her heart races with her mind, her eyes wide. “Hold my hand? Can I take you out for coffee? And use my employee discount when you come in to get your hair done?”
It says a lot about them that these are counted among the romantic gestures Poppy can think of, but Duchess sputters a laugh anyway and she gets in Poppy’s space, hands grasping hers.
“Yeah. Sure.” Her smile is illuminated by moonlight, made soft with something heated inside her eyes. “We’ll start with coffee. Your treat.”
A date. Poppy leans up on her toes, kisses her again. A real date! During normal people hours! Her sleep schedule will finally be back to normal. Hit with a sudden thought, Poppy breaks the kiss to smile against Duchess’s mouth.
“So you wanted to warn her about something inappropriate, huh?”
Duchess stifles a squawk , going tense. “That was--a bluff, okay! I didn’t want her barging in and making you cry. We don’t actually--I didn’t come here expecting--”
Poppy kisses her again, lips parted. Duchess gasps against her mouth, squeezes their hands. Duchess still has those death heels on and Poppy’s getting a crick in her neck, so she mutters, “Sit. Bed. Neck hurts.”
Duchess stumbles back, obeying. Poppy doesn’t make the bold move of sitting in her lap, just sits beside her and pulls her arms around her. She runs her hands down Duchess’s back, feels the austere edges of her shoulderblades and imagines that, for a minute, they could be wings. Duchess clutches her back, one hand gripping in her short hair.
“--I’m glad,” she whispers against Poppy’s lips, “that you’re not Rapunzel.”
Poppy jerks in her grip, but whether it’s from Duchess’s hand sliding up her skirt or the words blistering against her heart is a mystery.
“Short hair suits you more.”