Chapter Text
Justine had been standing with her sister when the dorm assignments for their third year were announced, only half listening to the excited conversations around her as everyone began comparing roommates and wondering who they would be sharing a room with for the coming school year. She had been expecting the usual arrangement, perhaps another princess from a neighboring dormitory or someone she already knew well enough to feel comfortable around, so when her name was paired with someone else’s, she initially listened with little concern; then she heard the name, and felt her heart drop. Ramona Badwolf. For a moment, Justine wondered whether she had somehow misunderstood, but the assignment was repeated clearly enough that there could be no mistake.
Ramona, the werewolf everyone at Ever After High seemed to have an opinion about, the girl with the claws and sharp canines, the girl whose eyes were rumored to flash yellow when she became angry, the girl who had spent the previous year getting into fights and breaking rules before being sent away to the Dark Forest Reform School. Justine had never spoken to her before, but she had heard enough stories to know exactly what everyone expected her to think.
Her first instinct was to ask for a change, and Justine hated herself a little for that instinct because she knew how unfair it was. Ramona had not done anything to her, and yet the stories surrounding her were difficult to ignore; students talked about her as though she were already the monster she was supposedly destined to become, and even those who had never met her seemed certain that her temper made her dangerous. Justine knew about the Badwolf family and the role Ramona was expected to play, and she knew that the wolf had recently returned from a reform school designed specifically for students who were considered too troublesome to remain at Ever After High. There were plenty of reasons to be nervous, and nobody would have thought less of her for requesting a different roommate, especially when she had never even met the girl. Still, Justine hesitated, because beneath the apprehension was another feeling she couldn’t dismiss; she was curious.
Curiosity had always been one of the main catalysts in Justine’s life, perhaps because there had been so little room for it while she was growing up. She had spent most of her childhood surrounded by her sisters, protected by her family and guided by traditions she had rarely been allowed to question, and there was something so fascinating about someone who seemed to exist on the opposite end of the world from everything Justine knew. Ramona was wild where Justine had been sheltered, outspoken where Justine had learned to be careful, and seemingly free in a way that Justine had never quite allowed herself to be.
She had heard that Ramona loved running through the Dark Forest, that she knew its trails better than almost anyone, that she could navigate by scent and sound, and that she was more comfortable among trees and streams than inside the castle walls.
Justine didn’t know whether those things were true, but she wanted to find out for herself; perhaps that was why, after several moments of nervous silence, she decided not to ask for another room. She would be careful, of course, and she would be polite, and she would make certain never to do anything that might provoke the wolf unnecessarily, but she would also give her a chance before deciding what kind of person she was.
By the time Justine arrived at Ever After High for the beginning of third year, she had spent enough time thinking about her new roommate that she had almost convinced herself she was prepared. She stood outside the dormitory door with her luggage in hand, taking one deep breath before reaching for the handle, and for just a moment she found herself wondering what it would actually be like to live with someone who had spent so much of her life among wolves. She had no idea whether Ramona would be misunderstood, hostile, indifferent, or simply impossible to understand, and every rumor she had heard seemed to offer a different answer.
The claws were real, she knew that much; so were the fangs, and the tall, imposing figure she had occasionally glimpsed from across the school grounds. Justine braced herself, pushed the door open, and prepared to finally meet the wolf she would be sharing a room with for the entire year.
The room was empty.
For a moment, the stillness was almost disappointing.
She placed her luggage beside the empty bed and looked across the room at the other side, where Ramona’s belongings had not yet arrived. It was chilling, seeing the space completely bare, because her mind immediately filled it with thoughts of what would eventually occupy it.
Their third year had begun awkwardly enough that Justine sometimes wondered how they had managed to become even remotely comfortable around one another. She had been cautious from the beginning, careful with her words and movements, and Ramona had noticed immediately. Of course she had; Ramona noticed everything. Her hearing was sharper than Justine’s, her sense of smell far more acute, and she possessed an unsettling ability to know when someone was watching her even when she had her back towards them. Justine had tried not to make her discomfort obvious, but she knew she had failed. She would sometimes glance toward Ramona’s claws before quickly looking away, or hesitate before sitting too close to her, and she had caught the wolf watching her more than once with an expression that seemed halfway between annoyance and amusement.
Ramona never actually hurt her. However, she seemed determined to test her patience.
There were little things at first, almost too insignificant to complain about without sounding ridiculous. Ramona would leave her boots in places where Justine nearly tripped over them, take up far more of the mirror than necessary, answer perfectly reasonable questions with a shrug, and occasionally make comments that were clearly intended to irritate her. Justine would swallow her irritation, because she had become very good at doing that around her sisters. She had learned early that twelve princesses living together required patience, and she had mastered the art of smiling sweetly while privately counting to ten. With Ramona, however, her patience was tested much more often.
Ramona seemed to find this entertaining. Justine suspected that the wolf was waiting for her to snap. For quite some time, Justine refused to give her the satisfaction.
Then one afternoon, after Ramona had made yet another irritating remark about princesses needing too many rules to function properly, Justine answered before she could think better of it, delivering a tiny, carefully disguised insult about wolves apparently needing fewer rules because they had trouble remembering them anyway. She immediately regretted it, certain she had finally gone too far.
Ramona stared at her for a few seconds
Then she laughed.
To her relief, It was not the harsh, mocking laugh Justine had heard in the halls when Ramona was picking a fight or getting herself into trouble, nor was it the sharp sound that seemed to warn everyone nearby that they should move out of her way. This laugh was deeper and huskier, certainly, but it was genuine, almost surprised, as though Ramona had not expected Justine to have it in her to say anything at all. After that, she began talking back.
Not constantly, and never without thinking first, but enough that Ramona eventually stopped looking at her as though she were a frightened little princess waiting for the wolf to bite. Justine even called her annoying once, earning another quiet laugh instead of an offended growl. She stopped watching Ramona’s hands quite so carefully, stopped worrying that every sharp remark would lead to a confrontation. She began to understand that Ramona could be irritating without being dangerous, and that perhaps the two qualities were not as closely connected as everyone at school seemed to believe.
Then Justine turned sixteen.
Her sixteenth birthday had been lovely, surrounded by her sisters and the familiar warmth of home, but something about the months afterward felt increasingly strange. She began waking tired without understanding why, finding her shoes in odd places, and experiencing the faintest sense that parts of her nights were disappearing between one moment of consciousness and the next. Her friends noticed the strange change of her energy before she did, and eventually she became convinced that someone was sneaking into their room and wearing out her shoes. When they decided to set a trap for the supposed thief, Justine was nervous but secretly relieved that there might finally be an explanation.
Ramona, however, immediately said the plan would not work.
Justine remembered looking at her suspiciously.
The wolf had leaned back with an expression of complete certainty and explained that whoever was taking the shoes was smarter than that, and that they would not walk directly into an obvious trap. At the time, Justine had wondered whether Ramona was being helpful or simply irritating, but as the mystery continued, a different possibility began creeping into her mind. There was nobody else who could explain the strange gaps in her memory, nobody else who seemed quite so unsurprised by what was happening, and Ramona had practically admitted that she knew something strange was going on. So when Justine eventually found herself in the middle of the mystery, she had a suspicion.
She suspected Ramona.
It was not fair, Ramona was innocent. More than innocent, actually; she had been the one person quietly watching over her.
The moment the truth came out, the fog in Justine’s mind seemed to lift all at once. Baba Yaga arrived after hearing the commotion, and the explanation that followed was so extraordinary that Justine could hardly process it. She was the twelfth dancing princess, and the strange things happening to her were not some embarrassing habit or mysterious illness but the first signs of her own story finally revealing itself. The realization left her stunned, but it also brought an unexpected sense of relief. Her friends celebrated around her, and Ramona cheered too, apparently because everyone else was cheering and it sounded like something good.
Justine remembered the wolf’s expression as she tried to understand what had just happened.
“Congrats on being the… what was it? Tenth? Dancing princess? Whatever that means.”
The memory still made Justine giggle. Ramona genuinely had no idea what she was talking about, it was almost endearing. The future Bad Wolf had spent so much of her life being associated with fairy tales that Justine had assumed she must know all of them, but apparently the wolf had never heard of the 12 Dancing Princesses at all. She didn’t know what the title meant, what it involved, or why everyone else seemed so excited. She simply saw that Justine had discovered something important about herself and decided to be happy for her.
Justine never confronted Ramona about the sleep-dancing.
She wasn’t even entirely certain that her assumption was correct, despite everything she had begun remembering. There were little fragments in her mind now, moments between consciousness and sleep when she had felt something nearby, not threatening, not predatory, but watchful. She remembered the sensation of being observed while she danced, yet somehow she had never felt afraid.
Looking back, she realized that on the mornings when she woke exhausted, Ramona often seemed tired too. The wolf would sometimes sit quietly with a cup of something warm, eyes slightly narrowed, as though she had not slept as much as she claimed she did.
Justine began asking herself whether Ramona had been awake during those nights. She wondered why she had never told anyone or why she had never exposed her. And the more she thought about it, the more embarrassed she became by her own suspicion.
The spell that kept Justine unknowing wouldn’t stop the werewolf from speaking behind her back, which meant that Ramona had known about something deeply personal and potentially humiliating, and instead of using it against her, she had kept quiet. She had even been blamed for the shoes and taken it without offense. Justine felt guilty about that, especially because she had been cautious around Ramona from the very beginning, and even more so because she had allowed herself to suspect the one person who had apparently been making sure she didn’t hurt herself while wandering through the castle at night. She had to apologize.
Ramona listened without interrupting, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable, but when Justine finished, she gave a genuine nod of understanding. There was no accusation, no demand that Justine explain herself, and no attempt to make her feel worse. Ramona simply accepted the apology.
That made Justine feel even more guilty. But it also made her wonder why she cared.
She certainly wasn’t the monster everyone insisted she was going to become, but did Ramona believe that herself? Maybe Justine’s sleep-dancing had woken her often enough that she had decided to keep watch rather than deal with the interruption or maybe the wolf had simply been curious.
Whatever the reason, Justine couldn’t forget it.
She began making small attempts to know Ramona better.
At first, Ramona gave her almost nothing. Justine would ask about her day and receive a shrug, ask whether she had eaten and get a sarcastic remark, or attempt to start a conversation only to be met with a scoff. Justine could tell that Ramona had formed an opinion of her long before she had given her a chance to prove otherwise; to Ramona, Justine was probably another prissy princess with too many rules and too little understanding of the world outside the castle. The assumption annoyed Justine more than she wanted to admit, but instead of retreating, she was determined to prove Ramona wrong.
She would leave homework answers where Ramona could find them without having to ask, because she knew perfectly well that the wolf’s grades were terrible and suspected that pride was the only thing preventing her from admitting she needed help. She would clean a little of Ramona’s side of the mirror when they were getting ready, knowing that Ramona would probably complain if she noticed but would never actually stop her. She asked about the forest, about running, about what Ramona did when she wasn’t at school, and although the answers were initially short and dismissive, they slowly became longer. Ramona began telling her which streams were her favorite, which trails were safest after rain, where the best places to run were, and how she could tell when a storm was coming before the clouds appeared. The girl everyone called wild was remarkably ardent when explaining something she loved.
Eventually, Ramona began asking questions back. That tiny exchange of curiosity became something Justine treasured more than she would have admitted. They still weren’t friends, at least not in the way Justine understood friendship, but she no longer felt like she was sharing a room with someone dangerous. By the time their short break arrived, Justine had become accustomed to the wolf’s presence.
So when she returned to the castle midway through the break to collect schedules, enroll for another year, and choose her fourth-year roommate, she found herself looking for Ramona almost immediately. The castle was quieter than usual, and the students who had already returned were scattered through the halls, but Justine spotted her easily. Ramona was tall, unmistakable even from a distance, with her long hair falling nearly to her knees as she walked through the corridor with the same effortless confidence she seemed to carry everywhere.
Justine’s stomach fluttered nervously.
She knew they weren’t friends. They had become acquainted, perhaps, and there was a small sense of trust between them, but asking someone to share a room for another year felt different now.
What if Ramona thought she was being presumptuous? What if she had already chosen someone else? What if the girl laughed?
Justine nearly walked past her.
But she stopped and asked anyway.
Ramona looked at her for a moment, apparently considering the question, and then simply agreed. She didn’t ask why, didn’t tease her, and didn’t seem particularly surprised.
Justine was relieved enough that she nearly laughed.
Now, months later, at the beginning of their fourth year, Justine stood quietly in their new dormitory and looked across the room at the empty space that would soon belong to Ramona again, finding it amusing that she had once stood outside a bedroom door with her heart pounding simply because she was about to share a room with a wolf.
The space already felt strangely familiar despite Ramona not being there yet, because Justine could remember exactly what her side of the room had looked like throughout the previous year; soft blankets were always piled messily across the bed, arranged without much concern for neatness but somehow making the whole corner look warmer, while the complete absence of pillows remained one of the strangest things about her sleeping habits. Candles had been scattered around wherever Ramona found a safe place for them, their little flames casting a warm glow over the darker corners of the room at night, and a dreamcatcher had hung quietly above her bed, swaying whenever the window was open. Hairbrushes had a tendency to appear in the most unexpected places, along with hair ties, pieces of jewelry, boots, jackets, and the occasional bit of forest debris that she had never figured out how to explain.
None of it should have looked particularly comforting, especially when paired with the unmistakably wild habits of the girl who lived there, yet somehow Ramona’s side of the room had always felt lived-in and warm, as if a small piece of the forest had followed her indoors and learned how to make itself comfortable. Looking at the empty bed now, Justine realized how much that familiar mess had become part of the room itself, and how strange it was that she had once been frightened by the thought of having it there at all.
She unpacked slowly, arranging her things with careful precision that came naturally to her, and by the time Ramona finally arrived, Justine had nearly finished. The door opened, and there she was, carrying her bag over one shoulder, her hair falling in a long dark curtain behind her. Ramona looked more sculpted and mature than she had the previous year, although Justine wasn’t sure whether that was because of the time that had passed or because she was beginning to see her differently.
“Hello,” Justine smiled.
Ramona glanced over her shoulder, “Hey.”
It was simple, almost painfully so, but it was definitely easier than their first greeting had been.
They unpacked in silence for a while, each occasionally moving around the other without needing to apologize or ask permission. Eventually,
Justine found herself wanting to know what Ramona had done during the break, although she wasn’t sure whether the question would be welcomed.
“How was your summer?” She ventured.
Ramona shrugged as she folded one of her blankets and placed it over the bed. “Fine. Ran around, got bored n came back.”
Justine smiled. She was tempted to ask more, but instead she offered a similarly vague answer about spending time with her family, dancing, and enjoying the little bit of free time they had before school began again. Ramona didn’t ask further either, and Justine found that she didn’t mind. There would be time.
That night, when the room finally grew quiet, Justine climbed into bed and pulled the blankets around herself. She could hear Ramona moving around on the other side of the room, and for a moment she wondered whether the wolf was already listening to her breathing, noticing every little movement as she did with everything else. Justine deliberately kept her eyes closed. She had no desire to stare at Ramona while she slept and make herself feel strange about it, especially knowing that those sharp ears would probably catch even the slightest shift of attention.
So she simply lay there. The castle was quiet around them, moonlight slipping through the windows and leaving pale shapes across the floor. Justine felt the familiar pull of sleep beginning to settle over her, but before she drifted off, she found herself thinking about the year ahead.
She didn’t know what they would become to one another. She didn’t know whether they would ever really be friends, or whether Ramona would eventually grow tired of her questions and her attempts at conversation. She didn’t know what secrets the new school year would uncover, or what strange things might happen now that her own destiny had finally revealed itself.
But for the first time, Justine wasn’t afraid of the girl sleeping across the room, she was curious about her truth.
And, perhaps more surprisingly, she really was looking forward to truly knowing her.