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Chapter Text

An enchanted dove perched above the arched doorway of the Great Hall, repeating at the line of students walking single-file to the castle terrace outside: “Welcome to your Legacy Day ceremony. Please watch your step—coo.”

The students passed under the dove—some tripped on the step—and the line continued on to the pedestal that overlooked rows and rows of gilded chairs filled with an eager crowd. Beyond them, past the rocky ravine and reaching into the twilight sky, sprawled the Enchanted Forest, which twinkled with bright trails of fairies; and farther beyond that loomed the Dark Forest, which stirred in the silence of eternal night.

Resplendent in a golden headdress and modest white gown, Headmistress Rhea glided to the podium at the front of the pedestal and smiled down at the audience below.

She raised the Storybook of Legends for all to see. Sparks of magic hung on its gold-embossed cover, at the corners of its countless pages. The audience beheld it in hushed awe.

“Today is the most important day at Ever After High,” she said—“indeed, the most important day in all of Fódlan.”

The audience cheered.

She turned to face the line of students prepared to ascend the stairs behind her. They were dressed in their Legacy Day outfits, looking as if they could step into their stories at any moment. Beautiful ball gowns, regal prince suits, and dripping mermaid dresses glimmered in the light of the setting sun.

“This year, Legacy Day is your day,” she told them. “Today you take the first step in claiming your glorious fairytale legacies. Once you sign the Storybook of Legends, you are bound to your parent’s story. You will relive it.” She paused, the smile in her eyes dimming for one split second before she went on, “In this way, your story, your legacy—and your very life—will be preserved.”

She lowered the book and stepped away.

One by one they came, to climb the stairs and open the book to a page with a dotted line that awaited their signature, each face magnified by the mirror screens mounted around the pedestal. The first was the fair-haired daughter of the Snow Queen. She signed with a snowflake-shaped flourish at the end of her name. After her, the son of the Dark Fairy stepped forward, the black cloak draped over his shoulders shifting as jagged, discolored wings twitched on his back. He signed, expression stiff, then brushed past the student behind him, an elegant girl who pledged with shaky hand to be the next Odette. A single bitter tear fell and smudged the ink on her page.

Headmistress Rhea watched, hands clasped, mouth firm. Viewers all over Fódlan watched on the screens of their mirror devices. The audience on the terrace, composed of students and staff alike, watched, with cheers for the new generation of heroes—and bated silence for the next class of villains.

Two among them watched more closely than the rest, seated side by side but nine worlds apart in their minds. One leaned back, as if afraid to get too close. The other sat forward, as if yearning for his chance to sign.

This day next year, they both knew, would be their Legacy Day. But what they did not know was that one’s choice would change the land of Fódlan, and the future of all Happily Ever Afters, forever after.

Chapter Text

Once upon a new school year, Edelgard Queen marched through the deepest, darkest dungeons of her home castle and pretended that she was prepared for a conversation with her mother.

She was aware that most high schoolers this time of year bade their parents farewell in person, often with hugs and tears and promises to call. Sometimes there were surprise animal sidekicks as presents. At least, that was what Petra had told her when she’d asked, and the daughter of Pinocchio never lied.

That meant Edelgard was the only girl in Fódlan who got to hike down to her family’s basement once a year to have a fifteen-minute chat with her mom in a mirror. Which was not altogether too strange when considering that she was also the only girl in Fódlan with Her for a mom. 

The gargoyle statues lining the halls stared at her in appraisal as she strode past. One’s head turned to follow her movement—she barely stopped herself from jumping back. Her teeth clenched in irritation at her mother’s love for creepy things and at hearing nothing but her own heartbeat and the slap of her flip-flops on cold stone floors.

She should have worn different shoes. It was chilly down here.

An eternity passed before she stood in front of the mirror in the room at the end of the dungeon hall. She frowned at her reflection in the glass, cleared her throat, and said: “Mirror, mirror… please show me my mother.”

A flash of red rippled over the glass, dyeing her snowy hair the color of blood. Then it pulsed green and blanked out.

Edelgard took a breath and a step back.

Her mother appeared before her, a tall and ghostly specter in the dim and dusty room. Even locked away without access to her powers in the tightest security system in Fódlan, likely the most bored human alive for the past decade or so, even without having seen the sun in years, She was beautiful.

The abundance of curls piled atop her head had not seen magic (or hair dye) in so long that it had faded back to its natural colorless hue, the same silvery white as the locks that hung straight down Edelgard’s back. Her skin was smooth and fair, as if she hadn’t aged a day in the four years she’d spent in Mirror Prison. All too much of her face was merely an older, sharper version of Edelgard’s own features—the brows, the nose, the lips, and most of all the large, curious violet eyes. In those of the mother, however, there burned a flame that Edelgard had learned was wise to be wary of, even just a little.

“El!” the Evil Queen cried, leaning in for a closer look. “My little bird has all grown up! Tell me, did you say ‘please’ to the mirror when you called just now? I do hope you’ve outgrown that habit.”

Edelgard took another deep breath. “Hello, Mother.”

“So that’s a yes?”

“It is only a mirror.”

“Exactly! Don’t waste your manners on it. Or on anyone else, for that matter. Now is it me, or have you gotten thinner since I saw you last? Hasn’t that fool of a man I married been feeding you enough?”

Edelgard flinched, as she always did whenever her mother insulted her father. “Of course he has. I do live here.”

“Oh, that’s right, summer has just ended for you.” A smile of pure delight spread across her face. “It’s your Legacy Year already! Look how far you’ve come.”

“I hardly did anything,” Edelgard said, and she hadn’t, really. That scared, shivering girl in her mother’s empty throne room was only standing tall today because of her father. But it wasn’t in-character for the Evil Queen to much understand the Good King.

The Queen laughed. Not the horrible, nefarious laugh that would send even the rats scurrying away for dear life, but the softer, almost gentle one Edelgard had only ever heard when the two of them were alone. “Modesty becomes you, dear girl,” she said, “but you should learn to take a compliment on the chin. Wear it with pride.”

This was the part of their conversations that Edelgard never enjoyed—the “you could make a better villain” part.

“This is your Legacy Year, after all.” Yes, everyone was very excited for her to finally commit to a life of dastardly deeds this year. Everyone except her.

“I don’t feel quite ready for it yet,” she said.

The Queen’s eyebrows rose. 

“It seems like everyone is always telling me what to do,” Edelgard added quickly. “I do not like it.”

Her mother shrugged. “You are my daughter, after all. A Queen is supposed to break the rules. Those goody two-shoes at your school need to know how to handle a little chaos.”

“Mother.”

“I’m just saying. That Snow White brat especially—how’s he ever going to make a decent ruler without facing a decent disaster or two or three? Make them shake in their boots for me, won’t you? And be sure to send pictures; it gets awfully boring in here.”

Edelgard exhaled. “I would text you every day if I could, Mother, but not if the only thing you’d talk about is our fairytale.”

The Queen leaned back. “Ha! I like that attitude. Keep it!” She reached up to adjust a curl that had fallen—gracefully—from her updo. “I don’t care a whit about your destiny, darling—we did inherit just about the blandest story in existence. But you’re the daughter of an Evil Queen. I know you’ll do much greater things than that, and you’ll make your mama proud.” 

That’s the problem, Edelgard thought. I’m not sure I want to.

She smiled. She looked a lot like Edelgard when she smiled. “Anything that puts a white streak in Rhea Grimm’s disgusting green hair is quite pleasing to me. And she deserves it after keeping me from you all these years.”

Edelgard smiled too, at the floor, but not for the same reason. What wouldn’t she give to be five again, nestled safe and warm in her mother’s lap, hiding her face in the Queen’s shoulder so she couldn’t see the hideous creatures under their command? In those days, she didn’t have to worry about what she’d become. 

Her hair had been brown back then, before her mother’s magic had cost her even that.

The Queen’s tone turned longing. “I miss you so much, my little bird. You have no idea how much I wish I could be with you right now.”

“I… I miss you too, Mom.” Edelgard’s voice cracked at the end, slightly. 

She hated how she wanted her mother back. The one person who could truly understand the darkness inside her was far, far away, forever unreachable. Untouchable.

But this was for the best. It was all for the best.

“You go on and show them for me, then. Don’t let anything, anyone, stand in your way.” The Evil Queen leaned in so close that Edelgard could count the dark flecks in her violet eyes. “And give ‘em hex, Edelgard.”

“Mother,” said Edelgard, because she didn’t know how to say no to that, “of course I will.”

∞

Edelgard hated mirror travel.

To be honest, she didn’t really care for mirrors in general—they got old fast when your mom owned a whole collection the size of an ogre’s cave. But most technology depended on them these days, so she couldn’t complain.

But traveling through them? The. Worst.

As soon as she stepped onto the stairs that led to the front doors of Ever After High, her knees buckled and she nearly pitched over the side. A tiny pixie resting on the bushes beneath shrieked and vanished in a shower of dust, which stuck to her hair and clothes as if a leprechaun had dumped a pot of gold glitter over her. Stifling a groan, she dragged herself and her unwieldy leather suitcase the rest of the way up the stairs. Her stomach was rolling like the Seven Seas.

She reached the front doors and lost the motivation to continue.

Before her rose Ever After High, a castle twice the size of her home and a hundredfold brighter and sunnier. The headmistress’s favorite doves were perched on the tower roofs, balconies, window ledges, everywhere, but they scattered at the sight of her. A squirrel with a miniature satchel peeked out from behind a curtain of ivy on a wall; it disappeared with a squeak upon catching her eye. She peered up at the sky, which was turning grey. She’d have to pay a visit to whichever sorry fairy was playing with the clouds today.

“Curses,” she muttered. That was what her mother would do.

Shaking her head, she strode forward and pushed the double doors open.

Three Little Piggies stood before her, frozen in shock, their snouts not so much as twitching. Three pairs of beady eyes gazed up at her in perfect stillness.

“Um,” she said. “Excuse me?”

They squealed and scattered, in three different directions. And at that moment the sky found it fitting to illuminate the whole school with a flash of lightning, release a monstrous clap of thunder, and burst open with rain.

Edelgard yanked her suitcase inside and kicked the doors shut—right in the face of a wide-eyed fellow student. Cursing again, she flung them back open. Said student could be seen fleeing down the castle steps.

Oh well. It’d stop raining soon enough.

She turned around to see a main hall full of students staring at her in silence.

Why did this happen every time she walked in through the front door?

Then— Bam! She jumped aside. “Wh—”

“Edelgard Queen,” said the scraggly, ashen-haired lady on the floating carpet that had suddenly materialized next to her, “welcome back to school.”

“Baba Yaga?” Edelgard tried not to notice that the remainder of students in the hallway had all fled too. Not unexpected, as the dark sorceresses’ advisor had quite the fearsome reputation… but so much for a quiet arrival.

The old witch shook a weathered-looking scroll in her face. “Your schedule for this term. No switching.”

Edelgard took it and frowned. “No switching?” She read through the list—General Villainy, Chemythstry, Tall Tales… “I have Science and Sorcery this year.”

“Yes, last year you signed up for Muse-ic and Arts and Crafts. Headmistress Rhea thinks it best you take your future more seriously this year.” Baba Yaga sniffed. “Better than wasting your time on learning to sing princess power ballads on demand.”

“But I am a princess, technically,” said Edelgard, propping one hand on her hip. “And don’t villains sing power anthems too?”

Not that she particularly cared for music. She just didn’t want to take a class that would cover basic stuff she’d already learned from her mother.

“Professor Piper says you have no need to take it again.”

“Then how about…” Edelgard glanced at her class list. “Housekeeping? Riddling? Storytelling 101?”

“If you really want to change a class this year, Ms. Queen, I suggest you take that up with the headmistress herself.” With that, Baba Yaga disappeared with another puff of smoke.

Edelgard clenched her teeth and turned to make her way to the girls’ dorms. Maybe if she was extra good this term, Rhea would allow her to change a course the next. Or perhaps she was supposed to be extra bad? What exactly would make that woman happy, anyway?

The trek to the dorm towers gave her ample time to think and dismiss every possibility that came to mind. By the time she reached the tower for Legacy Year students, she had resigned herself to a long term of suffering under Ms. Wicked Witch.

The princesses giggling inside the Royal Common Room fell quiet as she passed. She ignored the sting it brought; as she’d argued, she was technically a princess, but last year her time in that wing of the school had proven it was a mistake to think that way. Acceptance wouldn’t come any time soon from girls who had whispered behind her back since nursery-rhyme school. So last semester she had requested to move in to the Commoners’ wing, which made one decision the headmistress had agreed to without protest.

She stopped in front of the door to what would be her new dorm room. A plaque on the wall next to it read EDELGARD QUEEN & BERNADETTA HOOD. She didn’t know Bernadetta well—didn’t know if anyone here did, the girl was so skittish.

Rooming together here for the next nine months meant that she couldn’t run from Edelgard every time they made eye contact, right?

She sighed and opened the door. This was going to be a long year.

Chapter Text

Huge crowds of adoring subjects were everyday spectacles in White Kingdom, but today’s was bigger than usual. Dimitri’s ears rang as he strode down the palace steps, but he obliged them with a restrained smile and wave. They only cheered louder.

A carriage drawn by magnificent white horses awaited him at the bottom of the stairs, along with his parents. They made a wonderfully regal pair, straight out of a painting in the royal portrait gallery. His father stood taller than most men in the kingdom, one hand resting on the hilt of his ever-present sword—which he was truly excellent at using, though he’d never had the chance to showcase those skills in the story for which he was famed. Beside him, of course, was Dimitri’s mother, the one and only Fairest of Them All, her curled ebony tresses, ivory skin, and red-lipped smile still as lovely as it had ever been.

“Today is the day,” she said. Her voice was high-pitched, somewhat squeaky from perhaps too many years in the forest with only woodland creatures for company. The corners of her doe-brown eyes crinkled as she looked up at him. “I know you’ll make us proud, son.”

“You already have,” said the king, from her side.

Dimitri bowed his head. “I will do my best as always.”

He started at the light touch of his mother’s hand on his shoulder. She gave it a gentle squeeze—a silent reminder that he knew all too well. The fingers of his right hand, the one he used to wield a sword or lance, flexed and curled into a fist. “You needn’t worry over me, Mother,” he said with a reassuring smile. “I’m well-prepared for Legacy Year.”

He’d been preparing his entire life. He’d already bungled it once, and once was enough.

“I’m not at all worried.” She patted his cheek. “You’ll be perfect, Dimitri. You always have been.”

Some members of the crowd must have heard her last words, for they sent up another round of cheers in agreement.

Dimitri laughed and opened the carriage door, which a nearby dwarf had been about to do for him. “Oh! My apologies, Pouty.”

“My name is Frank,” said the dwarf with a pout.

Dimitri only laughed again. The dwarf failed to maintain his frown, for who could frown while looking at Dimitri White?

“He will indeed be perfect,” someone in the crowd whispered.

“Yes, such a beautiful child, with such a regal demeanor. A more perfect Prince White there could never be!”

“But he is a boy. It’s been generations since we had a role reversal in this story.”

And here it came. Dimitri slid into his carriage seat, but the murmurs crept in through the open window.

“Oh, who cares? It’s happened plenty of times before. And it’s common enough in other stories.”

“The real problem is his hair. Has there ever been a blond Snow White?”

From outside the carriage, his father threw him a very unregal grin. Against all odds, the blond hair and blue eyes had come from his side.

Dimitri couldn’t for the life of him understand why having blond hair was an obstruction to his fairytale. Shouldn’t these people be more concerned about whether or not he actually held their best interests at heart? Or had centuries of perfect Snow Whites completely erased the possibility of an incompetent ruler from their minds?

Either way, it was better than their knowing the truth. As the Hybrid Carriage drove off and left his joyful citizens behind, Dimitri gripped the MirrorPhone in his hand so tight the case cracked.

Again.

He winced. He’d have to buy a new one at the village of Book End once he arrived. Or maybe he should ask Ingrid to weave one for him out of her hair, as an early birthday present? But she’d only lecture him to be more careful, which wouldn’t help.

His phone dinged with a message from Ingrid herself. He unlocked the screen and checked the group chat from which it came, inwardly weighing the pros and cons of a phone case made of hair.

No, that was just too weird. She would be rightfully appalled by such a suggestion.

THREE HAPPY FROGS AND A BEAR

INGRID O’HAIR: Where r u guys? Im all alone

INGRID O’HAIR: w Lorenz hearts as company

S.CROAKINGTON3: lol do u miss me or sth?

INGRID O’HAIR IS TYPING…

Dimitri watched in amusement as the three dots continued to roll over the bottom of the screen. Then,

S.CROAKINGTON3: k I’m sry plz don’t throw me under the troll bridge again

S.CROAKINGTON3: im almost there

INGRID O’HAIR: i think even the bridge troll would agree, sylvain, that ur not worth the toll

DIMITRI: I’ll be there in a few short hours

INGRID O’HAIR: alright, charm u later!

S.CROAKINGTON3: do u know how weird it is when u say that lol

INGRID O’HAIR IS TYPING…

S.CROAKINGTON3: kkkk ill stop now

Dimitri turned his phone off and examined the crack on the cover—one jagged line that fissured off into to the side, a very noticeable imperfection. It was a wonder that the phone itself was still functioning.

He laid it down next to him, screen-up, and gazed out the window, his posture ramrod-straight, until he fell asleep.

∞

It had just stopped raining when Dimitri stepped out of the carriage. He stretched his too-long, too-cramped limbs and made to open the luggage compartment, but not-Pouty the dwarf beat him to it.

“You go inside,” he said with a disdainful sniff. “Me and the birds’ll handle it.”

“Are you certain?” Dimitri pulled back as a flock of doves fluttered down from nowhere and set about to assist the dwarf.

Not-Pouty yanked a thumb at the school entrance. “Sure I’m certain. No heavy labor for you, the queen said. Go on now.”

A few trunks were not what Dimitri would call heavy labor, but he knew better than to argue with a dwarf. He bid not-Pouty farewell and climbed the front stairs, feeling very empty-handed. A bunny hopped up the steps behind him, and a pixie floated up from the bushes over the side to offer him a shy wave. She swooned back into a cloud of glittery dust when he smiled in return.

The moment he opened the double doors, a ray of sunlight parted the clouds overhead and shone down upon him. Doves and bluebirds flew down from the rafters, one alighting on his shoulder, which made him freeze in the doorway as more woodland animals joined the bunny at his feet and a main hall full of students erupted in a buzz of excitement.

“Oh my fairy godmothers! It’s Prince Dimitri!”

“That’s really him? He’s taller than I imagined!”

“He smiled at me once. I swear, he looked right at me and smiled.”

A professor down the hall opened her classroom door to see what all the fuss was about. “Oh, it’s Mr. White. Welcome back, honey!”

The bird on Dimitri’s shoulder flapped away as he was swallowed by yet another crowd of adoring subjects, though this time they were not even his own. He smiled and greeted them all and tried to take a step forward, to no avail.

As if summoned by the winds, four figures swept in from four different directions and cleared a path around him.

“Took you long enough,” Ingrid said from his left. “I’ve been stuck with the toad for the better half of an hour. Shall we all take a stroll down to the troll bridge later?” She flicked her long golden braid over one shoulder and glared at Sylvain, who sauntered along on Dimitri’s right.

The son of the Frog King, whose full name, it must be noted, was Sylvain Hopper Croakington III, folded his arms behind his head and said blithely, “You’d never do such an unchivalrous thing, Ing. Especially not in the presence of so many innocent ladies.” He threw a wink at a gaggle of girls nearby.

“They’ll do it themselves once they realize who you are inside,” said Ingrid.

He smiled easily. “Who I am inside? It’s not my fault the only way to turn a frog back into a man is a kiss from a beautiful princess.”

From behind Dimitri, the towering son of the Huntsman said, “Or you could hurl it against a wall.” The squirrel on his broad shoulder chattered in agreement, pulled an acorn from its satchel, and chucked it at Sylvain.

“Ow! Dedue, control your pet!” Sylvain rubbed the back of his head with a pout that reminded Dimitri of his dwarf friend.

Right, the dwarf! Dimitri remembered he was heading for the dorms.

“Don’t fight, you guys,” Annette, the petite daughter of Cinderella walking in front of Dimitri, chided with a stern frown. “Behave yourself, Pesky,” she told Dedue’s squirrel, who crossed its furry little arms (?) and looked away.

“Where’s Felix?” Dimitri asked his friends as they passed the Three Little Piggies, who were rooted by the lockers watching them in awe. “He isn’t my roommate again, is he?”

Sylvain scoffed. “Nah, he’s with me. Count yourself lucky.”

“Ah, that’s good. It’s a miracle he didn’t skewer me in my sleep last year. There were several close calls.”

“The Charmings were held up by a dragon at Carabas Harbor,” said Ingrid. She held up her MirrorPhone, which was encased with a plain but unbroken mint-green cover. “I got him to send a photo.”

“Aw, curses,” Sylvain lamented, “I bet he’ll arrive covered in dragon blood and scare off any potential dates for Hilda’s book-to-school party.”

“It’s not a ball,” said Annette. “No one will be bringing dates, Sylvain. And don’t be so mean to Felix.”

Dimitri stopped walking in front of the door to the boys’ dorms. “Well, I’ll be going on ahead…”

“Oh, oops! We followed you all the way here!” Annette laughed merrily and pulled Sylvain to the side. “We’re like your personal guard now that you’re in high school, Dimitri.”

“I have an appointment at the salon at three,” said Ingrid. “Do you need anything from the village?”

That girl had a sixth sense for this sort of thing. “A new phone case?”

She raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“I’ll see you all at dinner,” Dimitri said sheepishly and headed into the hall.

“Charm you later,” said Sylvain, earning him a whack from Ingrid. “Ow! I’m sorry, okay? No need to get physical!”

His complaints echoed into the distance as Dimitri searched for the room with his name on the plaque. It was the very last one on the right side, labeled DIMITRI WHITE & CLAUDE LIDDELL.

Well, that would be interesting. Even though it was a relief to not be rooming with someone who hated his guts, Dimitri wondered if rooming with a near stranger might be more stressful. He knew as well as anyone how difficult it was to hide something from a Wonderlandian…

No sooner had he stepped inside than something—someone—crashed straight through the wall, scaring away a pair of doves that had been industriously hanging blue and gold ribbons on the ceiling. Dimitri turned slowly and stared at the boy who now hopped through a newly-formed, human-shaped hole.

“Well!” said the cheery voice of Claude Liddell as he dusted off his hands, “that was unexpected.”

Chapter Text

“How… how did you do that?” Dimitri gaped at his new roommate. And at the hole in the wall, where the dust had now cleared to reveal the open terrace beyond the other side of their room.

Claude flicked stone dust from his disheveled dark hair, now stained an ashy grey. “My guess is as good as yours.”

Dimitri only stared.

“I don’t know; sometimes you just never imagine something works this way ‘til you try it that way.” Claude patted the pockets of his sunshine-yellow jacket and pulled out a piece of candy in a sparkly pink wrapper. “Want an invisible taffy?”

“No, thank you.”

“Yeah, I dunno where that came from.” He drew from his other pocket a dormouse, curled up asleep around a pocket-watch. “Ah, there you are.”

Dimitri watched as the son of Alice laid the dormouse on a tea tray on a writing desk. It was then that he realized his half of the room was the one now covered in what used to be the wall.

He should be annoyed, but instead an odd combination of hope and dread stirred inside him. If his new roommate had a tendency to be destructive too, then maybe—

Claude looked up, one eyebrow arching. “Huh?”

Dimitri started. “Huh?”

“Did you hear that?” Claude tilted his head, green eyes narrowing like a cat’s. “When did you get a talking pet?”

Dimitri looked around. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean…”

“Okay, just checking.” Claude returned to pouring a cup of tea. “I thought I heard a voice saying I was destructive or something.”

I didn’t say you were destructive. I was only stating that Dimitri—huh?

“Dimitri what? Was Dimitri thinking I have destructive tendencies?”

Huh??

“I see you are as confused as I am.” Claude leaned against his writing desk, taking a sip of his tea.

Did he just—how did he—he just broke the fourth wall!

Claude glanced at the hole where Dimitri’s desk had been supposed to go. “I did break a wall.” He turned to Dimitri. “That was supposed to be for your desk? I’m sorry. Maybe the Voice can tell me how to fix it.”

No, I—what did you call me? I am the Narrator, not some random voice! And you are not supposed to hear me!

“Ooh, I get it now.” Claude turned back to Dimitri. “Basically, whenever I’m around you, I can now hear your thoughts.”

What?

“What?” said Dimitri, in an understandable mix of shock and bewilderment.

This is getting out of hand. It’s about time to get back to Edelgard and the Rebel side, anyway. Narrator out.

“Whoa, whoa, wait! Edelgard and the what now? The Rebels did you say? What, is she starting an army now or something?”

No! Well, maybe—I mean, I don’t know! Forget I said anything!

“What is going on?” Dimitri asked as the Narrator panicked and searched for a way to close the chapter immediately.

Claude only shrugged a shoulder. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Tea?”

Chapter Text

The Castleteria was one of the few places on school grounds big enough that people could carry on as normal even with the daughter of the Greatest Evil There Ever Was in their midst. But the number of students who had already made it back today was still small enough that Edelgard did not see any of her friends among them.

She did, however, spot her roommate hunched over a table near one of the pillars near in the back. Her unmistakable scarlet cloak blended into the shadows, but no one knew the shadows better than Edelgard.

“My,” she said as she set her tray down across from the hooded girl, “you must really like sausages.”

Bernadetta gave such a violent start that the fork on her tray clattered off the table. From under her fringe of purple hair, a pair of huge round eyes darted from the sausages on her plate to Edelgard to the floor-to-ceiling windows behind them. “N-no I don’t! I just don’t like vegetables is all! I-I mean—”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Brow furrowed, Edelgard picked up her tray again. “I can leave if you wish.”

“No—no, I should be the sorry one! I’ll leave, Your Highness!” She sprang to her feet, her hood falling back a bit. “Or would you rather I call you Your Majesty? Your Most Wicked Ladyship?”

Edelgard blinked. “Edelgard is fine.”

“R-really? You won’t, like, turn me into a toad for insubordination?”

“Hey!” said Sylvain Hopper Croakington III, who was passing by.

Edelgard shook her head. “You’re not one of my subordinates. Why should I punish you?”

“Oh. I… I guess you do have a point there.” Bernadetta’s tense shoulders relaxed slightly. She reached up as if to adjust her hood, then froze. “Oh no! I have to go!” Yanking it back down, she dashed off with a speed that would make Coach Gingerbread proud. Edelgard thought she heard her muttering something about ears.

Well. That was nice as mice. With a sigh, Edelgard sank onto the empty bench and stabbed a fork into her salad. The Castleteria was filled with the clink of dishes and the chatter of students both new and returning. She had sort of missed being a part of them. But it seemed that things here, everyone’s apprehension of her, would be getting worse every day they drew closer to Legacy Day.

A shiver passed through her, even though it was warm enough that she’d worn a short-sleeved top and knee-length skirt today. She didn’t want to think about Legacy Day, but as Hubert had said, there was no facing the future without a plan.

Even if your future was one that would end in your untimely demise.

“I’m sorry, excuse me.”

Edelgard glanced up, just as a tray of empty plates crashed to the floor by her table. Glass shattered around her feet, spilling water on her bare toes. She shifted one sandal back in surprise.

A girl with wavy chestnut hair stepped back before the water could touch the heels of her boots. A vexed look flickered across her face. “Please forgive me.” Edelgard didn’t recognize her; her voice was unusually musical, like a fairy’s.

“I beg your pardon!” exclaimed another voice, and this one Edelgard knew all too well. “You are not hurt, miss?”

“Uh… no,” the girl said flatly. She bent down to clean up her mess.

“Please, allow me!” Ferdinand V.A. Cupid, the son of Eros, who for all his talk of greatness and gallantry still walked around with a pair of heavy wings that seldom made room for others, attempted to aid her with little success. She swept up all the broken dishes and glass fragments in record time and hurried off with her tray.

Ferdinand blinked at her retreating form, shrugged, and turned to catch sight of Edelgard. “Oh, hello! I see you have returned.”

“Yes.”

“I heard you made a very dramatic entrance earlier this afternoon.”

She leveled him with an unimpressed look. “Do you want something, Ferdinand?”

He smoothed back his orange hair—amber, he called it, but it was obviously orange. “To outdo you, of course. Mark my words, I will find a way to make an even better entrance, one that none in the entire student body can ignore! Until then, Edelgard Queen.” And he strode off, presumably to bother someone else.

There had been many occasions since nursery-rhyme when Edelgard had almost turned him into a toad, as encouraged by her mother, but she somehow managed to hold back. She did not intend to break that streak now. No matter how many times he challenged her to a cabbage-catapulting contest.

“Is anyone sitting here?”

Edelgard looked up again—at the last face she’d expected to see today. Usually the last face she expected to see hanging around, ever. The princely son of the Fairest of Them All, president of the Royal Student Council, and her destined enemy ever after smiled down at her as if they were the best of friends.

“No,” she said at last. He sat.

“I apologize for the sudden interruption…” He sat there like a king, the dying sunlight that streamed in from the windows his crown, his blue eyes light and warm and utterly free of guile.

“There is no interruption,” said Edelgard. She hadn’t really been doing anything.

“Did you have a good summer?”

He certainly was going out of his way to make conversation. He always did, but it reminded her too much of her father. “Yes, I did. You as well?”

“Yes, but it passed quickly. And now we are only a few weeks away from Legacy Day.”

Why was he telling her this? “Indeed.”

They stared at each other for a moment.

She picked up the firm green apple on the corner of her tray and held it out to him. “Are you not hungry? It feels impolite for me to eat alone.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Jumping ahead in our story a bit, aren’t we?”

“Oh. Of course,” she said dryly, hiding her embarrassment. She’d completely forgotten. “The sooner the better, right?”

He laughed, a deep and mellow sound that drew stares and whispers all around, and accepted her offering. “In truth, I’ve already eaten, but I’m afraid I can never turn down an apple.”

What a strange admission to make. Edelgard’s smile stuck on her face, stiffer than seven-days-old porridge. Her mother would be disgusted at how this boy was literally setting himself up.

Of course, he had the freedom to do that. He would be duly rewarded.

She dug into her salad again, and he munched on his apple. What, exactly, had he come here to do?

“I was wondering…” He was frowning. Edelgard had noticed that he frowned even more often than he smiled, which contrasted his sunshine-and-roses demeanor. “I hope you won’t mind my asking. Are you nervous, about what you’ll do? What we’ll do?”

The fork in her hand grew hot. She forced herself to calm down. “Perhaps. It… doesn’t end well for me, after all.”

He nodded. “I understand.”

The blood in her veins cooled. “You do?”

Their gazes locked. Dimitri’s forehead creased.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” he said slowly. “No one can fully understand another’s destiny. I simply think… Well, it must be normal to feel a little apprehensive sometimes, but the story will come through. That’s just the way it’s always been.”

“I know,” she said. She didn’t expect him to understand.

He opened his mouth, but before he could say another word Claude Liddell slid in next to him.

“Hullo!” he said with a brilliant grin, leaning forward on his elbows. “It’s like I’ve come home at last, seeing you two bickering again like old times.”

“We are not bickering,” Dimitri said patiently. “We’re simply having a discussion about—” He cut off as a sparkling white crescent materialized in the air on his other side, followed by the full form of Hilda Cheshire.

“Forget that,” she said with an airy wave. “You’re both coming to my book-to-school party tomorrow evening, right?”

“Of course,” said Dimitri.

Edelgard frowned. “Why?”

“Why not?” Hilda flipped one of her pale pink pigtails, not noticing when it narrowly missed Dimitri’s eye. “You have to come. Everyone has to come.”

“What she said.” Claude gave Edelgard a thumbs-up.

“Are you sure about that? It may become an awfully quiet party if I’m there.”

Hilda shook her head emphatically, and this time Dimitri leaned out of range of her long hair. “Don’t be ridiculous! I’ll just have Annette warn the songbirds ahead of time or something.”

“Or we can get bullfrogs from the swamp,” Claude suggested. “A couple toads too? Do toads sing?” He looked over at Sylvain Hopper Croakington III, who was passing by again.

“I’ll think about it,” Edelgard told Hilda, whose mighty scowl turned upside-down.

Claude jumped up. “All right! Our job here is done, Hilda. Let’s go bother that stuffy-looking crowd next.”

“Yep, yep,” she said and vanished with her signature grin. She reappeared the next moment at a table that erupted with shrieks of alarm.

Claude threw the other two a salute and went off after her.

The eccentrics gone, Edelgard stood with her empty tray. “If you’ll excuse me.” She could tell Dimitri wanted to talk further, but she didn’t want to make him think they were suddenly friends or something. He really seemed to like talking about his destiny—“their” destiny. She didn’t.

She didn’t plan on going to that party, either.

∞

“I am Dimitri White, son of Snow White, and I am ready to pledge my destiny.”

His voice exuded confidence and authority. Even standing there on the pedestal with a rulebook on the podium, dressed in his everyday clothes with only Headmistress Rhea, his classmates, and a dove or two as his audience, he could very well be signing the Storybook of Legends right now. The students gathered on the Legacy Day terrace seemed to agree, clapping with glee at his performance.

Edelgard lingered in the back, watching with arms crossed. Orientation Week had been tiresome thus far. It was only a half week, and almost over, but her classes had mostly been filled with Legacy Year lectures—except for Science and Sorcery, in which Ms. Wicked Witch had started them off with a basic hate spell that would’ve taken Edelgard five minutes if she hadn’t slowed down on purpose. And now, to top it all off, Headmistress Rhea had dragged the students outside for a Legacy Day rehearsal.

“Very good, Mr. White,” she was saying through her megaphone, with a rare smile. “Ms. Beanstalk?”

As Leonie Beanstalk practiced her pledge to be the next Jack (the one with the beanstalk), Edelgard’s friend Petra joined her at the bottom of the steps. Not a strand of her mulberry-colored hairdo was tousled by the same wind that toyed with Edelgard’s. She walked like a princess and despite her straightforward manner had more grace than most of the actual royalty at school. The main reason Edelgard had befriended her last year—despite the latter’s initial misgivings—was that she never responded harshly when other kids made fun of her wooden limbs and unique accent. Petra looked like an ordinary girl, but she was carved from pistachio wood, brought to life by the magic of the Blue Fairy and destined to someday become a real girl.

“Are you feeling nervous?” she asked. Her accent had lessened since they’d first met; she had been studying the language of Fódlan fairy hard and could read and write almost perfectly. Edelgard appreciated how, instead of making blunt observations, the daughter of Pinocchio often turned the truth she was compelled to tell into a question.

“How do you know?” said Edelgard.

Petra shrugged. “You are standing with less confidence than on most days. And you keep looking to the headmistress. That is showing plenty.”

“Hmm.” Edelgard tucked that information away and straightened a bit. “Yes, I suppose I am a little nervous. It’s silly; it’s only a rehearsal, but—”

“I am Ferdinand von Aegir Cupid, son of Eros, and I am ready to pledge my destiny!”

“He is being very loud today,” Petra noted. “Like all days.”

“Thank you,” Rhea told Ferdinand. “Mr. Charming, you’re up.”

All too soon it was Edelgard’s turn. She climbed the stairs to the podium, the wind blowing back her hair. Below, students clustered around in groups, laughing and talking; only a few still watched the rehearsal. Petra gave her a little wave.

Headmistress Rhea cleared her throat from where she stood in the center of the terrace, megaphone in hand. “You may begin, Ms. Queen.”

Edelgard nodded and spoke to the air above the rulebook. “My name is Edelgard Queen, and I pledge to be the next…” She looked down. “Headmistress. May I ask a question?”

“Ask.” She sounded patient, but her tranquil smile was strained.

“My mother did more than any of the Evil Queens before her.” Edelgard swallowed as the headmistress’s eyes narrowed a fraction. “What, exactly, is my destiny? To follow in her footsteps—does that mean I have to do everything she did? By signing the book, who do I…”

The chattering students had all stopped to watch as Headmistress Rhea made her way up the stairs. Edelgard’s hands fisted at her sides.

“Ms. Queen.” Rhea’s voice was gentle, almost motherly, but always as dignified as the rest of her. “It is your heart, your path, your choices that will lead you into your legacy. Whatever happens, it’s you who will make that story yours.” She smiled a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “There is no magic poof! moment that will make everything clear in an instant. You must discover your fate for yourself. But there are consequences, very immediate consequences, for those who stray off-script. I believe you know that better than anyone else here.”

Edelgard swallowed again. A lock of colorless hair fell over her forehead; she brushed it back, conscious of Rhea’s gaze tracking the whole movement.

“One choice can affect many, sometimes hundreds of lives, Ms. Queen,” Rhea said. Something in those benevolent green eyes reminded Edelgard of Her. “Make the right one.”

Edelgard forced a smile. “Of course.”

Chapter Text

Hero Training was held in the fields near the Enchanted Forest twice a week, but most sessions had the young princes running all over the surrounding area, often getting sidetracked by unforeseen circumstances—swamp trolls, misplaced dragons, malicious fairies, and the like. On last year’s first mission, Sylvain had gotten captured by a marsh witch, and they’d had to spend the rest of the morning rescuing him.

“I am glad to see you all made it here in time, Your Highnesses,” said Dr. King Charming once the princes had gathered on the field. His cutting blue eyes remained on constant guard despite his relaxed, even weary-looking form, always watching to make sure none of his students had fallen asleep in the saddle or suddenly turned into a frog. Dimitri had known the king since childhood—he was almost like a second father—and he could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen the man genuinely taken by surprise. “For our first quest of the year, we will be having a joint session with Madam Maid Marian’s Damsel-in-Distressing class.”

A combination of cheers and groans rose from the students. Dr. Charming silenced them with a look.

“Today’s mission is simple: rescue your assigned princess from one of the towers in the meadows behind the castle.” The doctor raised the MirrorPhone in his hand. “In many real-world situations, you will find yourself pressed to embark on a heroic deed with no steed, no armor, and—” he pointed the phone screen at the princes—“no sword! You have forty-five minutes.”

Those were the last words Dimitri heard before a bright blue beam shot out from the phone screen. He felt for a few seconds as if someone were shaking him by the shoulders very violently. Translocation apps—they could send people one way and had a shorter range than portal mirrors but left the user the same unpleasant side-effects.

As it was, Dr. Charming had to use one often, so Dimitri was almost accustomed to those side-effects. He allowed himself one or two deep, long breaths to settle the unsettled contents of his stomach, then opened his eyes.

Trees, floating fairy lights, and rings of cute toadstools comprised his new surroundings. He’d been translocated somewhere in the Enchanted Forest. Well, this would be easy. He put his fingers to his lips and whistled, long and clear—

Wait. Where was his assignment?

A flurry of flapping wings and trilling chirps alerted him to his small army of woodland friends. They stared at him, awaiting his orders, and he stared back, knowing they probably wouldn’t understand him. Animals loved princes and princesses alike, but only Cinderella’s daughter understood their language, and she was trapped up in a tower. He could simply ask them to lead him to the meadows and try to figure it out there, but that wasn’t the best course of action—there was no telling what details Dr. Charming might have left out of his announcement earlier.

One of the songbirds twittered at him, and Dimitri looked up to see a stag approach from the trees, stepping carefully to avoid the little critters scattered around the clearing. An unfurled roll of parchment hung from the arrow that lay between its antlers.

“Ah, thank you, friend!” Dimitri took the scroll with gratitude. He had never been thrilled by his connection with delicate wild animals, but at least this way he could save some time, which was truly of utmost importance in these missions.

On the parchment was written, in Dr. Charming’s bold hand: Prince Dimitri White, partner—Princess Marianne Beauty.

Dimitri nodded at the birds. “Lead the way, if you will. The fastest way to the meadow, please.”

As he followed them, he considered his assignment. Often the partnered missions required some teamwork, and he was ashamed to admit he didn’t know Marianne very well. When he smiled at her at dinner yesterday, she’d looked away with a frown.

The birds’ shortcut only cost him ten minutes, which made for excellent timing. Dimitri arrived at the meadows with boosted spirits.

Six four-story practice towers, made of glass, were arranged in a circle around the tower. Three teachers stood talking in the center—Dr. King Charming, astride his white horse, Madam Maid Marian in her distinctive blue cone hat, and a tall lady dressed in black and gold robes.

Dimitri paused. What was Dame Gothel doing here?

As if in answer to his question, the clash of steel drew his attention to a tower on his right. At its base, Felix was fighting a ginormous animated gingerbread man.

“Felix, where did you get that sword?” Dr. Charming shouted at him via megaphone.

His son struck the gingerbread man with a blow that sent it flying into pieces. “Is that all you got?” he yelled up at Lysithea Breadhouse—a student from Dame Gothel’s Imprisonment 101 class.

“How dare you!” she yelled back and sent a shower of peppermint candies down on him.

Dimitri made his way to the tower that held Marianne. He squinted up through the glass—there were two figures inside, but aside from the princess’s sky-blue hair, he could see nothing clearly.

From the tower on Dimitri’s left came a maidenly shriek. “It’s a frog!!” Poor Sylvain.

“Stand down, foul villain,” said Lorenz Hearts, facing a tower on the other side of the meadow. “Or off with your head!”

“No beheading, please!” said Dr. Charming. “And Prince Linhardt! You cannot nap while your princess is in danger!”

Linhardt had, indeed, collapsed in a heap inside the glass tower. His princess, however, was deep in conversation with her captor and didn’t seem to mind.

Dimitri frowned. How had Linhardt gotten up there in the first place? A quick glance around told him the other princes present were stuck trying to rescue their princesses from the ground, with the exception of Sylvain, who in frog form had climbed up the wall and was now pitifully hopping around in an attempt to dodge the fire balls being lobbed at him by his princess’s disgusted captor.

As the son of Sleeping Beauty, Linhardt dozed off far too often for propriety, but when he did he absorbed conversations beyond the normal hearing range. How likely was it that he’d overheard about a secret passageway upstairs?

It was worth a shot. Dimitri approached the tower and ran a hand over the smooth glass. He had almost walked a full circle around the tower before he noticed a tiny imperfection in the wall above him, shaped something like a crown. He pressed a thumb over it—careful not to apply too much pressure—and a section of the wall separated from it to reveal a hidden staircase.

Brilliant as always, Linhardt! With no time to spare, he jogged up the stairs.

A strange scene awaited him at the top. Two girls swiveled their heads toward him as he entered the tower room. Two identical Mariannes.

They stood side by side, neither quite meeting his gaze, hands clasped in the same position. Both wore expressions of absolute misery.

Ah. This was going to be harder than he expected.

“Hello, Marianne,” he said, deciding to start simple. He had at least thirty minutes to figure this out.

The Mariannes looked at each other, as if unsure how to respond.

Dimitri rubbed his chin. The impostor looked exactly like Marianne, as far as he could tell, all the way from the blue braided crown and straight-cut bangs to the slight hunch of her shoulders and the ever-present shadows under her eyes. He would have to resort to conversation, but there was so little he knew about her.

He frowned, which surprised the Marianne on the right, but she started and glanced away. It was his failure as a leader—and as president of the Royal Student Council—to have neglected getting to know all of his classmates. Marianne seemed like a nice girl, but even when he was greeting each of the returning students last week she hadn’t spared him a smile. She usually looked as if she’d rather be turned into a toad by a witch than remain in his presence a second too long, but perhaps he should have at least asked her why.

Well, what better time than now? He had nothing to lose. He faced the one who had shown surprise at his frown and asked with complete seriousness, “Forgive my frankness, but do I offend you, Marianne?”

This time surprise passed over both faces. The one on the right took a step back. “No, of course not. I just… it’s…” She trailed off, looking once more to the other Marianne.

“It’s not that you offend me…” The other Marianne spoke even more softly, almost sadly. “I only think it’s best for you not to associate with me.”

“Why?” Now Dimitri was just confused.

“Um… is this the right conversation to be having at this time?” the other Marianne asked, her frown deepening.

A “Well done, Your Highnesses!” came from Dr. Charming outside.

The Mariannes glanced out to see who had made it down first, but Dimitri kept his gaze trained on the one on the right, the one who had spoken last. She’d been more talkative than the other but offered less information. The harder Dimitri stared, trying to make sense of it, the more distressed her expression grew.

He realized what he was doing and shook his head. “My apologies. I got a bit lost in thought…”

She sighed, the most hopeless sound he’d ever heard, and Dimitri sighed too, then chanced a look out the window.

An eagle swooped down from above and grabbed Annette by the shoulders to carry her down, where Felix stood waiting and picking bits of candy out of his clothes. A bolt of inspiration hit Dimitri.

He leaned out the window and whistled.

Almost immediately, a bluebird flew in to answer his call. It landed on his outstretched hand, and he turned back to the Mariannes.

“Do you like birds?” He held it out to them.

The bluebird flinched away from the Marianne on the left and flew over to the one who had spoken more. She relaxed as it lit on her finger, greeting her with a friendly chirp.

Dimitri smiled. The second Marianne frowned, and with a quiver her features rippled away to reveal pale violet eyes, a rounder face, and long white hair.

“I suppose the songbird card won you this time,” Edelgard said, her tone light. “Use it often?”

It didn’t surprise him that she was the one behind this scheme—only the daughter of the Evil Queen would come up with such a clever trick. “Quite the contrary,” he replied. “I tend to avoid it, especially in Hero Training.”

“Ha, I can imagine.” She flapped a hand at them, the other perched on one hip. “I’ve kept you both here long enough. My apologies for using you, Marianne.”

The other girl shook her head. “You needn’t… It was your assignment, after all.”

“Still, I would have been disquieted to sit in a glass tower with my doppelganger for half an hour.”

“You don’t like looking at yourself?” Dimitri asked with mild surprise.

She pursed her lips. “I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that I do.”

“I apologize. I mean, your destiny…” He stopped himself before her eyebrows could climb any higher. “Well, never mind that. Let us go, Marianne.”

Marianne ducked her head as she let the bluebird fly back out and started for the stairway.

Halfway down, she said, “I’m sorry… I didn’t know you thought you offended me.”

“Oh. There’s no harm done, truly.”

“No, I guess not.”

A few beats of silence passed between them. As they neared the ground floor, Dimitri said, “You must like birds, don’t you?” He was sure he’d heard someone say once that Marianne loved animals—which made sense given her story. “You must be better with them than I am.”

“Hmm? What makes you say that?”

“I’m quite terrible with little creatures like songbirds.”

“You are not,” she said, sounding taken aback. “They adore you.”

“That is comforting to hear from a princess.” With a smile, he followed her into the sunny meadow.

“Twenty-two minutes and five seconds,” Madam Maid Marian said. “Well done, both of you. Your composure through the ordeal is storybook-perfect, Princess Marianne. And Prince Dimitri, that was quite clever to use a bird. You are both the mirror images of your talented parents.”

“Thank you,” said Dimitri.

Now that he knew he didn’t offend Marianne, he was curious to know why she didn’t want him to associate with her. How had Edelgard known that, anyway? Or had she been bluffing?

He’d already failed to notice Edelgard’s attitude toward her destiny before it had grown enough that she even questioned Headmistress Rhea in front of their whole class. It bothered him, how much he couldn’t understand her. She made it sound as if she didn’t want her story. But then what would she become without it? It belonged to both of them—what would he become without it?

He looked back at Marianne, who stood quietly to the side as Madam Maid Marian congratulated the students on their first successful missions. “Beauty and the Beast” was one of the finest stories in Fódlan. Was there something she disliked about her role in it as well?

He hoped to talk more with Marianne at lunch, but the other members of the Royal Student Council had something they wanted to discuss. Mostly arguing about the upcoming Beauty Sleep Festival. When he glanced at her, he found the quiet princess at a table with Claude and Hilda’s crew, listening to one of Claude’s extravagant tales of his homeland. A soft smile even slipped out once or twice.

But the afternoon was packed with classes that kept his mind off anything else for some time.

“Dude, are you insane?” Sylvain shut his locker door with a bang. “Who would sign up for two mythmatics classes in one term? I can barely handle one!”

Dimitri finished rearranging the hextbooks on the middle shelf of his own locker. “I took a few extra classes over the summer, so Crownculus is all right. Experimental Fairy Math is more difficult, but Professor Hanneman is not a hard teacher.” This was all true. He believed every word of it, even though the past few hours spent inside the classroom over Kingdom Management and a double period of Experimental Fairy Math had beaten him down a little bit.

But who was he kidding? A good ruler had to master all subjects. This was nothing compared to the sort of challenges he would someday have to face as king—the sort that even a smile and a kind word couldn’t fix. Of course he wasn’t backing out now, even if mythmatics had never been his best subject.

“This is the Boar you’re talking about,” said Felix with an unprincely snort. “He blazed through Geografairy with top marks last year, remember?” He slammed his locker door shut and stalked down the hallway. His ponytail was finally free of candy cane.

Sylvain shuddered as he followed. “I swear Professor Rumpelstiltskin’s trying to fail us all.”

“He’s trying his best to fail us all,” Dimitri said. “Chin up, Sylvain. If only you would put in half as much effort into Chemythstry as you do rescuing maidens for Hero Training, you would undoubtedly ace it.”

“Oh wow, is that sarcasm I sense in your tone? Who are you and what have you done to my pure, unassuming friend?”

Their last class of the day, Fairy Tale History with Cross Cultural References, was one of those with an even mix of both royals and commoners, but a clear separation between the two remained displayed in how they seated themselves. Dimitri frowned.

“Is something wrong?” his seatmate, Ashe, whispered as Professor Byleth walked in. Ashe was the son of Goldilocks, a commoner by the book, but he claimed his father was a king somewhere. No one knew if that was true, but Ashe was such a kind and honest boy that he probably wasn’t making stuff up.

Dimitri offered him a reassuring smile. “Oh, it’s nothing.”

The tapping of papers on the teacher’s desk up front drew their attention to the professor.

“You all remember what I said last week. We’re pairing up for your Legacy Day projects today.”

The whole class groaned. Professor Byleth smiled and glanced down at a scroll. “As you know, this won’t be like other projects you’ve done in the past. This semester, I want you to show me you can put aside your differences to work together with someone you didn’t expect and learn something valuable about your stories—whether or not your chosen topic is related to your story. Now let’s see here… Lorenz, you’re with Claude.”

“Oh my!” said Lorenz Hearts, displeasure written over his prim features. “That is rather unexpected.”

“Yes, now unfortunately not everyone here features in a story with multiple representatives in this year’s class, so some of you won’t be working with your destined enemies. Case in point, Petra will be working with Dorothea.”

The daughter of Pinocchio waved at the daughter of the Little Mermaid, who had just transferred here this year.

“Let’s hustle and get to your assigned partners,” said the professor. “Ashe, I’d like you to work with Bernadetta. Wait. Where is Bernadetta?”

“Absent,” several voices chorused.

“Of course she is. Ashe, find a way to contact her after school. Next up we have… ah, Marianne and Ferdinand.”

Dimitri saw Marianne sink lower into her seat as Ferdinand glanced over at her curiously.

Ashe sat with Dimitri in silence until Professor Byleth said, “Edelgard and Dimitri.”

The click of heeled boots announced her presence. “I suppose…” She looked at them uncertainly.

Ashe sprang up. “I’ll move!” Before either of them could protest, he’d disappeared.

“Ah.” He moved over to make room for her. “This is a fine opportunity to understand our story together!”

She sat stiffly. “Right.”

They waited in silence until the pairings were complete; then Professor Byleth gave them the last half of class to discuss the project.

“So then,” said Dimitri. He glanced down at the blank note page on his MirrorPad. “What do you suppose our topic should be?”

She answered without hesitation, “You would like to research our story, wouldn’t you?”

“Well, that is only if you…”

“I don’t mind.” She flipped open her own MirrorPad and pulled up an empty document. On the top of her page she wrote, with a quill-shaped pen, “Snow White”— Fairy Tale His. Research Project. “I can share this document with you,” she said as she continued writing. “Then we can compile all our notes into one file and compare them when we meet in class.”

Her organization was quite impressive. Dimitri had always thought evil was all about chaos and disorder, but he supposed they wouldn’t get very far if that were so. “It seems I still have a lot to learn,” he said absently.

Edelgard cast him a puzzled look. “About organizing your notes?”

“No, not at all.” He cleared his throat. “I was thinking… would you like to research the evolution of our story through the ages?”

She blinked. “Evolution?”

“Yes. Pardon me for saying, but you seem to have some hesitation regarding the Evil Queen’s role in the story. If we could go back to her roots, it could bring us both some new perspective.” He watched her face carefully.

“That’s a good idea.” She didn’t look convinced, though.

That’s all right, he told himself. It’s not my job to convince her.

Out loud he said, “I’ve studied to some extent the history of my own bloodline, of course, but there’s a lot I still don’t know myself. In particular, I would certainly wish to learn more about the male Snow Whites before me…”

She laughed. “It must be hard being the only boy here with princess powers.”

His mouth fell open. “I beg your—I do not have—”

“Oh, don’t fuss. There have been some Evil Kings in the past too, and more than enough Princess Charmings. Speaking of which, do you know who yours is?” She looked around the room, at the pairs of students bent over their desks, some discussing, many arguing.

“No,” Dimitri said. “Felix doesn’t have any sisters.”

“Oh.” She tapped her pen on her chin. “Who is Felix destined for? His demeanor intrigues me.”

Dimitri glanced over to where the prince in question was silently scrawling down notes on his MirrorPad, glowering at the screen while his partner Ingrid talked over his shoulder.

“The general assumption is Rapunzel; that’s who Glenn was destined for…”

“Glenn?”

Dimitri shook his head. “Never mind.” It was best not to speak of such things, and not only because of Glenn. “I suppose I’ll find out who my princess is on Legacy Day.”

An odd expression crossed Edelgard’s features. “And you’re… okay with that?”

“It does take off the stress of knowing which one of my classmates is destined to rescue me from a poisoned sleep.”

“You’re okay with that too?”

“With what?”

She stared at him. “You’re always so heroic, the rescuing-damsels-in-distress type of prince. You aren’t bothered by being the one rescued?”

“That part of the story isn’t the end of my life,” he told her. “Besides, is it so bad to be the one who needs saving? Look at ‘Beauty and the Beast,’ for example.”

“Hmm.” She twirled her pen in her hand. “Perhaps that’s it—perhaps everyone needs saving.”

Dimitri didn’t quite agree with that statement. He wasn’t sure why she’d say such a thing, either. She might feel the same way as he did sometimes, but villains didn’t need saving. They could live with the darkness inside them. It was their destiny.

But out loud, he only said, “Let’s begin with a thesis!”

Chapter Text

Three years old.

“My little bird! What are you doing down here?” The Evil Queen stared down in amusement at her daughter, who sat curled up at the base of a goblin statue in her mother’s wing of the castle with a too-big storybook in her lap.

Edelgard flipped a page in the book with the same diligent air of her father when he reviewed military reports. “I’m reading,” she informed her mother. In truth, she was looking at colorful illustrations of princesses, knights, and fairy godmothers. A bright smile split her face—and her facade of diligence—as her finger landed on a picture of a handsome prince, astride his majestic horse, heading into the deep, dark woods where a beautiful maiden was undoubtedly waiting to be rescued.

“Who gave you that book, Edelgard?” her mother asked, the mirth gone from her voice.

“I found it in Daddy’s library. He said I could have it.” She hugged it to her chest, puzzled by the expression on her mother’s face.

“What nonsense. Give it to me; I’ll not have you reading stories meant for dainty, helpless princesses. Wouldn’t you rather read about witches and warlocks?”

Edelgard frowned. “But I don’t like witch stories. All they ever do is try to eat children.”

“Oh, they’re fairytales, Edelgard. That’s just the way they are! Now come along; I’ve got a lovely picture book or two in my library that I’ve been waiting to give you.”

Six years old. The Good King had given Edelgard a puppy for her birthday. It was the sweetest little thing, with curly brown and white fur, big and rather ridiculous triangular ears, and four perfect tiny paws that got into everything, and Edelgard adored him.

“A puppy?” said the Evil Queen when she saw him later that day.

“His name is Prince!” Edelgard announced happily. “Isn’t he perfect, Mother?”

“Not yet. But I know just the thing.” The Evil Queen snapped her fingers, and a bottle of a strange green potion appeared in her hand. She gave it to Edelgard and instructed her to pour it over the puppy.

“Come here, boy.” Prince whined and cringed away as the green liquid splashed over his fur.

Then with a snap, crackle, and poof! the puppy transformed into a bone rat—an ugly black creature with glaring red eyes which was three times the size of a normal rat and lived on a diet composed entirely of human bones.

Edelgard started crying, for which her mother admonished her, but she didn’t care. Prince had been beautiful and would have grown into such a handsome, heroic dog. But rats she hated more than anything else in her mother’s dark world.

Nine years old. Edelgard was braiding her mother’s hair.

“Mother,” she asked as a lock of her own hair fell forward, “why is my hair turning white?” It used to be a light, pretty brown, the same as her father’s. Now, the ends had already lost their color.

“Hmm? It’s just magic. A small price to pay for our power.” The Evil Queen leaned forward, studying her reflection in the mirror. “It looks prettier than that dull old brown, if you ask me. Makes you look like a true Queen.”

“The kids at school say it looks funny,” Edelgard muttered. “Like Old Man Winters.”

Her mother stiffened. “Who is it this time? Turn them into toads, the whole lot of them!”

But Edelgard didn’t, the next day at school, because a boy with big blue eyes and even funnier hair had told her, with all the sincerity in the world, that he thought it was pretty too. That afternoon she ran through the halls of Queen Castle, eager to tell her mother that she didn’t mind the new color after all. Instead she found her father, a stern frowny man with dark green hair, and an elegant, gentle-faced lady in a golden headdress and dove-white gown.

The Good King hugged Edelgard as if he might never let her go. It was the only time she had ever seen him weep.

“This is Her daughter?” said the man, with a frown.

“Yes,” said the woman. She knelt to Edelgard’s level and smiled at her. “Hello, young one. My name is Rhea.”

Fourteen years old. Edelgard was finally allowed to see her mother again—but only through a glass screen.

By then, the rest of her hair had turned white too.

Seventeen years old.

She lay staring up at the darkened ceiling of her dorm room at Ever After High. Outside, the sun had started to rise at last, its first warm rays cutting through the window curtains to the other end of the room, where Bernadetta still slept, curled in a ball under her covers. She snored. Loudly.

The memories came often, during the night. Sometimes they came as nightmares instead. Edelgard wasn’t sure which was worse. With a shiver, she sat up and reached over to disable the alarm on her MirrorPhone, lest it go off later and give her roommate a scare.

Early morning walks around the school grounds had become something of a ritual for her now. The alarm she only kept around for nights when, by some miracle, she managed to sleep undisturbed.

New shades of fall tinged the morning with a slight chill. Edelgard pulled on a red sweater and tied her long hair into a tail at her neck, so the wind wouldn’t mess with it today. What her mother had said about her magic siphoning the color from it; that had been a lie. It was Her magic that had drained Edelgard’s hair of its natural autumnal brown. Her magic that had stolen years off Edelgard’s life. Her magic that had left her daughter’s own so weak and dependent on spells and sorcery.

As she passed the Royals’ Common Room, she sped up. If only Little Edelgard had known that being a princess would be so hard…

Outside, she drank in the fresh clear air, letting it dispel the gloomy fog in her head. She almost felt lighter as she headed for the troll bridge that led to the village of Book End. Perhaps she’d grab a coffee at the Hocus Latté Café before school. Her first class was Home Evilnomics; she’d need one.

“Who dares to cross my bridge?” the troll under the bridge bellowed the moment she stepped foot on it.

“An innocent girl with no ill intent,” she recited, reaching into her skirt pocket for spare change.

It was empty.

A looming shadow appeared behind her shoulder. “Caught off guard once again, Your Highness,” a soft, amiable voice said. Two coins materialized before her, suspended by glowing teal magic.

Edelgard relaxed. “And you have come to my rescue yet again. Thank you, Hubert.” She snatched one of the coins out of the air and paid her toll. Once they crossed the bridge, she asked, “May I ask what you’re doing around at this hour?”

Her shadow paused mid-stride to stretch the sharp-edged wings hidden in the folds of his dark cloak. Light shattered over them, making them gleam like bits of broken glass. Coupled with his cold expression and reptilian eyes, they drew more frightened stares and warning whispers than even Edelgard herself. She still wasn’t sure if he did that on purpose.

He said, in response to her question, “I wanted to get coffee.”

They passed a sleepy-looking pair of schoolchildren. One of them burst into tears the instant she set eyes on Hubert.

Unlike Edelgard, Hubert Thorn had an evil destiny and totally owned it—had already signed the Storybook of Legends in last year’s class, in fact. Part of that might be because his father, the Dark Fairy Carabosse, had never gotten the chance to play his role in “Sleeping Beauty,” thanks to the Evil Queen who had unceremoniously stolen it from him. But Hubert had never shown spite or malice toward Edelgard in spite of that, and she could never believe he was as evil as his father, so perhaps that was why, of all the vassals and retainers her mother had forced upon her since childhood, he was the only one she kept around. Their paths would diverge once he graduated and started wreaking havoc in Sleeping Beauty’s kingdom, though, so she had been seeing less of him in recent years.

“What a coincidence,” she said. “I too am in need of one.” It was a good thing the Hocus Latté opened at an unholy hour of the day.

They strolled down Main Street in companionable silence. But before they reached the café, Edelgard broke it. “I intend to steal into the headmistress’s office today.”

The slight twitch of his left eyebrow was his only indication of surprise. An irrational part of her feared for one moment that he might protest, but he answered readily, “That is not such a terrible idea. Rhea has a hearing with the Royal Student Council this afternoon, does she not?”

“That’s right. I have wondered for some time what the Storybook of Legends would reveal to someone before Legacy Day.” She looked up at him. “I am surprised you never came up with the notion yourself, Hubert.”

He said dryly, “Destiny would never be a concern of mine if not for you, Your Highness.”

She chuckled. “Sorry for dragging you into my drama.”

His left eyebrow rose. “I owe you my life, Lady Edelgard. Helping you cause a little chaos, well, that is but a small price to pay.”

A flash of blue in Edelgard’s peripheral caught her attention. She stopped and glanced across the fountain. “Go on without me.”

“Is something the matter?”

“Yes, I need a fairyberry tart along with my usual, pronto. Do hurry before the line gets long.” She waved him toward the café.

“As you wish.” Looking bemused, Hubert disappeared into the café.

Edelgard marched past the fountain. “Were you spying on that conversation?” she demanded of one surprised passerby.

“No!” Dimitri exclaimed. “Upon my honor, I did not mean to overhear any of that.”

She examined him from head to toe for any signs of lying, not that she could imagine he had a sneaky bone in his body. “Right. Well… you heard it either way.”

“I’m afraid so.” He raised a hand to his forehead, where loose strands of goldenrod hair, normally gelled to perfection, hung limper than usual. “What I heard is rather concerning, but I can’t exactly stop you; can I?”

She tilted her head. “You can’t?” Well, he couldn’t even if he tried, but she hadn’t expected him to admit it.

His fingers moved to one temple. “While I object to your… methods, I confer that there is no other option, if what you’re seeking is the truth.”

“The great Dimitri White has no objection to breaking the rules?”

“I’ve bent more than a few rules myself, once or twice, for good purpose,” Dimitri said with a frown. “Besides, what do you think I can do? Tell the headmistress?”

That was exactly what she thought he would do, but no matter how “goody two-shoes” her mother claimed he was, Dimitri was smart. Smarter than standing up in the middle of his Royal Student Council meeting to declare to the whole assembly that Edelgard Queen was up to no good somewhere, anyway.

But she had to be sure. “I would have thought you’d at least be more upset,” she said, “seeing as this is a phase of my questioning our destinies.”

“I am upset,” he retorted. “I simply do not have the energy to deal with it this morning. Now if you haven’t any more pressing matters to discuss, I must get going.”

He walked away—in the direction of the Hocus Latté—while Edelgard stood fixed in momentary stupefaction.

“Your fairyberry tart, My Lady,” said Hubert, appearing with her bagged goods. “Is something the matter?” he asked for the second time.

“Thank you, Hubert. Remind me to pay you back later.” She pulled her piping-hot beverage from the bag and remarked, as they headed back to school, “It seems that even beauties are beasts before coffee.”

∞

Edelgard couldn’t stop looking Dimitri’s way each time he came in view that day. She didn’t much like his knowing of her plan, no matter what he’d said earlier. Somehow the idea of Dimitri White sitting around idly while aware of rampant evil didn’t make any sense.

Then again, seeking the truth could hardly be considered evil.

After their conversation that morning, she was finding it impossible not to notice how his laugh, his voice, and his perfect smile were no longer as bright and happy as she remembered. Perhaps he had had a bad night as well? But then why did no one else seem to notice anything?

“Is something bothering you today?” Petra asked her at lunch. “Your mind is looking occupied.”

Edelgard fished a stone out of her soup. “Do you remember the cheerhexing squad’s little fiasco with the gargoyle statues yesterday?”

“I am never forgetting it. They interrupted Cooking Class-ic. Sylvain Croakington was so startled, he turned into a frog and fell into his blackbird pie. They tried to eat him.” Petra spooned out a stone from her own bowl and laid it on the corner of her tray. “I am never working as his partner again.”

Good St. George. “Right. Well, one of those gargoyles ate my Chemythstry hextbook.”

“Oh! I can lend you mine, if you are needing it for the homework.”

Edelgard smiled, ignoring a tiny pinprick of guilt for lying to the girl who could only tell the truth. “That would be spellbinding, thank you.”

“You are welcome.”

On her way out of the Castleteria, she bumped into Dimitri. “Oh, sorry.”

“No, it’s—I should be the one to apologize.” He inclined his head. “I was rather short with you this morning.”

“You needn’t apologize for every little thing, Dimitri.” Edelgard glanced around to make sure no one was watching. “But if you truly feel that sorry, there is something I’d wish to clarify with you.”

He glanced around as well, then nodded. “Just say the word.”

“I hate to bring it up again, but you understand I have to make certain.” Edelgard placed a palm to her forehead. “About what you overheard this morning… You won’t tell anyone?”

“Oh, that.” He adjusted the collar of his blue blazer, dusted some nonexistent lint off his sleeve. “I won’t. On one condition, if you would.”

Since when—? Ugh. “What is it?”

“I’d like to know what you’ll find inside. On my page, in the Storybook of Legends.” When he raised his eyes to hers, they were inlaid with a tired solemnity.

Edelgard pursed her lips and nodded. “It’s a deal, then.”

∞

An hour after the final bell toll of the school day found Edelgard trudging from the castle to the troll bridge.

“Who dares to cross my bridge?” bellowed the troll.

“An innocent girl with no ill…” Edelgard reached into her pocket and came out empty. Again. “Intent.” She groaned. “Forget it.”

“Not so fast.” Dimitri appeared at her elbow, two coins clinking in his hand. “You have no idea how difficult it is to lose Dedue without making him suspicious, and I can’t afford for him to see us on school grounds, after all the trouble I went through.”

Edelgard crossed her arms. “Look at you, coming to the rescue of your future villain. Not quite how the story goes.”

He responded with a blank, “If I left you here to be eaten by a troll, neither of us would have any story at all.”

She gazed up at him, unblinking. “Did you just attempt to make a joke?”

“No. But I am told I do need to improve my humor studies. Was that funny?”

“It was not.”

They crossed the bridge.

On the other side, Dimitri said, “So, about the Storybook of Legends… Did you succeed in your unnoble quest?”

“I didn’t find anything in it, if that’s what you mean. Just pages of names and signatures. Ours were both blank.” She tried not to sound as disappointed as she felt.

His shoulders slumped, just a bit. “Well, that’s that, I suppose.”

Together they approached the village of Book End. “Why were you so curious about it?” Edelgard asked. “You know already how our story goes; everyone does.”

Doubt shaded his regal profile. “I…”

She recalled their conversation from the previous day. “Is this about your future wife?”

“What? No. Well… maybe just a little, but…” He waved the MirrorPhone in his hand at the empty air. “It’s complicated.”

Main Street opened up ahead of them, lined with storefronts and above them, quaint, cozy-looking apartments. The smell of sweet porridge wafted out from the open door of the Three Bears Café, the fragrance of roasted bean from the Hocus Latté farther down the road. The front windows of the Gingerbread Boutique showcased mannequins modeling the latest fashions of Fódlan’s high societies, and Edelgard saw Annette Ella rearranging the shoes on display inside the Glass Slipper. Three stories up, the Tower Hair Salon advertised free mani- and pedi-curses for new Ever After High students.

“How’d do you do it, by the way?” said Dimitri. “Break into the headmistress’s office.” He winced as if speaking the very words was a crime.

Edelgard stopped in front of the Mad Hatter’s Wonderlandian Tea Shoppe & Haberdashery. “Oh, I told Ashe Lockes they were serving free porridge in the faculty wing.” She opened the door.

His eyes widened in horror. “You deceived Ashe?”

“Mm-hmm. He is very unassuming and all, but you must admit, the ability to get past any lock is not the most innocent of gifts.”

Dimitri stormed into the shop after her, jumping when the wooden cuckoo that hung from the door popped out and nearly got him between the eyes. “Still! Taking advantage of someone like that is nothing short of—” He cut off as a flying teapot dove under his left arm, circled back over his head, and buzzed off through one of the many-colored doors on the wall. The door shrank in on itself and swung shut.

“Evil?” Edelgard suggested.

“Yes! What are we doing here?”

Before she could answer, a nearby chair reached out one leg to trip Dimitri—eliciting a strangled gasp—then spun around to catch him and seat him at a round, checkerboard-patterned table. Edelgard sat down across from him, batting away a winged polka-dot bowler hat that was trying to get on her head.

His question was a very reasonable one. She herself had no particular fondness for anything of a chaotic order; that was more of her mom’s thing. But… “If you want a place where no one will be able to eavesdrop on your secrets, well, this is it.”

Dimitri started as the hat relocated to the top of his head. “I-I beg your pardon?”

“I just don’t understand,” said Edelgard, unfolding the menu on the table, “why the hex you care so much about my destiny.”

He gingerly removed the hat from his head and stated, as if it were obvious, “You know what happens if you go off-script.”

Edelgard closed her eyes. “Don’t give me that.”

“What more do you want?” Dimitri continued to fight off the persistent hat with his free hand. “Your choice, no matter what it is, does affect other people. Myself, for example.”

“So that’s it?” She lay the menu down. “You really want your Happily Ever After, and you just cannot stand the idea of a rebel trying to sweep it away from under your feet?”

His eyes narrowed at her, and his hand stilled. “My ‘Happily Ever After’ does not belong to me alone. It is the only way to ensure my people’s happiness. And their safety.” The hat made another advance, and he swatted it off with such force it fluttered to the floor and lay there, limp and crushed. “Don’t you remember what happened when they finally captured your mother, in that pass between your kingdom and mine?”

Her blood turned to ice.

“That is what happens when someone powerful goes off-script.” His voice was hollow. And the look in his eyes, it was all too familiar.

She saw it in the mirror almost every day.

“Powerful?” Bitterness leaked into her next words. “I don’t have any choice, Dimitri. No one does, because safety is so much more important than freedom.”

She thought of all the Evil Queens that had come before, the ones that maybe hadn’t started out so evil from the beginning but always had to suffer the same fate in the End. She thought of Legacy Day last year, the girl who had signed to be the next Odette, and the smudge on her signature preserved, forever after, in the Storybook of Legends. Hex, she even thought of poor Ashe, who was in for the scare of his life, all for a bit of the porridge he never could resist. Anger swelled up inside her, and even though every alarm in her head warned her to calm down, she rose to her feet.

“We can sign for the certain happiness of certain multitudes, but what about the few we’re—you’re—dooming to tragedy forever after? What about innocent, kind people such as my father, who married the Evil Queen so that he could raise another and abet in this never-ending cycle? What about my own children then, and my children’s children? Do we have to die and die over again for the rest of eternity, just so people like you can—”

DING-DONG! Every clock in the tea shoppe went wild for the next seventeen seconds.

“What of the consequences?” Dimitri stood too, a vein pulsing in his forehead. His voice had darkened, deepened. “Because your mother went off-script, half a dozen villages under my family’s protection were utterly wiped out. Parents, elders, children. And that’s alongside the numbers of my father’s own men, and of the knights sent to assist from the Charming Kingdom! I was there. I saw it all.” He was shaking now—too subtly for anyone around them to notice, but shaking. “I still remember the look on Glenn Charming’s face, his corpse. That was—that was the month before his Legacy Day.”

Edelgard’s throat closed up. He was right. Of course he was right. It was for the best; best she die than a hundred, a thousand innocents—best she do better than her mother—

Crack.

They both looked down. At his hands, which now grasped two warped chunks of glass and metal. A thin line of red dotted the inside of his palm, where a jagged edge had cut into his flesh.

His shoulders heaved with a deep, trembling sigh. “Curses.”

Chapter Text

“Greetings again, Narrator!”

Again?

“Hmm, what’s this? Sounds like a different Voice today. Well, then allow me to introduce myself, Narrator 2—”

Ah, there’s no need. My wife has told me all about you.

“Oh! So that one was your wife. Do you two take turns?”

Yes, we do. Last time you interrupted her narrating Dimitri’s part of the story. And here I’ve just about wrapped up narrating Edelgard’s last chapter. What are you doing here?

“I’m with Hilda, on our way to the Mad Hatter’s Wonderlandian Tea Shoppe & Haberdashery.”

Oh, lovely.

“Yeah. Anyway, how is it that only Dimitri and Edelgard have Narrators?”

Because they are the main characters of this story. In truth, you are too, but after what happened with breaking the wall and all that—you’ll have to tell me what happened afterward, by the way—we decided there would be no point in narrating for a character who could hear the whole thing.

“Ha! That’s a good point. Who would narrate for me, anyway? You guys have a kid?”

Our daughter, actually. This would have been her first time telling a story.

“Oh, that’s a shame! Sorry I had to complicate things.”

No worries. She’s having enough fun as it is watching the drama unfold from the sidelines.

“I bet. Well, I better be going—think Hilda’s finally finished her phone call. She’s yelling at her current boyfriend—er, ex-boyfriend, as of five seconds ago—and I sure don’t want her to think I’m madder than a hog in a hatbox.”

But… aren’t you mad?

“Quite. But not as mad as a hog in a hatbox. Speaking of hats, we’re here. Hey, do I see Edelgard and Dimitri in there? Wonder what that’s all about.”

Wait a second—you’re actually going inside?

“For a Narrator, you don’t always think things through, do you?”

No, no, no, wait. You can’t go in there yet.

“Why not? Something going on that I shouldn’t know about?”

… You’re going in no matter what I say.

“Listen, do you know what it’s like to be friends with an enraged, fresh-from-breakup Hilda Cheshire? It’s like knowing there cannot be peace in the world if she doesn’t get tea and unbirthday cakes, that’s what it’s like.”

I can’t say I understand what you’re saying, but… oh, well. I did try.

Chapter Text

Once upon a time, the land of White Kingdom was ruled by none other than the Evil Queen. Her reign was by far the harshest its people had ever endured, and in those days there was much weeping and sorrow.

But then a dashing foreign Prince found and awoke the rightful queen, the fair Snow White, from a sleep like unto death. Her ascension to the throne ushered in a new and prosperous era, of joy and peace like none had ever seen before. And into this land was her child and heir born.

In this joyous and peaceful land, Dimitri had only ever seen his mother cry once. That was the day the Evil Queen was finally captured in a mountain pass between her territory and White Kingdom. It was the day that he broke the Rules, for the first and last time. 

His parents had expressly forbidden him to venture into the woods around their vacation cottage, for that was where the Well of Wonder was last seen, and in the days when the Evil Queen was still alive, any portal to Wonderland was a threat. But he had sneaked out to look for it anyway, allured by the stories he’d heard of its bizarre brand of magic. 

Even a fourteen-year-old boy should have known better than to ignore a warning like that. It had never crossed his mind that there would be the place that the Evil Queen, after four years rampaging through another world, would step back into Fódlan. In the midst of all the destruction that followed, he somehow found his way back to his parents, with only one knight, half a dozen bedraggled dwarves and a company of frightened woodland creatures as his escort.

Something he had never realized was inside him before, something akin to a string of fate, had been stretched to the breaking point that day. But for the sake of his mother, and for the sake of all the people who perished, and perhaps just a little for the sake of himself, he refused to let it snap. After all that Snow White had been through, he could not bring her another source of pain.

That was why he smiled, and why he laughed, and why day after day he still endeavored to win the hearts of a million. Because one day he would rise to their need and continue the happy reign his mother had begun. Someone had to ensure that.

But now, things were looking a bit grim.

“What in Ever After …” Edelgard stared at the mangled remnants of his MirrorPhone.

He stared too, not sure what to do next. He had never actually broken a MirrorPhone before.

But then she jumped into action. “Let me help you clean it up,” she said, laying a napkin on the table. “Put it here. I think I can try to fix it.”

“With magic?” Curiosity piqued, Dimitri dumped the twisted halves of his MirrorPhone—plus the new case Ingrid had bought him last week—onto the napkin. Then he sat back down, hoping no one around had caught sight of his little mishap, and feeling very much like a clumsy ogre.

Edelgard flexed her fingers and raised them over the MirrorPhone. A violet blaze rushed from her fingertips onto the napkin and engulfed the entire thing in flames.

They watched as the napkin, and what once was Dimitri’s MirrorPhone, burned into a pile of purple-flecked ashes. The door of the establishment opened, bringing in a gust of wind that swept the ashes clean off the table and into Edelgard’s lap.

She scooted back with a tiny “eek!”

Dimitri met her flustered gaze, and before he could stop it, a chuckle slipped out of him.

“Don’t laugh,” she snapped. Her gaze sharpened into a glare even as the beginnings of a smile pinched the edges of her mouth. “Now it’s all over me—I said don’t laugh!”

Dimitri smoothed his features back into a semblance of a serious expression. “What in Ever After was that?”

“It takes more magic to construct than it does to destruct. Everyone knows that.”

Of course, everyone knew Merlin’s three laws. But for Edelgard, of all people… “You mean that you have a shortage of magic?”

“You could say that. Just like you, it seems, have some sort of herculean strength.” She started sweeping up the ashes in her lap with another napkin. “This makes us almost even.”

A half dozen new questions popped up in Dimitri’s head, but before he could voice the first of them a familiar figure approached their table.

“What’ve we got here?” Claude peered down at the ashes in Edelgard’s lap. “Good gorgons, do you need help with that?”

He reached up to halt a pink chest of drawers that had been floating by. One  of the drawers sprang open at his touch, only to reveal nothing but a sea of sparkling green sand. “No, not that one,” he told it patiently and opened the last drawer.

“What are you doing here?” Edelgard asked him.

Claude tipped his striped yellow hat at her. “Why, I work here, Lady Edelgard.” He offered her a handheld vacuum cleaner from the bottom drawer of the chest. “Wanna try this instead?” 

For some reason, Edelgard looked at Dimitri before accepting it. The latter shrugged and only hoped his roommate hadn’t overheard their conversation a few moments ago, a sentiment this Narrator shares. 

With a pleasant smile, Claude patted the chest of drawers and asked them, “Anything I can get you guys today?”

Edelgard finished clearing away the ashes of Dimitri’s MirrorPhone and handed the vacuum cleaner back to Claude. “I suppose I should get something after coming all this way,” she said primly. “A charmed chai latté with a topsy-turvy fairyberry float for me… please. Dimitri?”

He blinked. “I’m good.”

“You sure?” said Claude. “The Queen of Hearts’ tarts have apple filling today. Not poisoned, I assure you.”

“He will have one,” said Edelgard without hesitation.

Claude smirked at Dimitri, for what reason not even the Narrator wants to know. “Absolutively, they’ll be ready in a jiffy,” he said to Edelgard. Then he sailed off with the floating chest in tow.

Once he was out of earshot, Dimitri said, “You really didn’t have to.”

“But you can never turn down an apple.” She tilted one hand at him. “Isn’t that right?”

“But I should—”

“You just broke your MirrorPhone,” she told him. “You can’t pay.”

He fell silent, more because of her first comment than the second. What was he going to do, now that his MirrorPhone was reduced to pixie dust in a fairy vacuum?

Well, first things first. He looked at Edelgard again. “About that. I can… I can trust you, right? Not to tell anyone?” 

Who could have predicted that he, the son of Snow White, would ever say those words to the daughter of the Evil Queen?

Neither of them moved, for the space of a few seconds. Then Edelgard nodded, the slightest of motions, and crossed her arms. “So then… when do you have time to discuss our findings for the project?”

“I was planning to pay a visit to the library this evening,” said Dimitri, relieved by the change of topic into safe, comfortable territory. “It should still be possible to work something out until I… get a new MirrorPhone.”

She nodded grudgingly, probably hoping that business would be cleared up sooner rather than later. Dimitri felt quite the same; it wasn’t as if he needed a device to work on this project, but it was stressful to think about. Not that that really mattered. He was good at working under stress.

A buzz came from Edelgard’s MirrorPhone on the table. She picked it up, frowned at the notification, and told him, “I forgot about something I have to do this afternoon…” She glanced toward the front counter, the opposite direction from which Claude and her charmed chai latté were coming.

“Your drink, Lady Edelgard,” he said, amusement ticking up one side of his mouth when she started at his sudden appearance. “And one unpoisoned apple tart for Dimitri.”

“Please refrain from calling me that.” A thin layer of frost coated Edelgard’s voice, even though her expression remained neutral.

Claude raised an eyebrow. “All right. Sorry.”

“And can I get this to go?” She pointed to the tall glass he’d placed on the table.

He snapped his fingers, and the glass packaged itself—in a strawberry-red gift box complete with gold curly ribbon and a nametag. Brows scrunching, Claude snapped his fingers again, and a tiny hat appeared on one side of the box, which he then presented to Edelgard with a satisfied smile.

“Thank you,” she said blandly.

“And you?” Claude turned to Dimitri. “Will you be leaving with her or staying to eat your tart by yourself? If you’re lonely, Earl Grey here can throw you a one-person unbirthday tea party.” He tapped his chest pocket, where his pet dormouse popped out and tipped its little hat.

Dimitri stared at his roommate. “No… thank you. To-go will do.”

A sound that was almost a snort came from Edelgard’s direction, and Claude’s eyes flickered to her, twinkling, before he shrugged and snapped his fingers again. Dimitri got an over-the-top gift box as well, this one blue with silver ribbon.

Claude with a cheery wave and Earl Grey with a wave of its hat bid them farewell. “Do come again!”

Dimitri thought he heard Edelgard mutter something like, “Not if I can help it.” Outside the shop, she shifted her box in one hand as if unsure what to do with it and faced him on the sidewalk. “Hext me when you get your new MirrorPhone.” 

“Oh. I don’t think I have your EnChat,” said Dimitri. “Or your number.”

Edelgard’s mouth parted in an O. Then she brought something up on her phone and typed something in. “There—I just followed you on MyChapter. You can add me from there, right?” She scrolled down with her thumb, no doubt scrutinizing his page.

“Yes, of course.” He wasn’t sure why he felt self-conscious all a sudden, but he pushed out one last smile. “I’ll see you later then, I suppose.”

“Right. See you.” She slipped her MirrorPhone away, nodded farewell, and started down the street.

Well, thought Dimitri as he turned in the other direction. That was disastrous.

Chapter Text

For the millionth time that morning, Edelgard brushed her hair out of her eyes and grimaced at the way the damp strands clung to her face. A fifteen-minute walk from the school dorms to Main Street in the village had turned her into a sweaty mess. Saturday was a better day than most others for the school’s entire spell-conditioning system to shut down, she supposed, but due to an emergence of rogue weather mages in the area, this Saturday was particularly terrible timing.

She wasn’t the only student who had abandoned Ever After High today. Flocks of them, and teachers too, had fled to Book End, making the walk even more insufferable, and she could already imagine how crowded the shops and cafés would be. Not that that could stop her. She’d agreed to meeting Dimitri and Hubert at the Hocus Latté, and she was doubly motivated to do so by the promise of spell-conditioned air.

“Hubert!” Her steps slowed as she approached the fountain across the plaza square. A noticeable lack of people ringed the fountain, where Hubert sat playing with his dog of death—a pom-pomeranian with fur so black it melted right into the shadows.

Hubert rose, summoning back a bleached white calf’s bone with a swirl of magic. “Good morning, Lady Edelgard.”

Spindle, the pomeranian, circled Edelgard’s ankles, tail wagging wildly. She bent down to pet him. “Have you been sitting out here long?”

“Not long,” he answered. His wings looked a little wilted. Every few seconds, she caught a flash of teal magic pulsing through his body. Probably an advanced body temperature-regulating spell the likes of which could only be learned at school by a proper student of Ms. Wicked Witch. She tried not to feel too jealous.

“We can wait for Dimitri inside,” she said, standing up.

“All the seats are full. I would have gone in anyway but thought I might as well wait with Spindle.”

“I see. So then, what do we propose we do?” She twitched back a smile as Spindle trotted around Hubert’s feet, glancing up at the bone that still floated above him. Hubert obliged and sent the bone catapulting again through the air.

“There are many things we could do in order to procure a seat, Lady Edelgard,” he said.

Edelgard pressed her lips together. “Well…” She fanned her face with one hand and glanced at her MirrorPhone in the other, noticing a new hext message from Dimitri.

DIMITRI WHITE: I’m terribly sorry but someone in another class turned Sylvain into a newt and now we have to find him. I’m afraid I can’t make it to today’s interview.

“Uh… hold on.” She shook her head and typed: it’s okay before looking back up at Hubert. “Dimitri needs to find a newt and will not be joining us.”

His one visible eyebrow arched. “Very well.”

“Now…” Edelgard tucked her phone away and turned toward the Hocus Latté Café. “About those seats…”

∞

Edelgard stepped out of the Hocus Latté Café and instantly regretted it. A wave of warm, wet air slapped her hair away from her face and sank into her skin, giving rise to the urge to scrub away at her bare arms. The sun, which had climbed even higher, now blazed down in its full glory from a mocking, cloudless sky.

This was a royal pain. She still had at least an hour until lunch. I should have stayed in the café…

The Enchanted Forest shouldn’t be too hot, so she headed in that direction. She was wrong, of course.

“You too?” Petra sat with her back to a tree with drooping branches, hextbook open in her lap and a wooden cuckoo bird on her shoulder. All around her, more students, in various stages of distress, sat with their animal friends, too absorbed in their own misery to spare a shiver of terror for Edelgard.

She joined Petra on the grass, pulling out her own hextbooks. “I almost wish my mother had taught me more ice magic tricks.”

“Would they not backfire?” said Petra.

“Yes, they would.”

The daughter of Pinocchio flicked a leaf out of her braid. “This heat is very unpleasing. Like it is rotting my core.”

Edelgard huffed out a dry laugh. “It feels like that for me, too.” She glanced up at the sound of incoming commotion—a group of haggard students trooping out of the forest.

In their midst, Sylvain hung on the shoulders of Felix and Dimitri, limping and loudly complaining about swamp slime. He and Felix looked a bit like they’d been chewed up and spit out by a troll, their faces smudged and hair threaded with twigs. Dimitri, on the other hand, looked as if he’d been merely strolling around the castle. The only indication of his trek through the woods were a slight flush and a leaf on his sweater vest, which he was already brushing off.

Edelgard felt even hotter and sweatier in comparison. She shook her head and focused on her crownculus homework.

Half an hour later, her composure was crumbling. She didn’t think it was hot enough to get sick—yet—but her eyelids were growing heavy, her brain taking much longer to comprehend the equations on her paper; and for the love of all the dark things, her bangs were sticking to her face as if they’d been stuck on with Goo of Death. The whining voices of students around her had blended into an annoying hum in the back of her head, making it even harder to concentrate.

She stretched out the fingers of her left hand, wondering if she could at least freeze her water bottle, which was now warm to the touch.

Simple ice magic tricks, she had a few. But the kind of magic inherited from an Evil Queen sometimes acts quicker than its master, and if she were thinking clearly she would have felt it already straining for release. Alas, accidents happen.

The magic shot out with a crackling bang. She’d barely had time to process her mistake before people started wailing again, this time through chattering teeth.

Ten minutes later, she sat in an uncomfortable hard-backed chair across from Rhea Grimm’s unsmiling face.

“Miss Queen.” The headmistress’s voice was lower than the temperature outside, inlaid with the slightest of chills. On her calm face rested an expression almost akin to disappointment, as if she’d ever expected better from the daughter of the Evil Queen.

Edelgard held back a sigh.

“It’s rare for you to lose your handle on your magic.” Rhea’s tone softened as she leaned forward, concern filling her light green eyes. “Is something the matter? Have you been feeling… overwhelmed, perhaps, in any way?”

Resisting the urge to lean away, Edelgard said, “Not at all, Headmistress.”

“Hmm. Well, Legacy Year is stressful. As such, I’ll let you off the hook this time. Perhaps you’ll take note of today’s incident and be more careful in the future.”

Edelgard pressed out a pleasant smile. “Yes, of course.” She couldn’t quite bring herself to apologize.

“That reminds me.” The headmistress glanced at the calendar on her desk. “With the Beauty Sleep Festival right around the corner, you should have plenty of time to rest.”

“Right.” Edelgard didn’t know whether to be cheered or displeased by the reminder. On the one hand, of the five major Princess Days of the year, the Beauty Sleep Festival was her favorite. For two days and two nights at the end of the Horsebow Moon, an enchantment fell over the school grounds of Ever After High, sending the students into a restful slumber she lacked. On the other hand, it was right before the week of Legacy Day.

Rhea cleared her throat. “That is all for today. Have a nice weekend, Miss Queen.”

Edelgard stood. “You as well, Headmistress.”

When she left the office, she was gratified to find the school’s indoor heating system, at least, was still functional. The students she passed in the halls still tossed her dirty looks, but that was nothing new.

On her way to the Royal Common Room, she came across Claude and Hilda, all bundled up in winter coats and headed outside.

“What are you two up to?” she asked, against her better judgment.

Claude waved a teacup at her, somehow not spilling any tea. Why he appeared to be dressed for a snowstorm, camera in one hand and teacup in the other, the Narrator can only guess.

“Taking pictures of the snowball fight, of course,” he answered.

Ah, I see.

Edelgard did not see. “It’s snowing?”

They nodded. Unease stirred inside Edelgard—had she accidentally made it snow?

Hilda jumped in to clarify, tone and expression blithe. “After they were finally caught, those confounded weather mages gave us a free snow day! Things’ll go back to normal by dinner though, so you’d better join us soon.”

Relief surged through Edelgard, but she shook her head. “I’ve got work to do.”

“Bah humbug!” Claude said mildly. “You have work to do every day. But a snow day at school is once in ever after.”

“You’d best enjoy it, then.”

With a shrug, Claude tramped off after Hilda.

Dimitri was waiting with Linhardt Beauty when she arrived. A multitude of other students, too, hung around the settees and cushy beanbags that furnished the Royal Common Room, chatting and working on homework. They all wore some sort of crown, and they glanced at her with expressions ranging from fright to disgust. Edelgard shook off her misgivings and strode inside.

“Did your interview with Hubert go well?” Dimitri asked as she sat down across from the half-asleep Linhardt. Dimitri gently nudged him awake.

“Yes. You’ll find all my notes in the project folder.” She nodded a greeting to Linhardt.

He stifled a yawn, shifting up his crownglasses—a pair of elegant green shades that had recently been made fashionable by a third-year, but to her knowledge Linhardt only wore to cover his eyes when he slept. “What are we here for, again?”

Edelgard raised an eyebrow, but Dimitri laughed and said, “You told me your mother was friends with ours.”

Friends? With the Evil Queen? Edelgard almost laughed herself.

“Not friends,” Linhardt drawled, pulling himself up on one elbow. “More like rivals with Snow White. And the Evil Queen was her roommate.”

“Roommates?” Edelgard had never heard that before.

His turn to raise an eyebrow, as if this were common knowledge. “You didn’t know?”

“Well, I never heard many stories about my mother’s high school days,” she said, unable to keep the edge out of her voice.

“Huh.”

Dimitri cleared his throat. “So… Snow White and Sleeping Beauty were rivals?”

“Something of the sort.”

“Say more about that,” Dimitri said with an encouraging smile.

Linhardt seemed to greatly dislike the sound of those words—he no doubt heard them often enough from Professor Byleth—but he obliged. “Well… as I’m sure you know, back in our parents’ day, Snow White hadn’t yet been established as, what do you call it…? The foremost of all fairytale queens. The hierarchy was more balanced then.”

Edelgard had always found Linhardt’s bluntness refreshing. An immature side of her found great satisfaction in noticing the small twitch in Dimitri’s brow.

“But Mom isn’t terribly fond of gossip, so she never told us much.” Linhardt reached up to slip his crownglasses back down. “You could interview one of my sisters instead. I have eight of them; they love to gossip.”

The boy could fall asleep in the blink of an eye, so Edelgard cut in before he made himself comfortable. “We are not going to trouble ourselves more than we need to, Linhardt. Can you at least tell us why you think your mother didn’t get along with Snow White?”

“We are going to be here a while, Linhardt,” Dimitri added, not unkindly.

Linhardt muttered something about overbearing parents and took off his crownglasses with a snap. “Fine. I think she was jealous.”

A pause. Then, “Say mo—”

“You know, the sleeping for a hundred years thing.” Linhardt waved his hand as if he couldn’t care less. “She was under the impression Sleeping Beauty and Snow White would basically be the same story if not for that. Not that it made a difference in The End. Thanks to the Evil Queen, her nap time was shortened to, like, a week.”

When the Evil Queen had stolen the Dark Fairy’s role, she had caused Sleeping Beauty’s kingdom a great deal of trouble. But that had ultimately resulted in an abrupt disruption to the story: the slumbering princess’s premature awakening. Of course, that was common knowledge—Linhardt was here now, after all.

Edelgard smiled and said, “Why, Linhardt, I do believe that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say at once.”

“Do you need anything else?” he mumbled.

“You’re interested in curse theory, right?” Dimitri asked, glancing over his notes.

“Curse-breaking theory,” Linhardt corrected, then frowned. “How did you know?”

“Professor Goodfairy’s Advanced Magic Theory is the only class in which I’ve never seen you fall asleep,” said Edelgard. Dimitri nodded.

Linhardt sighed. “Well… I’ve done some research on sleeping spells.”

“That’s impressive.” Sleeping spells were of the highest level of magic studies, and for good reason. Students who used them in their stories only learned them in their final year before graduation. Edelgard was willing to bet Linhardt knew more about them than the fourth-years taught by Ms. Wicked Witch.

Edelgard already knew about the kind of sleeping spell used in her story, though, and Dimitri didn’t look as if he’d relish discussing this subject. Shaking her head, she said, “We’ll come to you if we have any more questions about that.” She paused. “I am curious though… Did your mother get along well with mine?”

She expected a hard no, but these days nothing was going the way she expected.

Linhardt only shrugged. “I think she just felt sorry for the Evil Queen. Now, are you both finished interrogating me, or can I go to lunch?”

Chapter Text

A mere two days after the Beauty Sleep Festival, the effects of the sleeping spell were as distant as a forgotten dream. If only enchanted slumber were an everyday occurrence. Dimitri hoped today’s field trip would revive him a little before the weekend—which he’d already dedicated to extracurriculars and that blasted project—but for today, his smiles were all for show.

Just one more week, he reminded himself. One more week and it will all be over.

Professor Poppa Bear of Beast Training & Care class led the troop of Legacy Year students to the clover meadow behind the school, where the Enchanted Forest glimmered with floating fairy lights and clouds of pixie dust in its trees. The Saucy Stream bubbled by under a wobbly wooden foot-bridge between the school path and the meadow; water sprites sparkled in and out of the view among the rocks, their giggles indistinguishable from the gurgling of the stream.

Accompanying the group was Headmistress Rhea’s chief aide and Ever After High’s head of student activities, Seteth Grimm. He was also the headmistress’s cousin, a direct descendant of the Brothers Grimm like her, with immaculately-trimmed hair and goatee, stern green eyes, and perpetual lines in his forehead. For some reason whenever a catastrophe occurred within the student body, Seteth was the one to handle it. Catastrophes occurred often within the student body.

His younger sister, Flayn, had joined them for today’s excursion—talking eagerly with the other students. She seemed to know as much about the purpose of this trip as anyone else did.

As they walked, Seteth talked. “It is important to remember that when you embark on your stories, you are never alone.” He stopped at the far end of the meadow, standing in front of a tree with his hands folded behind his back. “Your role is so vital that nature itself will rise up to assist you. Today an animal, a companion of the woodlands, will be drawn to you, who will help you see your story to The End.”

“Wow, this actually sounds kinda cool,” Sylvain whispered to Dimitri.

“So do we all get pets?” Annette asked the teachers.

Professor Poppa Bear adjusted his round spectacles with a furry brown paw and cleared his throat. He was extremely shy whenever he addressed girls. “Ah, no. That is, the Wonderlandians already had their animal companions when they came through the portal to Fódlan.”

Dimitri glanced at his roommate. Atop Claude’s dark curls perched Earl Grey, who tipped his hat to the surrounding students. Shuffle the hedgehog rolled through the grass and came to rest at Lorenz’s feet, and from Hilda’s shoulder Carrolloo the caterpillar demanded, “What are you sorry lot of wolf dumps gawkin’ at?”

“So… so what happens?” said Bernadetta, still hanging back by the foot-bridge. “We walk into the forest and some… animal comes out and grabs us?”

“No, silly!” said Hilda. “You do the Animal Call. In Wonderland, all the children know it—how’d it go, Claude?”

Claude set Earl Grey in his palm so the dormouse could demonstrate a series of leaps, crawls, and hops that corresponded to each animal he named:

“Monkey, tiger, antelope

Elephant, bunny, cantaloupe

Mousey, guinea pig, skunky-poo

Rat, turkey, chicken cordon bleu—”

“Chicken cordon bleu?” said Dimitri.

“Sure, sometimes food can be a pet too,” said Hilda, clapping for Earl Grey’s performance.

“Um…” said Professor Poppa Bear.

Sylvain nudged Dimitri. “So, it’s like a dance. Our leader here is a fairy talented dancer; we can count on him to set us the example.”

Dimitri (gently) shoved him away and tried to laugh off that absurd claim, but the other students were now staring at him expectantly. He coughed. “Sylvain, haha… not a funny joke…”

“I can lead you through the movements,” Claude said with a generous air. “Here, you start like this for the monkey, and then get down on your knees like this for tiger, and for antelope—”

“The Animal Call,” Seteth ground out, “is a ritual entirely unique to Wonderland and thus will be unnecessary for today’s activities. Thank you for your demonstration, Claude.”

“Aw man,” said Claude as he brushed grass stains off his sleeves. “We didn’t even get to the big finale.”

Dimitri exhaled in relief as everyone’s attention returned to Seteth and the professor, who had produced a large bag filled with what looked like small candies, each wrapped in colorful foil.

“The Fódlan animal call is quite simple,” said Professor Poppa Bear, passing the bag to Ashe. “First you declare your name. Then pull these spell poppers I have prepared for you.”

As Ashe handed out the individual spell poppers, the students stood around uncertainly.

“What kind of animals do we get?” Sylvain said, tugging lightly on the ends of his wrapper.

“One most suited to you and your story,” said Seteth. “Flayn, please refrain from rifling through the leftovers.”

Dimitri looked around at his hesitant classmates, then steeled himself and stepped into the center of the meadow. “I am ready,” he said, though in truth he still had no idea what was about to happen.

“I am ready as well,” declared Ferdinand, stepping out a little bit farther than him.

Great. No one was going to hear him now.

Then he felt guilty for thinking such a thought. Ferdinand had a proper and admirable enthusiasm for everything he set his mind to, a quality Dimitri had yet to perfect.

Before he could think twice, he twitched the ends of his spell popper and called out, “I am Dimitri White.”

“I am Ferdinand von Aegir Cupid!”

With a snap, the foil in Dimitri’s hands ripped, and a flash of light burst into the sky. The light exploded into a white star above the trees, next to Ferdinand’s deep blue star.

At once two shapes came streaking out of the forest. The white shape leaped onto Dimitri’s shoulder and twined around his neck. As unbelievably soft fur tickled his face, he just stood there, too startled to move.

“A snow fox for Dimitri White,” said Seteth, “and a peacock for Ferdinand Cupid.”

“By the book, what a handsome creature!” Ferdinand exclaimed as the peacock, tail feathers fanned, strutted around him.

Thus encouraged, the other students started shouting their names and pulling their spell poppers as well. Foil snapped and stars shone overhead as creatures dashed out of the forest to meet their new fairytale companions.

Dimitri, however, was torn between an unbearable desire to pet the ridiculously soft, ridiculously furry tail brushing his cheek and the growing need to run away before he somehow accidentally crushed the delicate creature on his shoulder. The fox made a little squeaky mewly noise at him, entirely unaware of its own peril.

“Oh,” he said as its tail whisked at his hair. “Y-you had best be careful… little one.” He twitched as the fox set its tiny paws on his bicep. For fear that it would jump straight into his arms, he reached up, then froze again realizing he didn’t know what he was doing; a few confused seconds later it settled into his arms, looking quite pleased with itself.

This was terrible. Was he supposed to walk around like this now? What if he squeezed it too tight? Why was it so small—or rather, why was he so big? He felt like a giant cradling a baby. Dimitri had never held a baby before.

It’s going to die on me, he thought, but outside he smiled as Ingrid danced around a magnificent pegasus and laughed when the black leopard cub in Felix’s hands batted at his face. It’s going to die it’s going to die it’s going to—

The fox peered up at him with round dark eyes. Its tail wagged a bit.

“Uh…” said Dimitri. “Good boy. Or girl. Are you a boy or a girl?” Toadstools, he didn’t dare moving it another millimeter, even to check.

He looked around, suddenly understanding what it must feel like to be helpless and alone in a forest, no savior in sight. The other students were occupied with their new pets, running in and out of the trees and rolling around in the grass.

Annette gasped as a flaming phoenix alighted on her arm, shedding cinders from its feathers. Ashe sat cross-legged on the ground playing with a bear cub in his lap (as Professor Poppa Bear watched with a look of mild disapproval). Sylvain stood a few meters away, staring at a dragonfly on his finger.

Dimitri blinked. A dragonfly for the Frog Prince?

But then the dragonfly let out a tiny spurt of fire—evidently it could take care of itself. A grin spread across Sylvain’s face.

“Professor,” Dorothea called, “I pulled my spell popper but nothing has come out.” She pointed to the turquoise star that hovered over the stream.

“Get back from the water, Bernadetta!” someone cried out as the stream under the foot-bridge bubbled and swirled.

With a resounding splash, the waters rose up to form the shape of a horse. It shook its mane, sending droplets flying.

“A water kelpie,” said Seteth as Dorothea jumped back from the stream.

Bernadetta was behind her, but she must have pulled her unopened spell popper by accident. With a snap, a silver star shot into the sky.

“Quick, Bernadetta, declare your name!” said Professor Poppa Bear.

“Uh, B-Bernadetta Hood!”

A streak of grey darted out from the trees and circled her feet several times. She relaxed and crouched down to hold out her hand, a faint smile visible under the shadow of her hood.

“A dire-wolf pup,” said the professor. Seteth scowled thoughtfully.

Dimitri looked down at his snow fox. He didn’t want to be ungrateful, but why did the daughter of Red Riding Hood get a wolf and he this angelic, extremely fragile little creature?

A sweet voice said behind him, “No one will ever judge you for being a horse, Dorte.”

Dimitri turned—very slowly, as the fox had now decided to clamber back up to his shoulders—to see Marianne standing by a plain-looking horse, her hands buried in its dust-colored mane. They both glanced his way, but the fox’s tail started tickling his face again, and he had to sort of back away while trying not to look foolish.

“Um,” he said. “Is—is that a horse you have there, Marianne?”

He paused. Obviously, it was a horse.

“Well… yes,” she said, no doubt wondering at his peculiar question. “His name is Dorte.”

Dorte stared at Dimitri. Rather judgmentally. Dimitri supposed he deserved that.

“What a lovely name, ah, Dorte.” Dimitri leaned to the side as the fox tried to settle into a comfortable resting position. His shoulder was probably not the most comfortable place.

“Um… have you named your fox yet?” said Marianne. “She has such beautiful white fur.”

He sighed in relief. “So she is a girl.”

Dorte snorted.

“I’m sorry,” said Dimitri, not exactly sure to whom he should direct his apologies. “I’m not too good with animals, you recall.”

“Oh, no. She is happy to be your friend.” Marianne took a step closer and held out her hand for the fox to sniff. “Don’t be afraid,” she said softly—to the fox or to Dimitri, he couldn’t tell.

“Do you have any suggestions for a name?” he ventured to ask. He wasn’t too good at naming things.

“Um…” Wide brown eyes flickered to him, then back to the fox. “Well. If you truly don’t mind… I think Gala is a nice choice. It suits her.”

He definitely wouldn’t have come up with something like that on his own. “If you think so, then Gala is perfect.” He smiled.

“Oh, okay,” she said. “Glad to be of help.”

They both looked around. Dorte and Gala, it seemed, were no longer invested in this conversation and did not bother to provide any assistance.

Finally, Dimitri said, with another cheerful smile, “Well, thank you, Marianne. I fear what would happen if I tried to find her a name myself. And it was nice meeting you, Dorte.” He had spotted Edelgard walking under a canopy of trees nearby, might as well see what she got.

“You haven’t pulled your spell popper yet,” he said as he approached.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

“Aren’t you curious, though? I mean…”

Beyond the thin fringe of trees that surrounded them, their classmates were having the time of their lives. Adorable animals of every size and shape had emerged from the depths of the forest—an interesting phenomenon, Dimitri thought, as he squinted up into a nearby oak, where a lemur swung about collecting nuts and berries to share with Linhardt. Dimitri had never seen a lemur in the Enchanted Forest before.

“A little.” Edelgard sounded wistful. Then she added, “I had a puppy once. My mother turned it into a bone rat.”

Dimitri drew back in horror. “What?”

“I haven’t had a pet since.”

“Well…” Dimitri had never seen a bone rat before, but the thought of such a creature made him shiver. “Well, I’m sure whatever it is this time, it will be nicer than that.” Gala nuzzled his cheek as if in agreement, and a strange warm rushed through his heart. He couldn’t help smiling a little at the fox. “At any rate… you should probably do it before Seteth notices and says something.”

Her forehead wrinkled. “I suppose you’re right, for once.” She looked at Gala, then down at the crimson spell popper in her hands and gave the ends a tug. “I am Edelgard Quee—”

The ground beneath them rumbled, as if her very name could cause an earthquake.

Linhardt’s lemur vanished into the foliage with a screech. Somewhere overhead, a deep violet star pulsed in the sky—and below, a great beast thundered out from the woods.

It had blood-red scales that shone in the sunlight, huge black claws and huge leathery wings, and a head the size of Gala’s full body, raised to the heavens like a hound’s on the hunt. It lowered its snout and fixed its golden eyes on Edelgard.

“Dragon!” The scream came from the mouths of a dozen teenagers fleeing into the meadow.

Dimitri took a large step back, wincing as Gala’s claws dug into his shoulder. She was urging him to run with the other students, but she didn’t abandon him, only clung tight as a shudder of a growl rippled through her small body.

Edelgard didn’t move. She stood rooted where she was, staring up at the dragon before her.

All of Dr. King Charming’s training seemed useless now—Dimitri’s hands were empty. Could he defeat a dragon bare-handed? Now was probably not the best place to try it…

“Felix, stop!” she yelled.

… but of course, there was one prince who would bring a sword on a field trip.

He was charging into the forest, straight for the dragon, which didn’t even seem to notice. It only sat there and stared down at Edelgard.

Dimitri’s gaze darted from them to the forest path. “Felix, maybe you shouldn’t…”

“I said stop,” Edelgard said.

“It’s a dragon,” said Felix as he came to a halt, his eyes trained on the beast. “I’m a prince. Killing dragons is what I do.”

“Felix!” said Dimitri. “Edelgard, don’t—”

She cut him off with a shout, her hands outstretched, and then—

Crack. Poof.

An invisible force slammed into all three of them at once. Dimitri only saw it send Edelgard flying into the dragon’s belly; then he was lying flat on his back, the wind knocked out of him.

A putrid smell filled the air. Sticky black sludge stuck to his clothes and limbs like glue, stretching with a horrible gurgle as he tried to sit up. The ground beneath him was coated in it.

“What the—” Felix broke off with a cough, covered in even more of the sludge than Dimitri, who had only landed in a puddle of it.

“Fairy godmothers,” said Edelgard from above—the dragon now held her in its huge claws. “I’m sorry. I only meant to stop you. It backfired, as usual…” Concern, and possibly a touch of embarrassment, if Dimitri hadn’t gotten sludge in his eyes, colored her tone and face.

Gala and Felix’s baby leopard sat at the base of a nearby tree, watching.

“Oh, don’t…” Dimitri coughed too. It was taking everything in him not to gag at the odor of sludge. “Don’t worry; it looks like a simple Goo of Death spell. It just takes a bit of…” He coughed again, eyes watering. This was as miserable as battling swamp trolls in Hero Training.

“Some hot water, right?” Claude’s voice said. “I’ve read about it, too.” He glanced around. “Hey, would you girls mind giving us a…”

“I’ve got it!” Annette came running, with Ashe and a dozen woodland creatures bearing buckets of water and scrub brushes in tow.

Birds surrounded Dimitri, fretting and frittering as the combined forces of Claude, Ashe, and Ingrid worked to pull him out of the sludge. He was sure he looked more like Dimitri Red than Dimitri White at this point, mumbling apologies and expressions of gratitude as Ashe and Ingrid helped him wash off the goopy black stuff (Claude had to go help the team that was rescuing Felix, who was having a much harder time getting free).

“Enough of that,” Ingrid said and squeezed her hands dry in one of the now-dirtied buckets. “It was just an accident, not your fault.”

Dimitri rubbed at his white shirt collar, which had now taken on a greyish hue. “Thank you both, again…”

“It's no trouble at all, Your Highness,” said Ashe. He stepped aside as Gala wound through their feet and jumped onto Dimitri’s shoulders.

She nuzzled his cheek, which made it easier to smile again. The birds carried the buckets away, and the others left to wash their hands off in the stream. Dimitri edged back into the forest, hoping to avoid Seteth’s hawkish gaze after that ordeal.

A short distance away, the dragon lay curled up next to a heap of boulders, on which sat Edelgard. The dragon shifted its head, golden eyes settling on him.

“Cool pet,” said Claude as he came up behind Dimitri. “I kinda want me a dragon now, too.” He reached up and absently stroked Earl Grey’s fuzzy head.

Edelgard gazed down at the dragon. “I’m calling her Nevermore. She is very sweet, isn’t she?—and quite small. She’s got room to grow.” Affection warmed her tone as the dragon rubbed her ebony-ridged head against her palm.

“Can I take a picture?” Claude pulled out a full-sized camera from one of his jacket pockets. “I’m on the yearbook committee this year.”

“Um, sure.”

Gala wriggled down from Dimitri’s shoulder again. Right as the camera clicked, she trotted straight up to Edelgard and sniffed her hand. The camera clicked twice more, but Edelgard didn’t seem to notice, holding still when the fox didn’t run away.

With a chuckle, Claude showed Dimitri the pictures—first of Edelgard sitting queenly and serene, facing Nevermore, with a smudge of white on the side of the boulder; the other two showed her looking down at the fox with a puzzled expression.

“They’re too blurry,” Dimitri told him.

Claude rolled his eyes.

“Your fox isn’t afraid of me, Dimitri.” A note of wonder buoyed Edelgard’s voice. “What’s her name?”

“Gala.”

“Gala?” Claude repeated.

“That’s pretty.” Edelgard trailed her fingers through Gala’s snowy fur, still looking amazed.

Claude strolled up to the dragon, which greeted him with a soft snort. “Aww. I think I’m in love with Nevermore. She’s adorable.”

Now it was Dimitri’s turn to echo Claude. “Adorable?”

Nevermore rubbed her head against Claude’s hand. “What big, beautiful eyes you have,” he cooed. “Only as big as a house, yes you are.”

“Are there no dragons in Wonderland?” said Edelgard, as Gala looked up at Dimitri and wagged her tail.

“Only a Jabberwock,” said Claude.

Dimitri reached out to touch the dragon’s tail. Her scales were smooth and silky, cool but alive with strength.

“Sorry, again, about the sludge spell.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said.

“It’s during times like those that having a shortage of magic is… inconvenient.” Edelgard’s gaze remained fixed on Gala, who now sat at the dragon’s feet, peering up in curiosity.

“I understand that feeling,” Dimitri said under his breath.

“Yes. Who would have known we would share something like that in common.” She kept her tone light, but he had to wonder how deep her frustration truly went. Given her disdain for destiny, it was hard to tell whether she wished she had stronger powers—stronger, more evil powers. “At least it wasn’t a bone rat, huh?”

He chuckled. “Anything would be better than a bone rat.”

“Um—excuse me.”

They turned, and Marianne dropped her eyes to the ground. “Seteth says it’s about time we head back.” Gala trotted back over to sniff her boots.

“Ah! Already?” Dimitri checked his watch. “Of course, it should be lunchtime soon.”

“Shame we didn’t prepare for a picnic. I bet the other kids are loath to leave their new friends so soon.” Claude gave Nevermore’s scaly snout a gentle pat and hopped down a cluster of moss-covered rocks. “Would make for lots of nice pictures.”

“Would be quite a mess too, to eat with wild animals in the clover,” said Edelgard.

Marianne watched in vague confusion. Dimitri gave her a reassuring smile. “Claude, Edelgard,” he said to the others, who were still bickering about a picnic, “we’re leaving.”

“Farewell, Nevermore,” Claude told the dragon. “Farewell, Gala,” he said to the fox.

Dimitri bent down to give Gala a scratch between the ears—and as she leaned into her hand, he started to feel loath to leave her, too.

When the trio returned to the meadow to join the rest of their class, they found the other students taking their sweet old time parting with their new beloveds. Seteth stood by the foot-bridge, frowning alternately between his watch and the students.

“See?” said Claude. “Should’ve been a picnic. Maybe you could arrange for something like that in the future, Mr. Royal Student Council President?”

“It’s as Edelgard says; that would be too messy,” he replied truthfully. “Besides, the Castleteria opens up by the Enchanted Forest, anyway. Students will flock there during lunch break.”

Claude shrugged. “Doesn’t make much of a difference to me. I’m just here for the yearbook committee.”

“Is he on the yearbook committee?” Edelgard asked Dimitri, who nodded.

“That reminds me,” Claude said, clapping his hands together. “I wanted to take pictures of all the horse girls and boys. That okay with you, Marianne?”

“Hmm?” said she. “Oh. Well, certainly, you may take a picture of Dorte. He doesn’t mind at all.” She proceeded to retreat from the vicinity of Claude’s camera.

Claude’s eyebrows scrunched up. “Uh… perhaps next time, then.”

Dimitri tried to think of something to say to Marianne, who now stood the perfect distance away for an amiable conversation, but she seemed absorbed in inspecting her fingernails.

Before long, Seteth called an end to the excursion, and once again the chance to talk was gone. As the students headed back to school, Dimitri’s thoughts returned to other pressing matters.

Just one more week, he told himself, and then…

Chapter Text

“And then what?”

Then—huh? Oh. It’s you again.

“Hi, Narrator 1.”

Hi, yourself.

“So what were you saying just now? About Dimitri. One more week… and then what? Legacy Day?”

Well, yes. That was supposed to be the implied ending of the sentence, so it could carry straight over to the next chapter title, which would be “Legacy Day” or something like that. But I just ruined it by answering you.

“Sorry. I mean, you could change the title to something more interesting. Like ‘The Rise of Edelgard and Her Rebel Army.’”

…

“No? That’s not happening? Aw. I really wanted to see what they were up to.”

You certainly are curious about Edelgard.

“I have a vested interest in how things will play out from here. As anyone else would, surely.”

What makes you say that?

“Well, everyone will be interested and watching this time next week. For Legacy Day.”

Yes…

“You sound highly suspicious, Narrator. What is it? Did I catch on to something I shouldn’t have?”

You remind me far too much of Alice. I should have expected this.

“I’ll take that as a compliment. You knew my mum?”

Of course.

“Ha, I should have guessed. Why’d you tell me?”

Because I know she wouldn’t tell you anything if you asked.

“Oh. Yeah, you’re right about that. But actually, that tells me a lot… for example, what my mum might know must be completely irrelevant to this story. Correct?”

…

“Ha! We’re getting somewhere! Next thing you know, I’ll have the tea on everyone at school! Say, if you’re in possession of any other irrelevant facts, care to share ‘em with me? Something harmless, like… why the Grimms all have green hair? I’ve wondered that since I was a kid.”

Why in Ever After would I answer that?

“Oh, because it isn’t harmless? I knew it!”

What…

“I knew it was because Jacob and Wilhelm were descended from trolls. There’s no other logical conclusion.”

There is any number of other logical conclusions!

“Like the reason it’s relevant to this story?”

You—argh, you just don’t give up, do you?

“Never! Oop, Frowny Dimitri is calling me now. Can’t catch a break with him around. Talk to you later!”

That’d be unwise, but at this point, it seems there is really no avoiding you any longer, son of Alice.

Chapter Text

“And that is the history of Snow White and the Evil Queen,” Dimitri said, bringing the presentation to a close. “A tale of jealousy, power, and the ultimate triumph of good over evil.”

Edelgard couldn’t help herself from adding, “And an investigation of how things are not always what they seem.” She didn’t know if anyone heard her over the applause, but Dimitri flashed her a patient smile, to which she only raised an eyebrow.

“Excellent work, you two!” Professor Byleth’s voice was barely audible over the sound of clapping; he cleared his throat, and the classroom fell quiet. “The fairytale you share is indeed among the most fascinating in all of Fódlan. I know you both will do us proud.”

“Thank you,” said Dimitri.

They returned to their table in the back, where they would watch the rest of the presentations. Edelgard couldn’t concentrate on any of them, clapped mechanically after each one, even if she found some of them truly interesting, like Ferdinand and Marianne’s presentation on true love, or Felix and Ingrid’s on chivalric tradition. Her mind wouldn’t stop replaying last year’s Legacy Day ceremony.

The crowds, the mirrors, the eager—and dismal—faces of those who signed… This time it would be her up there on that pedestal, watched by the people of Fódlan and beyond, flipping through the book that contained her future.

What would she find in those pages? What would happen to her once she signed? Would she suddenly become just like Her? Or would nothing change at all?

“Are you feeling well?”

She glanced over at Dimitri, who stared straight ahead, no change in his posture. His expression betrayed nothing.

“I’m fine.” She felt as if a bone rat had made its nest in her stomach. It was terrible, not knowing what she would do, what choice she would make.

Choice, that dangerous word.

Dimitri whispered back, “Everything will be all right.”

Whatever move she made next week, up there in front of the world, she was going to make people hate her. She always did. A small price to pay to make the world a better place. Rebellious little witches like Edelgard Queen didn’t belong in such a world.

As the rest of class dragged on, she realized she didn’t believe that at all.

∞

Legacy Day dawned weak and bleak as Poppa Bear’s cold porridge. Already dressed, Edelgard sat on her bed and watched the sunrise through the open window. Then she pulled out her Home Evilnomics hextbook and started on her assigned reading for the week.

Several hours of homework later, her roommate woke with a start. “It’s today,” Bernadetta said breathlessly. She jumped out of bed, hugging a stuffed wolf to her chest, the hood of her red-and-white checkered pajamas pulled snug over her disheveled hair. “Today is Legacy Day.”

“Are you excited?” Edelgard asked.

Bernadetta didn’t look her in the eye when she spoke, but at least she didn’t try to flee. “A little—I mean, yes. Of course. Just nervous.” Her shoulders were hunched.

“You’re going to be Red Riding Hood,” said Edelgard, matter-of-factly. “The bravest girl in the fairytale world. You’ll do just fine.”

Her roommate glanced up in surprise. “I—really? I mean—thank you. Um.” A closed-mouth smile turned up the corners of her mouth.

“I mean it. Take it from a dark sorceress.”

Bernadetta nodded and set down her stuffed wolf, taking a deep breath. But before she could eke out another reply, the mirror on the wall flickered to life.

“Good morning, students,” came Headmistress Grimm’s warm, steady voice. “And Happy Legacy Day. As usual, the ceremony will take place at one o’clock on the castle terrace. All students are required to attend. Additionally, this year’s event planning committee has worked extra-hard to prepare the Legacy Day Ball, which will be held afterward in the Ballroom at the center of the lake.” She smiled, and it seemed as though she was smiling through the screen, smiling right at Edelgard.

Her voice softened. “You have come this far. Today, second-years, you make your story yours. The future of Fódlan rests on your shoulders.” She leaned back with a subtle nod. “Enjoy your Legacy Day.”

The mirror rippled and went blank. Edelgard heard the headmistress’s unspoken words as if they were directed at her: Don’t disappoint me.

Her mother’s wicked grin. Give them hex, Edelgard.

The two faces merged into one in her mind’s eye. Somehow, they were asking of her the same thing. And she didn’t want to give it.

A knock came on the door. Edelgard opened it to a goblin, short and stout, with greyish-green hide and a bulbous head. Big yellow eyes with slitted pupils gazed up at her in awe.

“My Queen,” he murmured, his voice gravelly and accented with the harsh edges of the goblin language. He bowed. “Your heirloom dress awaits in the cauldron room.”

From somewhere behind her, Bernadetta squeaked.

“Of course it is.” Edelgard straightened. “Lead on, please.”

The goblin nearly tripped over himself in excitement, but he quickly composed himself. He plodded all the way down the dorm towers to the castle kitchens on the first floor, which bustled with activity. Edelgard almost asked why they couldn’t have taken the stairs, but one of the cooks yelled at her to get out of the way.

The goblin opened a cupboard at the back of the kitchen, and Edelgard scurried over to join him, properly cowed.

Then she peered into the cupboard. “Is this… the garbage chute?”

The goblin grinned. “If it is, then garbage has all the fun.” He jumped in and slid away. “Wahoo!”

Edelgard sniffed. It didn’t smell like a garbage chute. And she didn’t want to incur the wrath of the cooks. She gingerly crawled inside, settling onto the cold metal slide—and plummeted.

She screamed all the way down.

The slide evened out at the bottom. With an oof, she stumbled into the castle’s dungeon level, head spinning. Being evil could be so stupid sometimes.

The cauldron room was the villains’ treasure vault, as well as the Science and Sorcery classroom. Edelgard rearranged the disordered layers of her skirt and stalked past a giant bubbling cauldron to the back of the room. There, a veritable troop of goblins waited around an upright iron coffin.

She waved at them to get up when they all tried to bow. “Just get on with it. I mean… please.”

“She said get on with it,” the shortest goblin snapped at the rest. They hurried to unlock the coffin, wielding a massive key bigger than two of them together. The door swung upon to reveal a wire dummy, on which hung the heirloom dress of the Evil Queen. The goblins bowed to her again and left.

Edelgard had seen her mother in this dress, in the Legacy Day photos on the walls back home. It was black, embroidered with veins of red, with a bodice built like armor and a wide, feathery overlay. Spikes were sewn into the sleeves, at the shoulders and elbows. It fit her perfectly.

Too perfectly. She couldn’t wear this. She couldn’t be Her.

She quickly changed back into the clothes she’d been wearing this morning—a scarlet dress of fabric that shimmered like dragon scales, a silver chain belt, and black knee-high combat boots. Good enough.

After a moment’s hesitation, she put on her mother’s cape. Its collar rose high around her neck, and its front was decorated with silver feathers, secured by a ruby-studded clasp. She wore her mother’s crown too, a silver dome with crimson jewels dripping onto her forehead. She was a Queen, after all.

Her mood somehow lifted at that thought. Humming her favorite Tailor Quick song under her breath, she braided her hair down the side of her head and tied it off into a loose tail. She did her makeup too, for once not minding that she had to stare at her reflection to do so. When she finished, she allowed herself a small, satisfied smile. Then she turned the lights off and left the cauldron room.

The goblins outside bowed so low their foreheads touched the floor. “Your Majesty,” they rasped. Creatures that normally stayed in the shadows crept out and followed her as she made her way upstairs—more goblins, bats, even an ogre or two, their claws and teeth clicking in the quiet of the halls.

She emerged on the ground floor, in the great hall of Ever After High, where just a little over a month ago she had stepped through these castle doors and sent the students within fleeing in terror. They didn’t flee today; but their steps quickened as they hurried to the terrace, eyes wide and fixed on her followers as she cut a path through their midst. They shivered in her presence, fell silent. The intoxicating feeling of power rushed through her.

When she reached the Legacy Day terrace, she marched straight past the line of students wanting to get their seats. Her followers hissed and rumbled and scrambled after her. Somewhere along the way she passed Hubert, who didn’t say a word—only looked at her with quiet, almost reverent approval.

And around her, the other students murmured.

“That’s her… that’s the Evil Queen and her goblin army…”

“Hide!”

“Edelgard?”

She turned at the sound of the last voice, relishing the smooth flutter of her cape. Odd to hear him call her by name only.

“Wow, nice fit.” Claude tipped his neat black top hat and stepped around a cluster of first-years cowering in their seats. In place of his usual hoodie and jeans, he wore a black suit with gold buttons over a striped waistcoat and bright yellow tie. “I almost didn’t recognize you there. You doing all right?”

“What?” What sort of question was that?

“That’s quite the army.” Claude peered wide-eyed at the fell creatures behind her. “You really have the Evil Queen act down pat.”

He was speaking the language of Fódlan, but it could have been Riddlish for all she knew. Hearing those words, she didn’t feel so high-and-mighty anymore. She felt more as if she were standing at the edge of a hanging precipice, and the view made her head hurt.

But she refused to show that, especially not to the watchful Wonderlandian who seemed to like prodding at her confident facade so much. “Thank you, Claude. Good luck.” She caught a glimpse of his white smile as she turned away.

Petra approached, apparently unaware of how many heads she turned as she strode through the crowd. Gold string wove through her mulberry hair, which trailed across her shoulders in elaborate braids. She wore a matching tunic tucked and draped in a fashion foreign to Fódlan, embellished in gold with leaf-like designs. “Your look is very lovely and majestic,” she told Edelgard, clasping her hands in sincerity.

Edelgard smiled. “Yours too.”

Petra looked pleased, in that subdued way of hers, and fondly examined the gold bracelets on her wooden wrist. “In my homeland, we are not wearing what you call heirloom designs for Legacy Day. Every piece and clothing is being hand-made for the next Pinocchio.” She held out the edge of her loose-flowing tunic. “Also, this dress has pockets.”

“You make me more and more eager to visit your homeland someday.”

Petra brightened. “Yes, of course! When I am a real girl, I will be bringing all my Fódlan friends to visit my home.”

Edelgard’s smile faded. She doubted the Evil Queen would be counted as anyone’s “friend.” But if there was no new Evil Queen, could there even be a new Pinocchio? Petra had worked so hard to fit in with the rest of the fairytale world, and she wanted nothing more than to become a real girl. She deserved that ending.

There was so much Headmistress Grimm hadn’t told them about the future. Edelgard was only distracting herself with needless speculation again. “Let’s do it,” she said to Petra. “Someday, when all this is over.”

She faced her horde of monster minions. They stilled under her gaze, pure devotion written over their grisly faces.

“Go home,” she said. “I am not your queen.”

“But you are, Your Majesty; you are,” they hissed.

“Then I command you to leave this place,” she replied. “And find someone worthy of your loyalty.”

They growled and whined in protest. She turned and walked away.

Chapter Text

“Why are you so angry sometimes?” Dimitri had asked Glenn once. This had been after the older boy had gotten into another argument with his father, Dr. King Charming. It had been over something trivial again. Dimitri could never understand why the Charmings got into arguments so often, but Glenn and Felix had always been hotheaded.

Glenn was sprawled on the living room couch of his family’s favorite hunting lodge, scrolling through his MirrorPhone. He didn’t look up, only blew a strand of dark blue hair—the same color as his father and brother’s—out of his face. “I’m not angry. This is my natural resting face.”

Unconvinced, Dimitri sat back against the couch. Glenn had the kind of face that made girls around him flutter and giggle, with his dad’s piercing eyes and his mom’s brilliant smile. The expression he wore now would scare off a witch.

“How do you do it?” Dimitri wondered aloud. “Smile one moment and scowl the next.”

“I don’t care to. Smiling is overrated. And it makes my cheeks hurt.” Glenn sat upright and pointed across the room at the gold-framed mirror on the wall. “But Prince Charmings are around to make people feel safe, not afraid. Dad’s right about one thing in life: when you don’t feel like smiling, fake-smile.” He gave one to demonstrate. As a Charming, his smile was unnaturally white—and blinding. Dimitri squinted away the spots in his vision.

Glenn crossed one leg over the other and leaned back. “‘Cause it’s also a really handy weapon.”

“You’re lucky you can actually use that as a weapon.”

“Yeah? Well when you’re king, it won’t matter how much you smile anymore. You’ll already have your happily-ever-after; there’ll be no more need to fake it after that.”

Dimitri had believed him. But after Glenn’s death, nothing felt sure anymore. Not until Legacy Day came safe and sound. Not until Dimitri had the chance to sign, because Glenn had never gotten his.

This would be the last morning he’d have to wake up from nightmares.

“What a glorious day!” he greeted Claude when the latter staggered back from his trip to the bathroom.

“Please, no.” Claude closed the door and proceeded to face-plant onto his bed. A few seconds of labored breathing later, he lifted his head and mumbled, “Why’s it so cold? I wanna sleep.”

Was he not at all excited? “You missed breakfast and Headmistress Rhea’s mirrorcast announcement. You have slept long enough, I wager.” Dimitri glanced out the window from his place at his study desk. “Besides, my heirloom outfit should be arriving any moment now, whatever that m—”

The door swung wide open, catching Claude’s foot in the corner. He rolled over with a yelp, then sat up to gawk.

A stag lowered its head in the doorway, letting a snow-white jacket slide from its antlers and pool on the floor. A pair of robins flew in to deposit a luxurious blue cape on the nearest available object, which happened to be Claude, and a chipmunk scampered up the stag’s back to pluck a gold crown off the antlers. More songbirds entered to drop additional accessories on Claude—white silk gloves, a blue cravat, ornate cufflinks.

A trio of dwarves bustled into the room, wielding small black boxes and many sharp items. The one in the lead addressed Dimitri with a loud smack of bubblegum. “Your Highness, we’re here to fix you up for your big day.”

Pulling a mass of sparkling silk off his shoulder, Claude muttered, “And here I thought we were preparing for Legacy Day, not a wedding.”

A female dwarf, who had half of her head shaved and the other dyed bright pink, looked at Claude in confusion. “Is this commoner a servant?”

Claude scoffed. “A servant to Her Royal Majesty the Queen, long may she reign.”

“Claude,” said Dimitri. He turned to the dwarfs. “He’s talking about the Queen of Hearts, not my mother. I think.”

“I am, of course, just as well disposed to polish His Highness’s royal loafers, should the need arise.”

The lead dwarf stared at Dimitri. “Who would wear loafers on Legacy Day?”

Dimitri sighed. “Claude, I am sorry for the intrusion, but please let’s try to get this over with swiftly.” He eyed the dwarfs suspiciously. “Wait, why are you h—”

The lead dwarf made a snipping motion with his scissors. “Get dressed, kiddo.” He snapped his gum. “Because as long as Archibald Firebeard lives, no king shall ever have to wear a crown with bangs."

∞

Always with the changing fashions of Fódlan came new ways to wear the quintessential crown. Most royals at school wore them, whether or not they followed the recent trends, and not just for decoration. Sylvain’s, for example, distinguished him from an ordinary frog when he changed form. Ingrid cared naught for fashion, but being the daughter of Rapunzel, naturally owned quite a collection for her ever-growing coils. Even Felix, who defied royal convention from head to toe, used a vaguely crown-shaped accessory to hold his long hair up.

Dimitri didn’t mind being the exception. It wasn’t that he disliked wearing crowns—that would be perfectly unreasonable for the son of Snow White. It just felt off to go about his day with a literal weight on his head, atop all the imaginary ones. Besides, he’d been raised to believe crowns shouldn’t be what set a royal apart from the rest.

“Here, Dimitri,” Claude said, tossing a golden crown across the room. In the past hour, he’d gone out to pick up his own suit, then returned to sort through hats while the dwarves attacked his roommate’s hair. He’d finally settled on a simple black one, which together with his polka-dotted yellow tie made a statement Dimitri wasn’t capable of translating.

Swallowing a useless reprimand about throwing around highly important heirlooms, Dimitri caught the crown and put it on, careful not to disturb the hard work of Archibald Firebeard. The crown fit perfectly, like the rest of his outfit—a white jacket embellished with blue and gold, a pair of epaulets, and a deep blue cape trimmed in white ermine. He stared, trying to get used to the look of his hair combed back from his face. A few loose strands dangled over his forehead.

He caught himself scowling at his reflection and spun away from the mirror. “Thank you, Archibald—”

The dwarves and all the woodland creatures from earlier were already on their way out. With a snap of his chewing gum and a careless wave, Archibald Firebeard was gone.

“Well that only took forever after.” Claude plopped down on his bed and shoved his feet into their usual high-tops. His MirrorPhone dinged—or rather, squawked, like a jub-jub bird or whatever he’d called it. “Oh, I gotta go now. The other Wonderlandians are waiting for the main character. See ya in a bit.”

“Of course.” Dimitri slipped his own MirrorPhone into his jacket pocket and joined his roommate outside. “Best of luck, Claude,” he called after his friend’s retreating form. He headed in the opposite direction, toward the Royals’ Common Room downstairs.

Many of the royals, including those in the Legacy Year class, had congregated inside. There, princes and princesses alike surrounded a golden-haired young woman with faintly-glowing, half-invisible wings. Being taller than the princesses around her, she spotted Dimitri as soon as he entered and blessed him with a gorgeous smile.

“Long time no see, Dimitri! You look so wonderfully heroic today. Is there anything I can do for you?”

With her warm eyes and enchanted wand, Mercedes Goodfairy had the ability to make anyone feel a little better—quite literally, even if only until the clock struck twelve. As an alumnus of Ever After High, she was hardly seen around school; but she worked at the shoe shop in the Village of Book End and always dropped by before big events.

“Grant your own wish for me today,” Dimitri said, as he did whenever she offered.

Her brows drew together in protest, but Dimitri ducked out of her line of sight as other students clamored for her attention. Years ago, he’d heard that fairy godmothers couldn’t grant their own wishes, unless of course someone asked them to. Though Mercedes was much more powerful than she let on, her magic was strictly limited outside her story—which was for the best, considering she’d someday be responsible for things like altering the Dark Fairy’s curse on Sleeping Beauty. For now, she kept to simpler tasks.

“Mercedes, can you spell my hair to hold its shape for the full day?”

“Can you please lengthen my cloak, just a bit?”

“Can you give me a cookie, Mercedes?”

“Of course I can,” she replied to most of these requests. “You know you’re not very funny, right?” was directed at Sylvain, who’d asked for the cookie.

Dimitri withdrew to one side of the room, aware of the many eyes and whispers that followed him. “Annette, I’m surprised you’re not already at the terrace.”

The daughter of Cinderella fidgeted with a loose curl of her amber updo. “Yes… I guess I should probably go soon.” She glanced at the clock on the wall and bit her lip. “My stepsisters will never let me hear the end of it if I get my Legacy Day dress turned to rags. That would be so embarrassing!”

“Well then, what are you waiting for?” Felix strolled up behind her, fiddling with his cufflinks. His hair was in its usual bun, but he didn’t seem too happy about the rest of his attire, with the luxurious cloak and boots that would certainly be impractical to run in. Thinking of Claude’s sneakers, Dimitri couldn’t help pitying him.

Ingrid appeared at Dimitri’s side. Her eyebrows rose at Felix’s outfit.

“Don’t,” Sylvain whispered from Dimitri’s other side. “I already made that mistake.”

Felix scowled at the three of them. “I heard that. I swear, if one of you even starts to compare me to—”

“Felix!” Mercedes fluttered over, beaming like a proud mother. “Why, if you don’t look just like—”

Blanching, Felix turned and hurried straight out of the room.

“Oh dear,” Mercedes said. “I was just going to say he looked very charming.”

“Awfully un-charming of him, to just leave like that!” Annette said hotly. “I can’t believe he cut you off mid-sentence!”

“I’m sure it’s only nerves, Annie. It can’t be an easy day for him, after all.” Mercedes made a shooing motion toward the door. “The rest of you had better hurry too, or you really will be late. And I certainly wouldn’t let any of you live that down.”

“You’re a menace to society, Mercedes,” Sylvain said by way of farewell. “A beautiful one though.”

“Be quiet for five minutes, why don’t you,” Ingrid told him.

Annette stormed after Felix, no doubt intending to give him a piece of her mind, which left Dimitri to walk with Ingrid and Sylvain. A fitting arrangement.

“Are either of you nervous?” Sylvain asked after what was definitely less than five minutes. He looked at perfect ease, sauntering along with hands stuck in his suit pockets, his crown slightly crooked and red hair artfully mussed. Dimitri didn’t know how much of it was an act.

“Well, who wouldn’t be?” Ingrid touched the braided portion of her massive hairdo, the rest of which trailed in sleek blonde waves all the way to the floor. She almost never wore makeup, and her fashion sense rivaled Felix’s in terms of pure practicality, but even dressed up as the future Rapunzel, she still looked like herself. “I feel kind of weird walking around with so many flowers in my hair.”

Sylvain chuckled. “What an extremely Ingrid thing to say.”

“It’s quite lovely, though,” Dimitri assured her.

“Thank you. You look really nice, yourself.”

“What about me?”

Ingrid rolled her eyes at Sylvain, then fell into a contemplative silence. Thinking about her destiny, perhaps—about Glenn. Today would have been their day, after all, if he were still here.

“We’ll do him proud,” Dimitri said.

She nodded, mouth set with resolve. They were approaching the castle terrace. Almost as one, the three of them locked their royal smiles in place and strode through the parting sea of students, Dimitri in the lead.

“Look! It’s Dimitri White!”

“The son of Snow White! That’s him…”

“Happy Legacy Day, Dimitri!”

He smiled and greeted his fellow students by name as he passed them. There was Bernadetta, hunched in Red Riding Hood’s crimson cloak; Ashe, interviewing the faculty for the school’s mirrorcast show; Hilda, disappearing in her excitement while she grinned for selfies. Relief battled with worry for control over his nerves. The mirrors mounted around the pedestal showed different views of the crowded terrace, reminding him that the whole world could see him. His parents were likely watching this very moment as he claimed his place among his classmates.

He didn’t have anything to worry about. After all these years of waiting, it was finally time to shut the book on his happily-ever-after. He would be fine. Everything would be fine.

From the front row, Dr. King Charming gave his students a small wave—and a thumbs-up for his son, who ignored him. Felix was waiting for Dimitri, who was to stand before him in line at the pedestal. For once he didn’t look annoyed by Dimitri’s presence. But he didn’t smile either, as Glenn would have.

Shaking his head, Dimitri glanced away. “Oh—Marianne?”

“Dimitri. Hello.” Her hair fell loose down her shoulders, held in place with an elegant ebony crown. Black rose patterns decorated her light blue gown, matching the silver brooch at her neck. Her gloved fingers were laced tightly together. “Um. Happy Legacy Day.”

“To you as well,” he said, right before Hilda dragged her away.

Her solemn brown eyes lingered in his mind. He’d have thought she’d look happier. After exchanging a few words with Hilda, she moved to her place in front of him—she was second in line to sign. It struck him then that he had never inquired further about that, as he had with Edelgard. Perhaps, when this was over…

“Afternoon, Dedue,” Dimitri said as the son of the Huntsman passed by, followed by a petite white-haired figure who took her place in line. “Ah, and Edelgard!”

Dedue bowed, a bundle of well-wishes silent but heartfelt on his craggy face. “Good luck, Your Highness.” He would always be there for Dimitri, as the Huntsman was for Snow White, as his children would someday be for Dimitri’s, as long as their story continued to be told. The smile Dimitri gave him was full of genuine gratitude.

As Dedue left to join the other third-years, Edelgard frowned, looking so unexpectedly like an Evil Queen that yet another knot of tension unraveled in Dimitri’s stomach. Everything was going to be okay.

“Ah, the sun has come out,” Dimitri remarked. The cloudy sky above them cleared, bringing more light to the castle terrace.

Edelgard’s frown deepened.

Headmistress Rhea began the ceremony with a grand speech. Then the first student to sign stepped up to the podium, the mirrors around the pedestal cutting to his face.

“I,” he declared in his booming voice, one hand extended, “am Ferdinand von Aegir Cupid, son of Eros. I am ready to pledge my destiny!” Some students in the crowd started chanting his name as he watched his story play out on the pages of the book, saw his future in the floating mirror that appeared before him. With a noble smile, he signed his page, bowed, and descended the stairs on the other side of the pedestal.

Marianne was next. She moved up the stairs much more slowly than Ferdinand had, her steps graceful but hesitant. The early afternoon breeze blew a lock of blue hair from behind her ear. She self-consciously brushed it back as she declared her own name—at a much softer volume than Ferdinand’s, of course, though the microphones around the pedestal picked it up just as well. When the Storybook of Legends opened to her page, she leaned forward, brow furrowed. She pulled back when her mirror appeared before her. Her expression melted briefly into one of dismay before she took the quill pen and signed.

Dimitri frowned. What could have caused that heavy look in her eyes?—no, it wasn’t his business. It wasn’t his story. Still, he couldn’t fight off that seed of doubt worming into his core.

The line before him grew ever shorter. His heart seemed to shrink with every beat. As he clapped for Petra Wood, who pledged to be the next Pinocchio, he sneaked a glance at Edelgard, whose expression had slackened into one of smooth indifference. She was Petra’s friend. Did she care about other people’s destinies, their desires? Petra fairly bounced down the pedestal stairs, her smile—normally so reserved—threatening to split her wooden cheeks.

Edelgard knew she was part of something bigger than herself; they all did. She knew she’d have to sacrifice herself for the common good. She knew what consequences doing otherwise would bring. Dimitri could only hope that she understood. The future of Fódlan depended on it.

A reverent hush fell over the crowds. It was time.

Those who had signed already watched from the other side of the pedestal, Headmistress Grimm and Seteth from the front row of the audience. The slightest of smiles rested on the headmistress’s fair face. Dimitri climbed the stairs, the thud of his boots swallowed by the near-silence, by the people’s indrawn breaths.

Shoulders back, head raised, he strode up to the podium. The world was watching him right now, trusting in him, believing in him. To carry their stories forward. Carry that hope.

His parents, his future subjects. And Glenn.

But the weight of the crown on his head—a continuation, a melding of legacies—lent him strength. A real smile stole onto his face. Finally.

“I am Dimitri White, son of Snow White, and I am ready to pledge my destiny.”

A golden key materialized in the air and dropped into his waiting hand. He inserted it into the keyhole on the Storybook of Legends, turned it forty degrees to the right, and watched the book transform. The Ever After High crest on the cover turned into one of a blue apple, cool and bright.

The book flipped open and fell still, lying open to a page with a picture of him—an older, already-graduated version of him, with a smile that looked more genuine. He came to life on the page, along with the other characters in his story: Dedue the loyal Huntsman, coming to his aid in his darkest moment; the seven dwarves filling simple days in the woods with work and laughter; and the Evil Queen cutting those days short—Edelgard. She stood over his comatose body, her violet eyes filled with a hate that perfectly matched his memory of her mother. A half-eaten apple rolled past her feet.

The evil in her gaze chilled Dimitri to the bone. He wondered if that was really her—if her taking this path would truly corrupt her so thoroughly—but he pushed that thought away. He’d long ago accepted that would happen. They had to do this, for the very people that watched him so intently now.

When he glanced up, a mirror floated in the air before him. His reflection changed from Prince Dimitri to the dashing, happy King White, a crown on his head, a scepter in hand, his stance regal and assured, his perfect smile perfectly genuine. The perfect ending to his story, when there would be no more pain, no more suffering, no more tears to be shed in the kingdom of Snow White.

He had never wanted anything more.

With a poof! the mirror turned into a pen. The crowds cheered as he put it to paper. His name filled the blank page in the Storybook of Legends—preserved, now and forever after.

Chapter Text

The click of Edelgard’s heels drowned in the sound of cheering. No one seemed to notice her until she arrived at the pedestal where Dimitri still stood. The smile he sent her before stepping away soured her stomach. When had she last seen him this happy?

Silence dropped over the audience when she took her place at the podium. Most of the students appeared to be glaring at her—with fear or malice, she couldn’t tell from this distance. She counted some of Dimitri’s friends among them.

In the front row, Headmistress Grimm’s eyes narrowed.

The weight of all their stares prickled Edelgard’s skin. She searched the crowds for a friendly face. In the third-years’ section, Hubert watched with his arms crossed, wings folded. Bernadetta stared at her, wide-eyed, on the left side of the pedestal. Petra waved from the right.

But—who was that, draped in the shadow of the masses, unseen to the rest? Marianne Beauty, her downcast gaze out of place among faces lit with anticipation and achievement. That new girl, Dorothea Mermaid, hugging herself with something almost like desperation. The sharp-tongued Felix Charming, whose face was set in bitter grief.

Edelgard should have noticed before, even though all three of them wore crowns and ran with royal crowds. Or perhaps it was just wishful thinking again. Either way, she had always been too wrapped up in her own world to care. Isolated, like her mother.

Either way, it was time for a change.

“I am Edelgard Queen,” she bit out. “And I am ready to pledge my destiny.” She hoped no one heard the single note of uncertainty in her voice.

A silver key appeared above her hand. She stared down at the worn, leathery Storybook of Legends. When she slid the key into the lock, the school crest on the cover darkened to the symbol of an eagle feather dipped in red. The book’s yellowed pages lunged open to a picture of her. She instinctively cringed.

In a dim and empty room, Storybook Edelgard gazed at herself in a mirror. Her reflection was sharp and lovely and so, so like her mother. The page turned to a picture of her seated on an ebony throne, scepter extended to a horde of goblins and—shudder—rats. Loyal Hubert stood by her side, changing his soiled gloves to clean ones more suited for her regal presence, ever willing to carry out her plans for her kingdom. He and the goblins and the rats and every other creature of the night would do anything for their queen, anything to ensure all the world would someday kneel at her feet also.

Only one thing stood in her way—the Goody Two-Shoes prince, Dimitri. But as the story went, she had a plan for him, an apple swimming in a pot of poison. And then he was on his knees too, coughing, lips blue, gone, out of the way at last. Present Edelgard leaned forward even as her gut recoiled.

That wouldn’t be enough. Nothing ever was. She watched herself take to the skies on the back of a terrifying dragon—Nevermore, fully grown, a monstrous beast of legend. She ravaged Dimitri’s kingdom and Sleeping Beauty’s kingdom and Charming kingdom, and then turned her sights to Rhea Grimm and her sniveling minions who had forced her onto this path in the first place. She released her mother from Mirror Prison, and together they would wreak havoc forever after, just the way they were meant to do, because if she couldn’t have her happily-ever-after then why should anyone else?

She looked up at the mirror that floated before her. In it she saw her future self, or rather the Evil Queen she’d become, crowned with the remnants of her own magic, violet eyes like cold flames. A beautiful creature born of power and hate. She wore her chains like they were made to decorate her.

But those were chains, not decoration. She blinked, the image burned into her mind even as the mirror transformed into the pen she now held, the tip already pressing into the paper. That Edelgard was trapped—just like she was at seven years old, crying in the dungeons of her own castle as punishment for being nice. Just like the girl who locked herself in her room for two days after her mother left her for Her own ambitions. Just like present Edelgard, who stood now under a hundred fairy lights and the eyes of all Fódlan and the thumb of Rhea Grimm and the cursed name of destiny.

This wasn’t right. Everyone knew the Little Mermaid would fall in love with an unworthy prince who would throw her heart away. Everyone knew Glenn Charming had died when destiny was to protect innocent children from such tragedies. Everyone knew Edelgard was born to kill happiness and sow destruction in their midst. And everyone would let her, because that was the only way to The End.

Her father’s tired eyes filled her mind.

That wasn’t right! Anger surged up from a quiet place deep inside her, and for once—just this once—she let it rule her.

She yanked her hand back from the paper and looked up again. “People of Fódlan, hear me,” she said, louder than before. This time her voice didn’t quaver. “My name is Edelgard Queen, and today, I choose to write my own destiny. My story is mine alone!”

With two strokes of her pen, she crossed out the picture of the Evil Queen. Then, before Ever After High and all of Fódlan, she grabbed her page and tore it free.

∞

The sound of her page ripping made something inside him snap.

“No. No. No!” Dimitri shoved aside the blurred forms around him. Whoever they were, they fell back with stunned cries as he thundered up the stairs. He ignored them. He could see nothing else, nothing but her, and the torn page in her hand. Her story—her destiny—his—

“Stop her! She’s tearing our destinies!”

“We’re all going to die!!”

“How could she—how could she??”

Dimitri staggered over to the podium, where she stood still, eyes wide and a little afraid, but confident. Proud, even.

A giant worm had crawled into his chest, constricting around his throat. Edelgard stumbled back before his shoulder could crash into her. He ignored her too and gripped the sides of the podium—it screeched against the pedestal floor as he pulled it close. “No!” he called to the audience, and he didn’t know if his voice ever made it out to them, or if they would even hear him above their own screams. “Don’t let her do this! Don’t let her destroy your stories too!”

“Dimitri,” she said behind him.

“You can’t give up,” he tried to shout, but his voice withered and failed. “You must still sign! Please—everyone must sign—don’t let them die; please don’t let them die; she’s wrong.” The worm in his core unwound, and he was shaking, and gripping the podium so hard fissures appeared in its surface, and there were tears burning into the back of his eyes so they hurt, until the tears spilled and his every breath choked into a heaving sob.

“I’m sorry,” Edelgard said. Dimitri didn’t know, didn’t care who she was talking to at this point. “But I’ve made my choice now, and I hope you all can too. No one needs to sign. None of your lives belong to this dusty old book! You can choose.”

The podium broke. It split into two horribly imperfect halves as he turned around to face her. “What. Have. You. Done?”

Lifting her chin, Edelgard met him with a steady gaze. “Like I said, I made my own choice. You have choices too, Dimitri. You can still have your story—I just don’t want mine.”

“Your story is my story.” His voice built into a low growl, sounding foreign to his own ears. “Now you’ve gone off-script. You know what happens when you go off-script.”

He saw Glenn, lying in a bed of crushed grass dyed with his own blood. Heard his shock and fear and pain in the screams of the crowd below. Felt, with every part of himself, the horror that came with realizing their perfect world was shattering. That was what happened when people went off-script.

He covered his face with his hands, wanting to block out the memory, but only soaking his gloves, shaking his head over and over again, as if that would wake him up from this horrible, horrible nightmare.

Prince Charmings are here to make people feel safe. To the very end. Calm down, Dimitri.

The End…

He rubbed his eyes til they ached and looked up again. It wasn’t a dream. Princesses were still wailing and fainting left and right, and the faculty didn’t seem to know what to do. Headmistress Rhea, who had been sitting in some sort of stupor, lunged to her feet.

“Enough!” she shouted. “Edelgard Queen…” Even from this distance there was no mistaking the rage that lurked beneath her mask of deathlike calm.

She skimmed up the pedestal stairs, white dress billowing, and reached a hand out to the Storybook of Legends, which lay between the splintered halves of the podium. The book floated out from beneath the wreckage and flew into her hands.

Her glower passed Edelgard and Dimitri both before whisking to the rest of the Legacy Year class. She took a breath as if to steady herself. “This is unacceptable. I had expected so much more from you—all of you. Clearly I was wrong to do so.” She turned back to the stairs. “Legacy Day is canceled.”

The cries started anew, building into a crescendo—and into an ache that drilled into Dimitri’s skull. He glared at Edelgard, wishing he could summon half the lionlike wrath of the headmistress, wishing he could channel it into his glare and make her change her mind. How could she? How could she be so selfish?

She didn’t even look at him. Only grimaced, raised her hands, and commanded, “Everyone quiet.”

Magic whooshed from her palms, and in the next moment she was gone.

Chapter Text

Edelgard didn’t feel much different from before—just free. And it was exhilarating.

The world was so still, not even the wind could touch her now. She stood surrounded by silence, breathing in hard, fingertips tingling with power. That had been raw, untethered magic she’d fired out, not the weak force that usually trickled through her blood. It had come to her so naturally. From where, she would try to puzzle out later.

Apprehension tickled her as her gaze swept the frozen scene below the pedestal: wild eyes, open mouths, accusing fingers pointed up at her. This was it—the key to her own story, her own life. Never mind the angry looks. She had made the right choice.

A small, tentative smile curled across her face. I did it…

Footsteps alerted her to the presence of one her magic apparently hadn’t affected. “I wasn’t sure you’d actually go through with that.”

Her mask of indifference slid back on, easy as ever. “What are you doing here, Claude?” It seemed he was resolved to remain the unpredictable variable. Which she had predicted, to some extent, though not in this way.

“Never quite know myself.” He bounced on his toes. “Guess I’m lucky enough to be immune to your magic. Or maybe you just forgot about me.”

“You don’t seem upset,” she noted.

He shrugged. “About not-signing? Why would I be? I’m not obsessed with my destiny. But, to be honest…” He rocked back on his heels. “I’m not too crazy about what you did, either. Seems a little rash, if you ask me.”

“And wouldn’t signing be rasher?” Edelgard kept her voice even, concealing the doubt that flared up to receive his words. “I don’t plan on waiting to ‘see what happens.’ Pledging my destiny is the first step down a one-way road.”

“That may be so,” he said, “but can you be sure anything would have changed if you did sign?”

“What do you mean?”

“Ach. Nothing… just the ramblings of a mad conspirator.” He flashed a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

Edelgard studied him. “You know a lot more than you let on.”

He widened his eyes and tilted his head in a poor imitation of Hilda Cheshire. “Who, me?”

Yes, he definitely knew something. Edelgard mentally rebuked herself for not taking him more seriously before. “Yes, you. What do you mean about things not changing if I sign?”

“Well, if you really want to know… It’s just a hunch, though.” He hesitated, then leaned forward to whisper, “Two tools.” He held up two fingers. “One for weeds, one for woods, none with ease. And so, you see;” he leaned back with a nod; “a day is not destined; a lock needs no keys.”

Edelgard just looked at him.

“Oh, sorry, did I say that out loud? Riddlish. Sometimes it can be hard to switch back.” He shook his head as if that couldn’t be helped. “I meant… on a wing with a rose, on a chair if it chose, with a puppy and pig in its pocket.”

Edelgard grunted and turned her attention skyward. Leathery wings beat a loud and uneven rhythm as the crimson shape of her dragon glided down to rest beside her. “Nevermore?”

The dragon greeted her with a bird-like chirp. Nevermore nudged forward to rub her horns against Edelgard’s palm and spread her wings, careful not to graze any of the frozen figures on the pedestal.

Edelgard glanced at Dimitri. Pity stirred inside her, seeing him like this—head in his hands, crown all askew, shoulders slumped, the furthest thing from heroic. Why couldn’t he understand? He’d always been kind, but he wasn’t defiant, like her. Still, she hadn’t intended to be cruel to him. Perhaps someday he’d learn to see things from her point-of-view.

But she wasn’t counting on it. She didn’t need him to understand, either. There was no backing down now, and an ugly part of her mind said that maybe, just maybe, it’d be good for him to finally know what it felt like to not have things his way.

“Hey, Edelgard?”

“What now?” Edelgard looked at Nevermore, considering. She’d never ridden dragon-back before. But today was a day for firsts.

“I thought I should let you know, in case things get crazier from here. Which they probably will.” He scratched his ear. “So, you remember that day at the Mad Hatter’s tea shoppe? When you were talking with Dimitri.”

“Yes?”

“I overheard your conversation.”

She frowned, thinking back. “About what?” Then realization sank into her gut. “Oh.”

“I didn’t hear everything, mind. I only got there after Dimitri broke his MirrorPhone. But I heard about your little…” He waved his hat in his hands. “Magic shortage thingy. And I don’t think it took a genius to put together what happened with his MirrorPhone. I mean, the guy’s huge. With the delicacy of a borogove in a doll-house.”

Edelgard pursed her lips. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“You like playing fair. Figured if everyone else was gonna share a secret, I might as well give one too. Plus, it’ll truly drive me mad if I don’t.”

“I thought you were already mad.”

“Madness occurs on a spectrum, and I exist on the lower end,” he told her patiently.

“Oh,” she said. “Okay.”

“But what I’m about to say will sound really mad, so take it or leave it. You see, there’s a voice I can hear that sort of…” He gestured vaguely at nothing in particular. “Tells me stuff. About you, and what you might be thinking.”

Edelgard raised an—Claude! You can’t just tell her!

He threw his hands up. “Why? You’re always telling me random stuff I never asked to hear.”

Those things were never meant for you to hear!

“Who are you talking to?” Edelgard said slowly.

“The Narrator,” he replied.

“That… voice in your head? The one that tells you my thoughts?”

“Yup. Another one tells me Dimitri’s. And it’s not really in my head—it’s all around us; I’m just the only one who can hear it.”

Technically not true, any Wonderlandian with good ears has the ability to hear us, but that’s not important right now. Claude Riegan Liddell, what do you think you’re doing??

“Ooh, full-naming me now, are you?” He turned back to Edelgard with an apologetic shrug. “If you don’t believe me, I can prove it to you. But I don’t want to freak you out.” He paused. “Actually I’ve never seen you freak out, so maybe—”

“No need. I believe you.” He wouldn’t have reason to lie, and she suspected this was the lesser of wonders to be expected of someone like him. He was wrong about one thing, though: he couldn’t be at risk of going any madder than he already was.

Claude’s mouth quirked into a wry half-smile.

Wait. Had he heard that? He couldn’t possibly hear everything she thought… right?

“Nah,” he said breezily, “only the stuff the Narrators deem fit to disclose.”

She narrowed her eyes, pushing down her unease. “And what sort of thoughts does this Narrator deem fit to disclose?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Ones that serve the story, I suppose. To be clear, I never benefit. They’re always strangely silent during Professor Rumpelstiltskin’s pop quizzes, no matter how close I sit to Dimitri.”

Don’t even start, Claude.

“The story, huh?” Edelgard’s interest dulled. “Well, that doesn’t concern me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve probably seen enough plot twists for the day. I should leave before everyone unfreezes.” She swung onto Nevermore’s back, which was twice as roomy as a horse’s. Maybe three times. Unfortunately, that would make it easier for her to slip and fall. She clung to the ridges on her dragon’s neck and strongly hoped that wouldn’t happen.

Claude squinted up at her. “You can relax. She won’t let you fall.”

Edelgard shifted her legs, searching for purchase on the glassy-smooth scales on Nevermore’s sides. “I thought there weren’t any dragons in Wonderland.”

“I’m flattered you assume I have the guts to mount a dragon. Wyverns are much closer to Nevermore’s size, though.” He grinned, and she decided not to ask.

Instead she patted Nevermore’s scaly neck, let out a shaky breath, and gripped a spike shaped like a saddle-horn. “Claude…”

He had taken out his pocket-watch and was now peering at the time (though he was holding it upside-down, for some reason). “Yeah?”

“Thank you.” Before he could answer, Nevermore spread her wings and took off.

∞

The halls of Ever After High were quiet. No one watched her, scurried out of her way, or bothered Edelgard today. For these next few minutes, it was just her and her black bunny slippers, feeling as if she could take on the world. Her heart still beat fast as she walked alone, even as her mind carefully raked through the consequences of what she had done.

It was only a matter of time before her freeze spell wore off, and it would take more time for the Grimms to restore order outside, but none of that mattered right now. She’d calculated the odds; she was in no danger of being expelled from school, because who knew what she would do once out of Rhea Grimm’s sight? Rebels were to be kept in control, after all.

Hugging her MirrorPad to her chest, she passed the darkened doorway of the royals’ common room. After Nevermore dropped her off at a fourth-story balcony, she had stopped by her dorm to shed her mother’s crown and switch out the boots. She kept the cape though. She liked the ashen whisper of its fabric, melting into the shadows, and the way it settled on her shoulders. Probably no one had ever worn a royal cape inside the commoners’ common room before.

The royals’ common room may be grand and noble, but it lacked any cozy cottage charm. Though small, the commoners’ common room was full of life—from the songbirds that freely flew through the wide double-hung windows to the indoor plants that climbed the walls. The chairs were a little hard and uncomfortable, but Edelgard didn’t mind. She didn’t come here as often as she liked, because even the commoners had never been keen on accepting her among them, but they were always kinder than royals at least. Even if the kindness was mostly born out of fear, or awkwardness, or both. Or, in the case of Dedue Huntsman, who was the primary caretaker of the plants, a reasonably high level of distrust. His politeness chilled the usual warmth of the room. But he wasn’t here today, and neither was anyone else but her.

A ringing notification popped up on her MirrorPad. Upon recognizing the caller name, Edelgard took a deep breath and quickly swiped up, accepting the call before she could chicken out.

A familiar face filled the screen. She smiled in a tangled mixture of relief and residual nerves. “Hi, Dad.”

“Hey, Elly.” Lines creased his brow, and his cheeks looked more sunken in than they should be—she’d have to bug Cook again about making him eat more while she was gone. But the crow’s feet around his dark eyes still crinkled when he smiled. The Good King hadn’t changed a bit since she last saw him in person a month ago.

But other things had. She knew why he was calling outside of their regular weekly schedule, and for some reason, she couldn’t shake the sliver of worry buried inside her. It was irrational, yes. Nothing she could do about it.

“You were watching, weren’t you?” she asked, her voice as steady as it could be.

“Of course. You did amazing.”

She charged right on without hearing him. “I’m sorry I never told you what I would do. It was foolish and irrational of me. I could have asked for your advice, or something—I just wasn’t sure yet, and some part of me was, I don’t know, insecure, I guess…”

“It’s okay.”

A lump rose in her throat. She didn’t even know what she was trying to explain, or why. Her choice, broadcast for all the world to see, had been clear enough—no explanation needed there. And it wasn’t as if she feared her father’s opposition.

“It’s been a long day, hasn’t it?” he asked, his voice and eyes filled with sympathy she would have found abhorrent from anyone else. But his was always something she didn’t know she needed, and it—foolishly—made her want to break down.

Instead she nodded, forcing herself to breathe even. To relax her muscles and blink away the tears that threatened to rise beneath her carefully-controlled peace of mind. The commoners’ common room was far from the ideal location for a sob-fest (not that any room was, actually). She wouldn’t be able to face anyone if she was caught crying like a baby after pulling off what she had.

“I think I was twice as nervous as you looked,” her dad said fondly. “I know you’re nervous. But I want you to know, El—when you refused to sign… all I could think was ‘that’s my daughter. That’s my girl.’ I’m proud of you, sweetheart.”

She swallowed. “I believe it was the right decision.”

“It was.”

“What’s that look for?”

A certain familiar thoughtfulness had entered the Good King’s face. “I’m sorry,” he said at last.

“For what?” she asked, bewildered. Her father of all people had nothing to be sorry for.

He sighed. “I am sorry that you had to suffer like this. I wish you could have had a better childhood, perhaps a better time in high school. Things any teenaged girl should have. Instead, you were forced to carve your own path, and I know you will face opposition. I wish I could have made things easier for you. But I’m proud that, in spite of all this, you’ve grown into a young woman capable of carving your own path to the future.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” she said. “You shouldn’t trouble yourself with regrets, Dad. You’ll end up losing what hair you have left.”

He chuckled. “All right, all right. But promise me you’ll be careful.”

She huffed out a dry laugh. “I’m the most careful person I know.” Came with being an inheritor of chaos.

“Not with everything.” He sounded amused. “Be careful with the people around you, El. You were raised a Queen, and you’re used to viewing the world like a giant chessboard. The pieces are either black and white.”

“Not anymore,” she pointed out. “I’m going to change that.”

He nodded. “I know, but chess pieces don’t come in shades of grey. The people around you aren’t pieces in a game. They have their own lives and feelings, dreams of their own—you know that.”

Where was he going with this? Normally his “be kind” lectures were easy enough to receive, but today wasn’t about that. Today was Legacy Day. “I know,” she said, trying to sound patient. “It’s for them that I’m doing this.”

“I’m glad to hear that, but please hear me out.” He raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, okay.”

“I’m the Good King, Edelgard. I loved Her once upon a time, you know. Once she’d played her part in Snow’s story, I thought we could have a chance at something better.”

A knife twisted in Edelgard’s heart. She nodded.

“Believe me,” he said softly, “I want more than anything else for you to be happier than we were. I know you do too. So promise me you’ll be careful with the people around you. Don’t close your heart to them like she did—even if it hurts sometimes; even when it’s scary.”

Edelgard stared at the flower boxes outside the window. Some part of her was grateful her father could still read her like a book; the rest of her wished he didn’t have to know her so well. “I… understand. Do you… do you think she… loved you too? At any point in her life?”

He smiled grimly. “I don’t know.”

For some reason, that was a relief.

She nodded. “I promise I’ll be careful, Daddy. I do care for my friends.” Even if there weren’t many of them.

“I’m proud of you, Elly.”

She rolled her shoulders and leaned back against the hard-and-uncomfortable armchair. “Thanks. I’m… glad I could make you proud.”

“Oh! There is one more thing though, before you go.” Her father looked down at something. “The live mirrorcast cut off very abruptly after you threw everyone in an uproar.” He showed her his MirrorPhone screen, which was open to a shot of the frozen Legacy Day terrace. The picture was blurry, but that was Edelgard on the pedestal, hands outstretched, with Dimitri and Headmistress Rhea standing nearby.

“Um…” She blinked and leaned in for a closer look. “My, is that Claude on the stairs behind me?”

Her dad frowned. “Who is Claude?”

“Alice’s son. One of my classmates.”

“He a friend of Snow’s kid? Wait—don’t try to distract me, young lady. What did you do to the connection?”

Edelgard bit back a smile. “Sorry, Dad. I didn’t expect things to get so overwhelming, so I reacted before I thought… I ended up freezing everyone.”

He sighed, tapping the side of his MirrorPhone case. “All right.”

“I will apologize to the news team. Once they, well, unfreeze.”

“And when will that be?”

She lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug.

“Elly.”

“It’s fine, Dad. I have thought this through and through. I have never gotten a detention before, remember?”

“That’s not the… ah, very well. There’s nothing I can do about it, is there?”

“Eat more, and stop worrying so much,” she suggested. “You need to take better care of yourself while I’m gone.”

He laughed. “Okay, I’ll try. I promise I’ll try, how about that?”

“Good enough. I will hext Cook a firm reminder as well.”

“That’s the Edelgard I know.” He gave a fond sigh, then frowned. “I have to go now—we can talk more on Friday. Love you.”

“I love you too,” she said, waving goodbye. She ended the call, exhaled, and slid her feet back into her bunny slippers. They were made of exquisite black fur, a birthday gift from her dad. She had a second pair that she actually used in her own room, but those were white and fluffy and didn’t exactly fit her projected image.

Footsteps pounded down the hallway. She bolted upright as the door flung wide open.

“Lady Edelgard!” Hubert—who never used his wings if he could help it—fairly soared into the room, barely avoided direct contact between a low ceiling beam and his head, and alighted on a toadstool-patterned throw rug on the floor. He very primly folded his jagged wings behind his back. “Ahem. Forgive my haste.”

She didn’t try to disguise her mirth. “No harm done, Hubert.”

“There you are!” came Petra from behind him. “Are you feeling all right?”

“Just as I predicted! She is indeed—” Ferdinand Cupid cut off as he flew in, did make direct contact with the same ceiling beam Hubert had so nearly missed, and tumbled (with grace) to a carpet-less section of the hardwood floor. Neither Hubert nor Petra made any move to help him up.

The pearl-strung, chestnut-haired head of Dorothea Mermaid poked into the room next. “Is she in there? Can I speak with oomf!”—she got a face full of feathers. “Land’s sakes, Ferdie, give a princess some space!”

“Over here?? There she is!!” Caspar Ivory barreled through the door, calling over his shoulder, “Found her!!”

Edelgard stared at the son of the famously loud-voiced White Queen and the accomplice he dragged in with him. “Caspar—and Linhardt? And…” She looked around at the others, who were now crowding out the place. “What are you all doing here?”

“Gads, what a tiny common room!” Caspar exclaimed. “No wonder it’s the commoners’ common room.”

“Whatever after that means.” Linhardt ambled to a corner propped with a beanbag and cushions. “Please excuse me.” He fluffed out a few pillows in strategic locations and promptly collapsed into a snoring heap.

“Aaand he’s out.” Dorothea turned to Edelgard with a dimpled smile. “Sorry, were we interrupting anything important?”

“No, not really.” Edelgard shifted her bunny-slippered feet.

Caspar plopped down next to Linhardt’s unconscious form, shoving the bulk of his body aside. “Everyone’s out looking for you! Well, the other royals are just having a pity party, but staying in a room full of weeping people makes me kinda uncomfortable, so I thought I’d join the hunt.” He pointed at Linhardt. “He just wanted a place to sleep.”

“One would think sleep would not be so alluring a venture for someone destined to do it a good hundred years,” said Hubert, with obvious disdain. He turned to Edelgard. “I came to check on you, My Lady. You must be feeling rather taxed.” She had, after all, cast a powerful spell of large proportions.

She nodded. “Thank you for your concern. I’m fine.” She imagined the fatigue would come crashing down later.

Dorothea stepped forward. Edelgard didn’t recall ever speaking to the girl. She usually hung out with the other princesses, but Petra—who’d been her partner for Professor Byleth’s class project—mentioned she was fairy nice. Her eyes shone like the shards of green bottle-glass you could find on the beach.

“I’m only speaking for myself here, but I thought what you did up there was incredible.” She clutched her clam-shaped handbag to her chest. “I really should have talked to you sooner. I thought all the other royals at this school loved their destinies, and I was just a fish out of water or something… which I am, I guess, technically.” She laughed, the sound as bright and clear as a fairy’s. “The point is, I never liked my story much, either.”

“Oh?” Edelgard had been right, then. The Little Mermaid was one of the five founding princesses of Fódlan, and the only one among them to have an unhappy fate.

“I was excited to come to Ever After High.” Dorothea’s smile turned heavy. “Landers fascinate me, you know? But it’s mind-blowing to me that everyone considers their destiny their biggest honor. Where I come from… my story isn’t looked upon so highly. It’s tradition for the daughter of the Little Mermaid to enroll at Ever After High once she turns fifteen, but my parents wanted me to stay as long as I could before they let me go. Before they would lose me forever.”

The room had fallen quiet, but for the sound of Linhardt’s soft snores. Caspar’s face was screwed up in some indescribable emotion, and both Petra and Ferdinand wore thoughtful frowns.

“I’m sorry,” Edelgard said quietly.

“No, don’t apologize. You changed everything, you know that? If you can write your own destiny, then I can too. We all can.” Dorothea smiled again. “So I guess that’s all. I just wanted to thank you.”

Petra nodded. “Yes, from here on we will be choosing our own roads to walk. I still want to become a real girl, but I am wondering if there is…” Her mouth turned downward. “A different way to be getting there.”

“There must be,” Edelgard assured her. “We’ll forge our own paths to destiny. I’m honored to have your support.” In fact, she couldn’t begin to sort out how to feel about it. She was accustomed to being the scary, unapproachable girl, not someone others could look up to.

But this… well, this was nice.

“Edelgard’s not scary,” Caspar piped up suddenly. “One time in nursery-rhyme I beat up a bunch of Merry Men for sticking a KICK ME, I’M EVIL sign on her back. If she were really like her mom, she’d have turned them all into caterpillars or something. I didn’t think too deeply about it then, but she was just another kid, like the rest of us.”

No one said anything for a moment.

Edelgard blinked. “Where is this coming from?” She had nearly forgotten the whole incident.

Caspar shrugged. “I heard a voice call you scary and it reminded me of that time.”

Darn…

“Who did this, you say?” Hubert asked, his silky voice several shades darker than usual.

Before Caspar repeated himself, Linhardt jolted awake and said without prelude: “Ballroom after-party. Hybrid carriages are here, and they’re all wondering where you are. You’re going to be late.”

“Ack! You’re right!” Dorothea glanced wildly around for a clock but found none. “Caspar, Lin, you’re both coming, right?”

“I don’t wanna,” Linhardt groaned.

“Come on, Lin, just this once,” said Dorothea. “You’re destined to sleep for a hundred years! You gotta live it up while you still can!”

“Did we not just have an inspiring conversation about carving our own paths to the future?” Hubert asked in vague amusement.

She huffed. “Well, neither of you seem dissatisfied with your story, anyway.”

“Hey, have any of you had lunch?” Caspar asked while the others continued to bicker. “I’m famished, and those party sandwiches and tea-cakes they’ll probably serve at the Ballroom won’t cut it for me. Why don’t we all just go out to eat?”

“A fine idea, Caspar!” said Ferdinand.

“I am feeling rather hungry,” Petra agreed.

Edelgard checked the time on her MirrorPad. “Book End might be a bit crowded, but I think it’s a good idea. Why don’t you come along, Linhardt?”

“Well, I suppose that’s preferable to a party.”

“Huh!” said Dorothea. “If you’re all going, then I might as well join you. The other royals can miss me for one day.” She grinned.

Hubert turned back to Edelgard. “You may lead the way, Lady Edelgard.”

“Excellent,” said she, no longer able to suppress a budding smile, “but you can all go on ahead.” She pointed in the direction of the dorms. “I need to change my slippers first.”

PART ONE COMPLETE

The End is just the beginning…

Chapter Text

For some people in Fódlan, destiny was rather hard to come by.

Legacy was identity. Legacy was power, rank, and authority. Legacy made the world go round. If you didn’t have one, you were nobody. A nobody had no chance of becoming a main character, and only main characters made a difference in the story.

There were exceptions, of course; there always were, but those came with one hex of a price-tag attached, as exceptions tend to do. As such, most people never thought past the fabled warning to “never go off-script.” Most people only saw chaos and destruction after those rare occurrences—not opportunity.

Luckily for him, Yuri Badwolf was not most people.

Ordinary extras rarely reached for more than what they had, but it was in the nature of a Wolf to seize anything that came his way. Yuri simply learned how to beat the others to it.

Otherwise, he would’ve never received the biggest and baddest legacy of them all—would’ve never made it to the people’s castle in the sky, Ever After High. Only by fighting for himself tooth and nail (quite literally sometimes) had he arrived at this point: destined for a story he wasn’t born to fulfill, all because Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf had to compensate somehow for going off-script. Yuri’s signature on the Storybook of Legends was their compensation.

It was a signature that might have just been utterly nullified.

Seated in the front row of the third-years’ section of the castle terrace, where the school’s mirror-tech crew and mirrorcast staff clustered around a too-small table, the foster son of the Big Bad Wolf stared agape at the Legacy Day pedestal. The screen on the mirror before him depicted the same image as the those mounted around the pedestal: that of the white-haired girl at the podium, who stood with arm raised, holding up for the world to see her page from the Storybook of Legends.

A swirl of emotions, both foreign and familiar, raced through him—shock, delight, horror, admiration, and under all that a slick, irrational fear. That last one lingered far longer than it was welcome: it crept into the invisible cracks of the things he had done to get where was now, threatening to render them pointless. Yuri the Wolf had rather thought he’d mastered the art of control, but today he was humbled. Nowhere in his calculations had he ever predicted someone going off-script this badly.

It was only when the masses erupted into a much noisier, much more untethered version of this irrational fear that he returned to his senses. As students and teachers alike thundered up the pedestal stairs, sowing even more chaos amongst themselves, Yuri leaned across his table to disable the mirrorcast audio. In the same movement he swiped a container of smelling salts from Constance’s handbag and passed it to her with his other hand.

“Keep shooting,” he shouted at the camera crew, with no guarantee they could hear him over Constance’s hysterics. “We’re going to need it later.” He’d for sure get a visit in the mirror-lab from his best-friend-forever-after Seteth for a recording of this disaster.

“I can’t believe she just did that,” Hapi said beside him, a deep furrow etched between her eyebrows as she switched off the mounted mirror-cams one by one. “Can you believe she just did that?”

Snap. The air around them crackled with magic—then with a poof! all the mirrors on the terrace blanked out.

The mirrors on the table reflected only the confused and panicked scene around them. Yuri turned toward the nearest cameraman, who only raised his hands in a helpless shrug.

“Curses,” said Hapi.

Yuri swung his gaze to the Legacy Year class. He waved to catch Ashe’s attention and mouthed What happened?

Ashe mouthed back What? which wasn’t helpful, so Yuri turned elsewhere. He caught Bernadetta’s eyes for a fleeting moment, but she looked away with what he imagined was a mouse-like squeak. He would roll his eyes if he had the time, but as it was he spotted the headmistress next, and she was moving back indoors at an alarming speed even for a middle-aged woman.

He hopped out of his chair, slinging his coat over one shoulder. “Hapi, can you take over clean-up? Thanks, see ya.”

“Got somewhere to be, Yuri-bird?” She sounded annoyed.

“I’ll buy you coffee tomorrow,” he promised and loped off.

Going in his Wolf form would be faster, but under normal circumstances that would also get him caught. It was hard to miss a giant purple wolf bounding across the school campus, as he had learned the not-fun-can-get-you-expelled way. His human form was sufficient for most situations. He shrugged on his coat and slipped into the shadows.

As a general rule, Yuri didn’t mess with school faculty. Nobodies like him didn’t belong at the oh-so-prestigious (and spella pricey) Ever After High, and one wrong step would send him packing. He’d already bungled it once, and once was enough.

Didn’t help that Headmistress Rhea only agreed to let him stay last time on the condition that he keep an eye on some of the “trouble kids” (the irony of a trouble kid monitoring others of his kind was not lost on him, but hey, he wasn’t complaining. If playing the obedient hound would help him keep his coveted seat, so be it). He desperately hoped Edelgard Queen wouldn’t be added to that list. She seemed a cut above the rest.

He followed the headmistress all the way to her office but stayed outside to eavesdrop. If he was caught he’d play the “scared young puppy who needs guidance” angle until she either had pity on him or got annoyed enough to let him off the hook. As experience and the past two years at EAH had taught him, so long as he didn’t do something as downright asinine as actually sneak into her office, he’d be fine.

His Wolf ears easily picked up any noise within—the rustle of pages as Grimm flipped through the Storybook, the thud it made when she set it back into its case, the turning of the key. Then she started pacing, and Yuri’s ears rotated to catch what she was muttering to herself.

“She has no idea. She has no idea what she’s doing… That poor, misguided child.” Rhea sounded as if she was trying to convince herself, not at all as if she believed Edelgard were truly nothing but a lost little lamb. Her voice lowered into a taut whisper. “Why can’t they understand what must be done…? Why must they still question these laws?”

Her steps slowed, halted. Based on his knowledge of her office interior, Yuri guessed she was facing the wall with the painting of Sothis, the ancient queen who was said to have founded Fódlan, and her children, who had used their primeval magic to aid in the preservation of fairytales. The woman was oddly obsessed with that painting.

“I must not let your legacy be tainted again,” she said softly. “Never again.”

She stood still for a moment or two. Then her steps moved toward the door, and Yuri took his cue to slink into the corner behind a nearby gargoyle statue. He preferred to play it safe, even though she wouldn’t be able to see him; he was wearing his Coat of Infinite Darkness, which looked about as elegant and tasteful as its name sounded, but he had been seven and not expecting it to grow in size with him. He still held on to it because it really did seem like a coat woven from sheer darkness. And also because of the sentimental value.

He waited until the headmistress had completely disappeared from view down the hall. As he turned to leave as well, his ears twitched.

His Wolf’s ears never deceived him, no matter how bizarre the message they brought. A muted cackle had come from inside the office.

Yuri tilted his head as the cackle deepened into a woman’s laugh.

Chapter Text

The day after Legacy Day dawned bright and cheery, filling Dimitri’s room with buttery yellow sunshine. He trudged inside, his hair still hanging damp over his eyes from his shower, and slammed the door shut behind him. The hinges squeaked in protest.

Claude was nowhere to be seen. Probably already off to breakfast. He’d been fast asleep when Dimitri slipped out to the training fields earlier that morning, which had struck Dimitri as a little odd—Claude was normally a light sleeper—but perhaps the events of the previous day had taken a toll on his roommate too. Even though the son of Alice had shown no signs of being disturbed at all last night.

Dimitri’s MirrorPhone buzzed with a notification from his mother. The message asked, in small and incriminating black letters, how he was feeling this morning.

A bitter taste filled his mouth. Lying to his mom, or really anyone else, was against the Rules. But between that and causing her to worry, he always had to choose the lesser of two evils. He replied with I’m fine and a smiley face emoji, then turned the phone over on his desk.

At least Felix hadn’t asked how he was feeling earlier. Not that Felix ever had time for such niceties. When not trying to batter Dimitri with a sword he had mostly spent their time doomsaying the future now that the Boar had let its true colors show.

“You’d better hope no one noticed your little spell yesterday,” were his exact words. “Though I doubt anyone would care about you after what she did.”

“Is this some sort of warning?” Dimitri asked, out of a mild interest for Felix’s stake in this matter.

His childhood friend’s perpetual scowl deepened. “Don’t be ridiculous. If it ever came to that, I’d sooner cut you down right then and there.”

Felix had a way with words. Despite their cutting edge, they almost comforted Dimitri. If Felix Charming’s loyalties—if you could call them that—hadn’t yet changed, perhaps there was still hope after all. Even though that could always be just because Felix was notoriously stubborn.

Then again, so was Dimitri.

He wouldn’t let his destiny go so easily, not when the lives of innocents were still on the line. His mother’s voice on the other end of last night’s call had been deceptively calm, but he knew better. Snow White was utterly distraught. This time, who was there to save her?

Dimitri ran into Edelgard on his way to breakfast. He didn’t force himself to smile at her today. He only nodded a little, and she nodded a little in return. They walked to the Castleteria at the same pace, she perhaps unwilling to let him beat her there. They did so in heavy silence until Claude fell onto a suit of armor at the end of the hall.

The knightly armor collapsed into a heap of metal, Claude seated cross-legged on top—his expression one of surprise with an undertone of delight.

“Claude?!”

“Top of the morning to you both,” he replied as he sprang to his feet. “What a coincidence, catching you at this hour!” He plopped his hat of the day—brown with a banana-yellow bow-tie—on his head and bowed.

Edelgard peered at the ceiling. “How did you do that?”

“I jumped off my room balcony,” he said cheerfully.

“Then… how did you wind up here?” Dimitri asked. There were no open windows or holes in the ceiling through which to spontaneously drop. At least, none that he could see.

Claude yawned. “Found a rabbit-hole. Happens all the time.”

“A rabbit-hole from your balcony to this random hallway?” said Edelgard. “Impossible.”

“Why, Edelgard,” Claude replied, striking off toward the Castleteria at a tortoise’s pace, “you can believe in as many as six impossible things before breakfast. This is only my fifth. Whaddya think the last one will be?”

A ferocious growl was his only answer.

He jumped back. “Is there a monster in here??”

“That was my stomach,” said Dimitri, somewhat abashed.

“You have a monster in your stomach?!”

Edelgard sighed. “Don’t be ridiculous, Claude.”

“Don’t you tell me what to be or not to be!” Claude resumed his tortoise-paced walk in the direction of the Castleteria. “Let’s get you both to brekkies before the monster in Dimitri’s stomach consumes us all.”

Shaking his head, Dimitri turned to follow.

As it turned out, they needn’t have hurried. Moments before reaching their destination, a red-cloaked figure darted out of the Castleteria.

“Bernadetta?” said Edelgard. “Wait—”

The figure streaked down the hall and vanished around a corner.

Claude blinked. “Has anyone else ever noticed how fast that girl is?”

“She outran Felix in a gingerbread-man-race last year,” said Dimitri. “I think it’s the Red Riding Hood instinct.”

“Whatever after was she running from?” Edelgard wondered.

Upon entering the Castleteria, they found out.

As usual, the students of Ever After High sat in groups of royals and commoners. But today the division was drawn like a line down the middle of the Castleteria. Stiff-backed royals glowered at disarrayed commoners, the air between them thick with near-tangible tension. Students on both sides wielded spoons and ladles dripping with pea porridge.

Dimitri frowned as he took stock of the situation. “What is going on here?”

Shouts from both sides answered him, but they fell silent when Edelgard stepped up—though not without a little booing from the royals’ tables.

“One at a time now,” she said sharply. “Petra?”

The daughter of Pinocchio stood at the end of her table. Her dusky wooden complexion and crisp white blouse were spotless, but a glob of porridge had lodged in her ponytail. She swung her dagger-like gaze from whichever unfortunate soul had been the source of that porridge to Edelgard, whereupon it turned uncertain.

“I am feeling hesitant,” she said. “When I came here, I found everybody throwing porridge at one another. I am not acquainted with this custom.”

Dimitri blinked. “That’s because it is not a custom. Sylvain?”

His friend popped up from behind a pot-lid shield he shared with Ingrid. “I don’t know; they just started throwing food at us.” He shrugged. “So we sort of retaliated.”

“The royals started throwing food first!” Caspar Ivory bellowed.

“Traitor!” cried Annette. “Aren’t you one of us?”

“I’m just saying!”

Claude stepped up between Dimitri and Edelgard. “Could this be my sixth impossible thing?”

“Now is not the time for joking!” Ingrid stood too, her pale cheeks flushed. Porridge seeped through the interlocking braids of her long blonde hair, sticking them together. “This should not be happening. Throwing food is… is…”

“Childish!” said Lysithea Breadhouse. “So why did you royals start it?”

“Well, none of this would have happened if Edelgard hadn’t ruined Legacy Day in the first place,” someone else shouted.

“All she ruined was the imprisoning system of destiny!”

“Some of us have worked hard our entire lives for our happily-ever-afters,” Annette said, her face reddening.

“Not all of us have happily-ever-afters to work toward,” Dorothea Mermaid retorted.

Ashe Lockes glanced between the two groups, eyes wide with dismay. “None of this is just right,” he told Dimitri. “None of it at all!”

“We all have our parts to play,” said Hapi Coral. “If I have to be the Sea Witch, then Edelgard should suck it up and be the Evil Queen for a turn.”

“We all know what happens when you go off-script,” Felix said.

Linhardt Beauty folded his crownglasses and put them away. “To be quite clear, it’s not been proved exactly what happens when people go off-script…”

“A lackluster way of putting it, perhaps, Linhardt.” Ferdinand Cupid whisked down from the upper galleries. “Our stories are our lives. Edelgard only seeks a noble one, just like the rest of us.”

“You can be astonishingly naïve for a demigod,” said Sylvain. “Even if you could choose your own fate, which has never been an option in this world, the chances of being ‘evil’ significantly outnumber those of being ‘good.’”

“Do to your highest effort the calling that has been given to you!” Lorenz Hearts declared. “Or off with your heads!!”

Dimitri turned to the royals. “Please, friends—enough. Arguing like this will get us nowhere.” He raised an eyebrow at Lorenz. “Are we not called to be better than this?”

The son of the Queen of Hearts harrumphed. “No, not really.”

Dimitri forced his expression to remain open and persuasive. “But surely you, Lorenz, can agree to be better than arguing and flinging porridge at each other like children.”

“Oh, people in Fódlan are so uncultured,” said Claude, unhelpfully. “In Wonderland, food fights are a sign of good manners!”

Dimitri turned back to the royals. “I know we are in an uncertain place now, but that won’t last forever. We still have time to mend our mistakes and—”

“Edelgard’s rebellion was not a mistake!” Caspar bellowed. Beside him, Dorothea nodded and moved toward the commoners’ tables.

Dimitri tried to speak again, but a heavy sigh cut him off. Nearby, Constance Marsh stirred her bowl of porridge with perfect form, pinkie-out and all, her shoulders somehow sagging despite her rigid posture.

“Maybe it was,” she said dimly. “After all, we are only teenagers. What do we know of the real world?”

This caused a whole new wave of protests from both sides. Constance’s countenance drooped further, as if in regret that she had spoken up at all.

“This isn’t helping anything,” Edelgard said to Dimitri.

“I know,” he replied through clenched teeth. He tried again anyway. “Everyone, please. If we put our differences aside for but a moment, we can surely—”

Splat.

The Castleteria fell silent for just the moment Dimitri had requested—everyone staring at the spoonful of porridge that dripped slowly down the side of his shoulder.

Behind him, Edelgard sighed, and Claude sucked in a breath between his teeth.

On the royals’ side, Sylvain straightened to his full height behind his pot-lid, pushing up his sleeves. “It’s about to get all nonfiction in here.”

“BRING IT!” Caspar hollered, and instantly received a pie in the face. With a wild battle cry, he launched a plateful of pudding back at his attacker, and the first food fight in the history of Ever After High began in full-swing.

“See, I told you!” Claude said to Edelgard. “My sixth impossibility!” A stray banana peel caught his cheek. He whirled around. “All right, who threw that?”

No one answered. Teenagers shouted, cursed, and wailed as they sent pieces of their breakfast flying through the air. Food splattered on the floor and tables and on too many people’s heads. The royals abandoned all pretense of poise and yelled with as much vigor as the taunting rebels—and with twice as much motivation as they did for basketball games in Gymnastics class.

“OW! What was that for, Sylvain?”

Sylvain, half-covered in swamp soup, glanced over to see Hilda Cheshire picking green beans off her shirt collar. He started to back away, wide-eyed.

“Shoddy defense as ever, I see,” muttered Felix, dodging a bundle of peppermint sticks that shattered on the ground in a blaze of Lysithea Breadhouse’s pink-hued magic.

“You have to do something,” Dimitri said to Edelgard, pointing to the rebels. “You’re their leader. They’ll listen to you.”

She made an irritated noise and raised her voice. “Everyone, stop—” She cut off with a gasp and ducked. A gravy-soaked biscuit sailed past her and struck Dimitri instead.

“Sorry, Didi,” Hapi called.

Dimitri, Edelgard, and Claude retreated behind the giant pot of porridge on the sidelines.

“How do we stop them?” Edelgard said.

“I don’t know!” said Dimitri. “I’ve never dealt with a food fight before!” He grimaced as gravy seeped through his shirtsleeve. Next to him, Claude shook his head and covered his ears.

Hubert Thorn walked into the Castleteria, took one look at the chaos, and walked right back out.

“You know,” Edelgard said tightly, “maybe this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t said anything earlier.”

“What?”

“About my choice being a ‘mistake.’” She turned to look at him, her gaze cool with disdain.

Dimitri set his jaw. “That’s what I believe—that it will lead to unnecessary casualties.”

“The point of forsaking destiny is to face the unknown. You don’t know there will be unnecessary casualties.”

“When the Evil Queen went off-script—”

“I am not my mother!”

Claude’s eyebrows rose with his hat, which floated off his head—along with the gravy on Dimitri’s clothes, the drippings on the side of the porridge pot, and the ribbons in Edelgard’s hair. For a split second they all hung in the air, suspended by a flash of purple magic.

She blinked, and the magic ceased. The brim of Claude’s hat flopped over his eyes, and food globs re-splattered onto Dimitri.

None of them spoke for a moment.

Then Edelgard said, calmly, evenly: “I am sorry for losing control.” She took a deep breath, appearing to choose her next words carefully. “Just let me make one thing clear. No matter what, Dimitri, I’m not trying to hurt anyone here. That is not my intention. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

Behind her, Claude’s eyebrows lowered into an inscrutable frown.

Dimitri sighed. “I understand.”

What he didn’t understand was why she still had to hurt people anyway. How could one prevent pain by causing pain?

“All right, all right, enough with your high-minded disagreements,” Claude said, snapping back into the conversation. “Don’t we have more immediate matters to handle?”

For once, the guy had a point. He seemed to realize this too, when both Dimitri and Edelgard swung their gazes to him. “Uh… did I get porridge on my face?”

“Why don’t you go talk to them, Claude?” Edelgard’s voice had that same lilting warmth she’d used before to coax information out of Linhardt Beauty.

Claude looked taken aback by this uncharacteristic display of friendliness. “Why me?”

“The Wonderlandians at least will listen to you,” said Dimitri.

Claude scoffed. “Yeah, look, big guy. I wouldn’t presume to call myself the leader of a faction like either of you might be. For example, Lorenz has never agreed with a single thing I’ve ever said.”

“Felix, too, contests me at every turn,” said Dimitri truthfully. “It’s a part of leadership.”

“I wouldn’t say the likes of Ferdinand would accept me as a leader, either,” Edelgard added sardonically. “Don’t be ridiculous, Claude. Whether or not they like you, people do listen to you.”

“At any rate, Edelgard and I both have people who hate us at the moment. No one hates you,” Dimitri pointed out.

Claude and Edelgard looked at him in surprise. “Who in ever after hates you, Dimitri?” Claude asked in genuine puzzlement.

Dimitri didn’t feel like answering that question, so didn’t.

“Just try,” Edelgard told Claude. “We haven’t a thing to lose at this point.”

“I’m sorry, but you weren’t hit in the face by a banana peel just now, so maybe you haven’t yet experienced the loss of dignity at—”

“Claude!!” A very forced-looking grin appeared next to him, minus a Cheshire Cat’s body. “You have to stop them!!”

“I thought you liked food fights, Hilda!”

“Well, I grew used to not having an entire peck of pickled peppers in my hair, thank you very—” She cut off with a feline screech, her smile vanishing into thin air, as a loose stack of peter-pancakes hurtled past her.

Edelgard cast Claude a meaningful look.

Claude sighed, stood up, and shouted—hands over ears—“EVERYONE QUIET!!”

The Castleteria fell silent. For about two seconds as everyone glanced at him, before they promptly resumed their battle.

He turned back to the others with a shrug.

“What now?” said Edelgard.

“Well, I don’t know.” Dimitri rubbed his forehead. He should have skipped breakfast today. But no, that wouldn’t do for a leader of the royals, no matter how grim-dark things got. Especially not now.

Beauty Sleep Festival should occur multiple times a year. He needed it.

“Fiddlesticks!” Claude whispered, dropping back into a crouch. “We’re in trouble.”

Dimitri peered around the edge of the porridge pot. His eyes widened.

Scraps of food had started to peel off the other students, gathering into one giant mass in the center of the Castleteria. The splatters of gravy and porridge on his clothes floated off to join them. It was sort of like Edelgard’s magic outburst earlier, but on a much grander, much more intentional scale.

From the entrance, Baba Yaga’s ruthless grey eyes swept the room. “I will accept no excuses,” she said in her throaty witch-y voice, “no explanations.” She raised a bony finger. “Every last one of you in here—to detention!”

∞

“Dimitri, what is this I hear about detention?”

Dimitri looked up from the page of his Crownculus hextbook, at which he had been dimly gazing ever since he picked up his mother’s phone call. “It’s… I…”

How could he explain? He’d managed to fail what should have been the relatively simple task of ending a disagreement before it raged into a full-scale conflict. One that involved almost the entire Legacy Year class, no less! Even his own friends hadn’t heeded a word he’d said today.

“Nothing dangerous happened?” she pressed, her high-pitched tone pitching even higher than usual.

Dimitri forced a laugh that emptied into the stuffy quiet of his dorm room. “Of course not, Mother. The other students merely… there was something of a… food fight in the Castleteria this morning. I’m afraid it was my fault for not stopping them before things escalated.” He tried to mask the frustration that boiled up at the admission.

“A-a food fight?”

“They were throwing food at each other,” he explained.

“Oh.” Snow White sounded flabbergasted, as she should. Nothing like that had ever happened in her day.

Silence drifted between them. Dimitri dismissed a notification that appeared on his phone screen.

“Sweetie, you’re coming home the end of the week, am I correct?”

He raised his eyebrows at the sudden change of subject, swiped away another notification. “For Yester Day? Yes, of course.” Not that she needed him to confirm. She probably knew the school calendar better than he did.

“We’ll talk more when you’re here,” she promised. “Until then, don’t you beat yourself up for other people’s actions. Even unscripted accidents happen sometimes.” She paused.

“Understood,” he said.

His mother’s voice softened. “I’ve got to go now. See you this weekend, hmm? I love you, Dimitri.” She hung up.

“Love you too,” he muttered at the CALL ENDED screen.

Another message notification appeared. This time he tapped it—feeling more than a little annoyed at Sylvain for pretty much every reason he’d ever been annoyed at Sylvain, all together at once today.

S.HOPPER CROAKINGTON: mercedes is heeeere

S.HOPPER CROAKINGTON: she brought donuts

S.HOPPER CROAKINGTON: where is everyone??

Dimitri did not care about donuts. He couldn’t taste them anyway. But only Ingrid could really get Sylvain to shut up, and Ingrid would probably be busy eating donuts.

Dimitri turned his phone on silent.

As soon as he picked up his pen, a knock came on the door. He didn’t answer right away—his roommate sometimes liked to knock on doors before opening them—but when the knocking persisted, he set the pen down and said, “Come in.”

A mop of tousled grey hair atop a freckled face poked into the room. “Sorry for bothering you, Your Highness,” Ashe whispered—fairy godmothers knew why he was whispering. “Sylvain asked me to call you over in case you hadn’t checked his messages. There are donuts in the royal common room, if you want some?”

“I don’t like donuts,” said Dimitri.

Ashe pulled back. “Oh, okay then. Sorry for bothering you.” He didn’t leave right away, glancing around the hallway before he leaned in to whisper, “You can still join us if you like.”

Dimitri sighed. He felt a little bad for being harsh to Ashe, who was always such a nice kid, so he forced a smile and said, “I’m fine, thank you. I… I have homework to finish.”

It was a totally lame excuse, and he saw that reflected on Ashe’s face, but that didn’t matter. His friends would likely not let him off the hook about it, but it was best not to bother them. They didn’t need him to turn their fun into another pity party.

“See you around, then,” Ashe said, and closed the door very quietly.

What better way to drown one’s sorrows than in the never-ending depths of homework?

Dimitri sighed again, loudly this time, and picked up his pen.

Chapter Text

Edelgard was used to hostile stares. She was used to being given a wide berth on the way to class, to sitting alone when the few people who could tolerate her weren’t around. She was even used to other villains’ children giving her the evil eye when they thought she wasn’t looking.

What she wasn’t used to was having near-strangers approach her in the halls or in the library or on the road to Book End. The morning after detention, Felix Charming all but pinned her to the lockers demanding to know what she planned to do now. “Have you already decided what to do with the consequences?”

Despite the jump of her heartbeat at his sudden appearance, she calmly stepped aside to open her locker, noting the stares they were drawing from other students. “Funny that you guessed I plan to ‘do’ something with them.”

She used to think Felix was more about brawn than brain, but his silence confirmed he knew exactly what she was talking about.

Edelgard shifted her hextbooks onto one arm and closed her locker door, turning to face him again. “You’re right, though. I won’t sit around to watch; there are people all around us who are on my side, and I won’t let their hope go to waste.” With a small smile, she started toward her General Villainy classroom. “Maybe you can be the one to get that through Dimitri’s head.”

“As if.” Seeming satisfied, albeit not exactly pleased with her answer, Felix turned to go the opposite direction.

At lunch that day, Lysithea Breadhouse plunked her tray down on the empty space next to Edelgard’s. Nonplussed by the glances she received from Edelgard’s tablemates, she sat, looked Edelgard in the eye, and extended a hand, as if for a handshake.

“What’s this?” Edelgard asked, bemused. She’d only met the daughter of the Candy Witch last year, but they shared several classes and had spoken more than once, even if only briefly.

Lysithea hardly blinked. “Shake my hand.”

Edelgard shook it.

“You realize we’re allies now, right?” Lysithea’s round eyes were an innocuous shade of pink, but her gaze was intense—unyielding. Her hair was done in girlish twin braids today, woven through with yellow ribbons and colorful candy-shaped beads; but just like Edelgard’s, it was whiter than confectioners’ sugar.

Edelgard gave a sharp nod to match the other girl’s businesslike air. “I do.” They might look a little ridiculous to the others, especially since Lysithea was a year or two younger than everyone else in their class, but Edelgard knew better than to continue that line of thought.

Lysithea smiled grimly and that was that.

Such interactions popped up all through the week. Edelgard wondered how long this would last—probably by week’s end, if she was being realistic. After all, Yester Day was all about cementing destiny into the lives of the newly-signed… even if less than half the class had actually signed.

LOCATION CONFIRMED: DARK FOREST.

Edelgard swiped the notification away and glanced up from her MirrorPhone to survey her surroundings. Tall, scraggly trees twisted their way up toward a sprawling canopy of withering leaves. She thought she saw what looked like a glowing red eye in the bushes, but it was gone before she could do a second take. Witchy chills shivered down her spine. She quickly returned to her MirrorPhone, intending to check the map.

A message preview appeared at the top of her screen, followed by a notification for an attachment. Edelgard opened it to a photo of Petra next to a smiling flaxen-haired woman, sent in the group chat Dorothea had made for their group of “Rebels.” Petra had hexted: I met Clara!

Dorothea blasted into the chat almost at once: CLARA AS IN THE NUTCRACKER CLARA?? PRIMA BALLERINA CLARA??

PETRA: yes

LINHARDT: how cool. here’s a pic of rip van winkle’s cat

[photo attachment]

CASPAR: CATTTT

CASPAR: CAN YOU STEAL IT AND BRING IT BACK FOR ME

FERDINAND: What a perfect embodiment of the feline persuasion!

LINHARDT: what does that even mean

DOROTHEA: aww kitty!!

DOROTHEA: I’m looking for the Six Swan brothers’ sister but she is not answering any of my messages, help

CASPAR: JUST YELL AND SOMEONE WILL ANSWER YOU

Edelgard shook her head, switching back to the maps app. Her destination was only a few minutes’ walk away, and she had a feeling she’d be able to see it from a distance.

She was right: the candy house looked exactly as she’d imagined—gingerbread roof, graham-cracker walls, and gumdrops lining the path to the front door. The creamy white frosting that seeped out between the cracks bore not a spot of discoloration. The warm fragrance of spun sugar hung thick in the air, like an entangling web of spider-silk, tinged with traces of plum and citrus. It all smacked of sweet—and powerful—magic.

The door, which was apparently a giant bar of chocolate, swung open as she approached, held by a plump woman in her forties with rosy cheeks and white streaks in her russet-brown bun. She had an absent look in her eyes, as though trying to remember something but not quite sure what. It cleared a little when she smiled at Edelgard.

“There you are!” she said, as if she’d found what she’d been looking for. Her voice belied her homey appearance—it was dry and husky, as a witch’s should be, but still kinder than one would expect from the villain who tried to eat Hansel and Gretel. “Well, come on in, dear!”

Edelgard did so, with a small wave, and found that the floor inside the cottage was made of ordinary wood. Everything inside looked quite ordinary, in fact, from the flower vases on the living room table to the strawberry-patterned cushions on the sofa, to the family photos hanging on the walls. The floral arrangements were all black and suitably witchy, however.

“Do take a seat,” the Candy Witch said, gesturing to the couch. “What were you here for, again?” She put a finger to her cheek, giving Edelgard a thoughtful once-over. “You’re frightfully skinny… Oh! Yes, the cookies!” She darted into the next room, from which a most heavenly smell was wafting.

Edelgard had met the Candy Witch once, at one of her mother’s dinner parties years ago. All she remembered of the woman was that the kiwi-flavored lozenges she offered a footman turned him into a kiwi bird.

Sitting down on the couch, Edelgard picked up a framed picture on the coffee table. In it, the Candy Witch stood with a tall portly man and a little girl of five or six. The girl’s round face and elfin features resembled those of her older self—of Lysithea—but unlike the Lysithea Edelgard knew, she had beautiful thick strawberry-blonde hair. She was hugging a giant stuffed gingerbread-man, grinning wide and toothy.

Almost unconsciously, Edelgard touched the ends of her own hair.

The Candy Witch bustled back into the living room, carrying a large metal tray and with it the delicious scent of fresh-baked cookies. “Thea tells me you like fairyberries?” She set the tray on the table. “Try one for me? It’s a new recipe.”

“Thank you,” said Edelgard, reaching for one. She paused. “How did Lysithea know I like fairyberries?”

“Call it witch’s intuition, dear. Now, what is it you want to ask me? Is it about my oven?” She smiled, a rather toothy smile, and Edelgard resisted the urge to scoot away.

“Well… to be more specific, how did you escape the oven?” Edelgard took a small bite of the cookie. The flavors of cinnamon and juicy fairyberry exploded on her tongue.

The Candy Witch beamed. “I have a secret escape hatch! It’s an old oven, passed down in our family for generations. Would you like to see it?” she asked with a hopeful gleam in her eyes.

“Oh, no thank you.” Edelgard pretended to be occupied with her cookie. “This tastes wonderful.” And it was—a perfect balance between soft and chewy, with a texture that just about melted in her mouth, and it wasn’t too sweet, either.

“I’m so glad. You’d better take some with you when you go! I always tell my Thea to share my sweets with her friends.”

Edelgard nodded, knowing Lysithea was notoriously stingy with her sweets. “Mind if I ask another question?”

“Of course, dear.” The witch waved her hand, and the cookies rose in a swirl of pink magic, settling into a fairyberry-red box that had drifted over from a nearby shelf.

“Isn’t not dying technically going off-script from the original story?”

The Candy Witch froze. The cookie box fell to the table with a dull thud. Shaking her head, she summoned the box back into her hands and started fussing over the ribbons on the lid. “Well… you know how it is… For some stories, it depends.” She met Edelgard’s gaze for a brief moment. “Most of us who are fated for death have children before our story begins… all in the service of destiny, you see. But sometimes there can be exceptions.”

“The oven hatch is an exception,” Edelgard guessed.

“Maybe, maybe not. It’s always been this way in our family. For my sweet Thea’s sake, I’m glad.” She frowned. “Ah, I remember now. You’re Evie’s girl, aren’t you? The Rebel?”

Edelgard wondered if she should be offended by this new title, then decided she would not be. “I am.”

“Well, you seem a nice enough girl. I hope everything works out for you.” The witch gave the cookie box a final pat and slid it into Edelgard’s hands. “Remember, a healthy sweet tooth an an oven hatch go a long way.”

Edelgard slipped the box into her bag and stood. “Thanks for your time, Ms. Breadhouse. And for the cookies.”

“Certainly, dear. Come again!”

Edelgard waved goodbye as she hurried out—there wasn’t a lot of time to travel between appointments. Once she was out of the front yard and well on the path, she pulled out her MirrorPhone to jot down some notes, only to be arrested by the sight of the icon on the upper right corner of her screen.

NO SIGNAL.

“What the hex?” She swiped open the Yester Day app. The swirling blue button that activated the wishing well portal had faded to grey, prompting her to find a place with a mirror to reconnect to the network. She looked up, expecting to see a clear path that would lead to the wishing well. No such path was in sight.

That was weird. She pocketed her MirrorPhone and glanced back the way she’d come. The Candy Witch’s cottage glowed softly in the distance. Above her, the tangled limbs of the Dark Forest’s trees let in only the smallest streams of light.

Edelgard scowled. There had been a path when she’d come this way. Something—or someone—in these blasted woods was playing with her. She did not have time for that.

She took a few steps forward, stopped, and pulled out her MirrorPhone again. Then she looked up to see if her surroundings had changed at all.

They had not.

She tried again, pretended to check her phone longer this time. When she looked up, still nothing had changed. Perhaps the wood sprites had caught on to her ploy. Or perhaps this was just how the Dark Forest always looked.

The third time she tried this, a voice said from somewhere to her left, “What are you doing?”

Edelgard whirled around, stifling a shriek. A boy around her age lounged against one of the trees nearby, watching her with one eyebrow raised. Lavender hair, the same color as his eyes, brushed the collar of his wicked-looking jacket. He seemed vaguely familiar, but Edelgard didn’t know from where.

“I’m…” She stopped, realizing there was no reasonable way to explain what she’d been trying to accomplish. “Just out walking.”

“You’re lost,” he noted.

“Pardon? I am not lost.”

“You are. Do you need directions?” There was no hint of kindness in his tone. Nor was there anything trustworthy about a face that pretty.

“No thank you,” she said civilly.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, letting them just stand there staring at each other. Then: “If you weren’t lost, you’d be on your way by now.”

“I’m not lost,” she insisted. To throw him off, she asked, “Do I know you?”

To her surprise, she succeeded. His eyes widened for one long second, then narrowed in suspicion. “What, do you… not know me?”

Edelgard shrugged. “I am pretty sure I’ve seen you before. Do you go to Ever After High?”

His eyes widened again. “Do I—? Grandmama. Do I go to Ever After High? Why, how else would I know you, Edelgard Queen?”

“Don’t be dramatic,” she said wearily. “Everybody knows who I am. Now if you’ll excuse me.” She started back the way she’d been going before he’d interrupted.

“Hapi was right; I spend too much time in the mirror-lab,” she heard him mutter as she walked away. Then he chuckled to himself and called out, “Be careful, now—there are wolves in this part of the forest.”

“Noted.” She wasn’t too concerned. Being the daughter of the Greatest Evil There Ever Was had a few perks.

She walked a little farther before she saw, with relief, a clear path rising out of the dark forest floor. A familiar red-cloaked figure was on it, a few paces ahead of her.

“Bernadetta,” she called.

Her roommate jumped and spun around, tugging the hood of her cloak lower over her ears. Was that a grimace flashing across her face? “E-Edelgard?”

“Obviously. What are you doing out here?”

“I was just—I’m going to visit my parents?” Her eyes darted to the side, off the forest path.

Edelgard frowned; the girl looked more agitated than usual. Of course, Edelgard hadn’t seen much of her since Legacy Day, so that was hard to tell. “Are you okay?”

“I’m perfectly fine!” she blurted. Then her shoulders sagged. “Sorry… that didn’t sound very ‘fine,’ did it.”

“Where do your parents live? I could walk with you.”

For some reason, that only seemed to increase Bernadetta’s distress. “No, really, I can go by myself. I know these woods.”

“Yes… but I’m afraid I don’t. Could you at least point me to the nearest wishing well?”

“Y-yeah, it’s just down this path.” Bernadetta gestured. “Just keep in mind though, don’t go off the path. No matter what.”

“Right. Actually, doesn’t Mr. Badwolf live in these woods?” Edelgard checked her MirrorPhone again, relieved to find it had one ring of signal now, and opened her Yester Day app. “I’m supposed to interview him next.”

Bernadetta blinked. “Mr. Badwolf? Um… why, yes, I believe he does. I think. If I’m remembering correctly. Uh, it should be on the map?”

“But there doesn’t seem to be any direct path to where the Badwolfs live… Do you think there’s cell signal in that part of the woods? I might have to just… Bernadetta?”

Her roommate was staring into the trees. Witchy chills shuddered through Edelgard’s bones again as she felt the prickle of what was most certainly someone’s eyes on her. Multiple someones.

She followed Bernadetta’s gaze and saw them in the shadows—flashes of yellow eyes, the gleam of white fangs, dark shapes that moved seamlessly between the withered trees.

Beside her, Bernadetta sighed. Her face had slackened into an expression of complete resignation, rather than the alien fear that now crept through Edelgard’s muscles.

“I think you should come with me after all,” Bernadetta mumbled. “The wolves are here.”

Chapter Text

King Thrushbeard had shaved his beard once when he was younger, and he seemed to have regretted it ever since. Now it grew thick and bushy, vanishing into the mane of brown hair that fell around his shoulders, trailing well past table-level from what Dimitri could see. More than one thrush could make a nest in that phenomenon.

“Prince Dimitri!” he had exclaimed when Dimitri was ushered into the palace’s banquet hall. The room was empty but for the king himself, who sat at the end of one long bench with a pile of what appeared to be tax reports spread out before him. He pushed aside the papers, an ink-stained quill, and a mug of coffee and leaned across the table to shake Dimitri’s hand with a grip of iron. “Couldn’t have come at a better time!”

“It’s an honor to be here today, Your Majesty,” said Dimitri.

The king gave a great belly-laugh. “And you’re as polite as ever! Sit down, sit down. It’s been a while, eh? Can’t believe it’s your Legacy Year already.”

Over the course of their conversation, Dimitri gathered that the king was not well-caught-up on current events. That did make sense for a king who preferred farming over ruling, so Dimitri decided not to enlighten him. Besides, the king’s own daughter was only in nursery-rhyme school, so perhaps it was best not to alarm him with what would certainly be smoothed over within the next few months (right?).

Instead, Dimitri phrased his questions as if asking for general royal advice. “In your eyes, what’s the best way to handle civil unrest?”

“Civil unrest?” The king raised his bushy eyebrows.

Dimitri nodded.

“Well… first I’d ask what the cause of the unrest is.” The king scratched his bearded chin, leaning back against his chair. “And I don’t mean just listening to what the people around me say. That’s no good. Most of the time they’re just trying to tell you what you want to hear—and on those rare occasions when they’re not, it’s probably to stop you from doing something you should do. Everyone around me thought I was crazy for wanting to marry Evie! There were times when I doubted myself too—that tongue of hers was the most fearsome thing in Ever After in those days.” He shuddered.

Confused, Dimitri glanced up from his notes. “Even if that was your destiny?”

King Thrushbeard shrugged. “Even if so, people will doubt. Just don’t take everything they say at face value is what I mean. But anyway, about civil unrest—in my opinion, patience is the key. You have to go down among the commoners, become one of them. Live a day in their shoes, or two or twenty, and you’ll understand their woes quite well.” He took a sip of his drink. “Also never interrupt an angry woman while she’s talking. That helps too.”

“I see…” Dimitri withheld a sigh. He couldn’t very well try to live a day in a Rebel’s shoes, could he? Even if he did, what difference would it make? He sympathized with their cause, but sympathy didn’t make the world go round. Destiny did. “Understanding” wasn’t enough. Especially since they seemed even less interested in understanding the Royal perspective.

King Thrushbeard gave a hearty nod. “Being a leader ain’t easy, kid. Hang in there.”

Dimitri smiled. “I will try. Oh, and there is one other question I’d like to ask you. It’s about time management. How did you manage to keep track of your duties as king while living in the farmlands?”

The king’s eyebrows shot up again. “Anybody ever tell you how frighteningly like Snow you are?”

“Not in those terms, no.”

“Huh. Well, the family resemblance sure is there. To answer your question—it was a pretty stressful time in my life.” The king chuckled. “I had to run every day to the castle and back without arousing my wife’s suspicions. I often took the backroads—went through town in disguise and changed clothes once I was in the palace. There was an old farmer who would take me on his wagon every morning; he never knew who I really was, but I learned a lot from just making conversation with him every day.” The king stroked his beard. “Always important to get to know your people, Prince Dimitri.”

Snow White often said something to that effect. “Thank you, Your Majesty. Your advice is much appreciated.”

The king let loose another great belly-laugh, then reached over to slap him on the shoulder. “You’re a good prince, Dimitri White. I wish you the best of luck with the future of your civil affairs.”

After saying goodbye, Dimitri mulled over the king’s advice on the way to the castle wishing well. He couldn’t help feeling a bit disappointed by the interview, but what else did he expect? No one in the fairytale world had faced this sort of upheaval before. Everything before this had been as happily-ever-after could be.

As he approached the well, he opened the Yester Day app on his MirrorPhone and selected the next character on his list. While he waited for the swirling blue icon on his screen to load, he grew gradually more aware of his quickening heartbeat. He stared straight ahead and forced his breathing to remain steady.

It was just an ordinary wishing well.

Pushing down the familiar, sickly unease, he tapped the blue icon, held his breath, and jumped in.

There was a downward rush—a splash of water—then a soft dry warmth that enveloped his body. He eased his eyes open, relieved to find himself safe in an orb of light. The orb lifted him out of the well and popped like a bubble just before his feet touched the ground. Dead leaves crackled under his boots.

He checked his MirrorPhone again. LOCATION CONFIRMED: VALOROUS MOUNTAIN.

A cold wind bit into his cheek. He shifted the scarf around his neck and glanced up the path ahead. It was carved right into the face of the mountain, which meant the left side dropped away into a ravine filled with rushing rapids. But a fall from this height wouldn’t actually kill you; it would just send you spinning over the edge of a waterfall.

Shielding his eyes from the glaring morning sunlight with his free hand, Dimitri peered across the ravine. On really foggy days, the cave dragons from the other side came out to hunt. He had never seen one, though he had always wanted to. Once when he and Felix were barely more than toddlers, they had given the older boys the slip and ventured up the mountain to look for one themselves. Dimitri didn’t remember that incident, but Felix’s father did—very well too, judging by the number of times he had recounted the story since then.

Farther up the craggy mountain stood Dimitri’s destination, an old stone fortress built on a rocky overhang. The five-minute trek from the well did little to diminish the bitter chill already setting into his bones. He passed through a gateway of fog and stopped before the stalwart outer walls, beyond which loomed the magnificent Charming Castle. The way up was meant to be a treacherous climb, a fitting place to train young heroes and an even more fitting discouragement for overeager young suitors of future Charming princesses.

But on the other side of the mountain, the view opened up to beautiful meadows, valleys, and the lands of Charming Kingdom. Dimitri had many memories of summer days spent playing knights in those meadows and of winter nights huddled around village bonfires in the vales below. It had been too long since he’d last visited.

In keeping with the architectural theme, the castle’s front door bore an engraved crest of two swords crossed over a shield. The door swung open moments after he knocked.

“Ah, Dimitri!” Dr. King Charming greeted him with his usual gracious smile—a more reserved version of the dazzling “Charming smile” that could allegedly knock out an army. His composed, ever-refined demeanor looked a bit at odds with the checkered baby-blue apron tied around his waist, with the words WORLD’S BEST DAD clumsily stitched across the front. If Dimitri’s memory served him right, that had been a gift from Glenn, who got so mad at his father one year that he spent three whole months learning to embroider. The point of his efforts may have been missed.

“Oh?” The king noted Dimitri’s surprise and chuckled. “Ah, forgive my unkempt appearance. I was making breakfast for my wife before the students were to arrive. But it seems I lost track of time.” He stepped back, opening the door wide. “Come in, come in! Have some tea and scones.”

Dimitri did as instructed, and soon found himself seated in the family living room with a tray of fresh-baked blueberry scones and a cup of lemon tea. Felix’s father sat down in a bearskin armchair on top of a manticore rug. Behind him hung rows and rows of framed pictures, of every size and shape, showcasing countless paintings and photographs of the illustrious Charming clan.

“Thank you for having me, Rodrigue,” said Dimitri, pulling himself out of a web of nostalgia as warm and inviting as the citrusy scent of his tea. “I know you’re very busy, so I’ll not take too much of your time.”

“Nonsense! The years have changed much, but you are still like family to us, Dimitri. Take as much time as you need.”

Dimitri shifted in his chair. He had never wanted someone like Rodrigue Charming, his favorite teacher and father’s best friend, to view him as incompetent in matters regarding kingdom management. But if there was one person in Fódlan who knew how to balance ruling his lands on such a tight schedule, and while managing a crowd of unruly teenagers, well, it could only be Dr. King Charming. “Actually I came to ask your advice on dealing with civil unrest.”

Rodrigue’s expression didn’t budge, but there was no doubt he knew exactly what Dimitri was talking about. “Now why would you ask me, Your Highness?”

Dimitri blinked. “Because… you’re a king?”

“Well, yes,” said Rodrigue in a tone of mild agreement, “but surely you understand what sort of kingdom this is.” He gestured out the window, where snow had already begun to fall thick and heavy onto the craggy mountainside. “We are surrounded by threats on every side. Dragons in the north, the Dark Forest to the west, trolls all along the south and east. A Charming king needs to be a strong warrior before anything else for the people to follow him. That’s all that is necessary to earn their faith. You on the other hand, I’m afraid, you have a different sort of beast to tame.”

Well, that wasn’t very encouraging. His use of the word “beast” brought to mind Felix, who had used that word to describe Dimitri on more than one occasion after… never mind. Rodrigue wouldn’t have known, but it was still a sharp reminder of someone whose faith had been lost long before Legacy Day.

Dimitri had to fix things somehow. “I lost everyone’s faith already,” he said, dropping his gaze to the manticore rug at the king’s slipper-clad feet. “But I don’t know how to get it back.”

“Dimitri, you underestimate your own influence.” The king laced his hands together. “You are far from alone, and your friends are far from faithless. I may not know Rapunzel and the Frog King’s children as well as you, but it has always been evident to me that they are unswervingly loyal to you. As for my own boy—” he broke off with a tired chuckle. “I suppose it can be hard to tell what is going on in that head of his, but I have faith in him. In both of you. That you will both strive to do the right thing in The End.”

“But I don’t even know anymore; what is the right thing?” Frustration leaked into Dimitri’s voice.

Rodrigue shrugged. “There’s more than one right way to lead a kingdom, and as many ways to solve a problem. You have time to figure things out, Dimitri. Allow yourself a few mistakes along the way.” He cracked a small smile. “No one is expecting a perfect king. Just ask my wife.”

Now that simply wasn’t true. Snow White’s words rang through Dimitri’s mind, clear as the last time she’d spoken them: “You will be perfect. You always have been.”

The thought of her having to take back those words, of her looking at him with the same disappointment in her gaze as that of Headmistress Rhea, whom he was sure had once believed in him too—that thought filled him with something dreadful, something almost tangible. Like a rotting cloud of darkness reaching outward from his core, threatening to penetrate his skin. Like the kind of beast you could only tame by slicing off its head. Only this time he couldn’t find a sword, and he had a creeping suspicion that he and the beast shared the same head.

The distant thud of footsteps drew their attention to the hallway, from which a woman’s voice drifted into the room: “What time will you be back?”

“After lunch,” came Felix’s, or rather the nonabrasive, no-sharp-edges version only ever heard when he addressed his mother and maybe Annette. “We’re eating at Ingrid’s place.”

Queen Charming appeared at the parlor door, distinguished as ever by her unmistakable, impeccable hairdo—full of elaborate curls of hair so blonde it was almost white, some strands streaked with elegant grey, adorned with strings of pearls, and topped with a delicate pinned crown. Her smile was just like Glenn’s, and she moved with a quiet grace that seemed eerily reminiscent of both her sons and her husband.

Her amber eyes, the same color as Felix’s, landed on Dimitri. “Why, Dimitri, how long it’s been! Will you be going with Felix?”

“Hello, Your Majesty,” Dimitri said, standing to bow. He glanced at Felix, who in lieu of participating in the conversation was looking at his MirrorPhone. “I’m… afraid not. If you all are busy, I will take my leave now.”

Rodrigue looked at him in surprise. “Is that all you came for? You only asked one question!”

“You’re more than welcome to stay longer,” the queen said. “Felix and I were just passing by.”

“It’s quite all right. I can’t be late to my next appointment.” Besides, he couldn’t stand to impose. As wonderful as the Charmings were, things had never felt the same after Glenn’s death, his place with them included.

“Very well, then. You can always ask me at school if you need anything else, I suppose.” Rodrigue stood. “Ah, and Felix, what is it that we Charmings always say?” He grinned and gestured at Dimitri.

Felix stared at him blankly. “What are you talking about, old man?”

“‘Charming is as charming does,’” his parents said in unison.

Rodrigue beamed at Dimitri. Felix rolled his eyes.

“What does it mean?” Dimitri asked politely.

“Nothing,” said Felix. “It means nothing at all.”

“It is a rather silly old saying,” Rodrigue agreed, putting an arm around his wife. “Just remember, Dimitri, it’s not about slaying the dragon—it’s about protecting the people you love, first and foremost. Sometimes… there are other ways to do that.” He cast a sad smile toward Felix, who seemed determined not to notice.

But Dimitri felt the full force of it himself. “I will try to keep that in mind, Rodrigue. Thank you, truly.” He bowed to the royal pair and turned to leave.

“Anytime,” the king called after him.

“Have a nice weekend,” the queen added.

Sharp, rhythmic steps followed Dimitri down the hall. Once he was sure he was out of the king and queen’s sight, he stopped, eyes sliding over to Felix, who kept walking.

“I’m not following you, if that’s what you’re thinking.” The sharp edge hadn’t yet completely returned to his old friend’s tone. Without it, he just sounded kind of tired. “I need to go to the well too.”

Dimitri started walking again. The silence hung uncomfortably thick between them, so against his better judgment, he tried to make conversation. “I didn’t catch you at the well when I came.”

“I was here before you.”

“Must be nice seeing your mom again.”

Felix opened his mouth as if about to reply with something scathing, but shook his head and only glared ahead, as if Dimitri’s small talk was personally insulting.

“I already know you hate being around me,” Dimitri mumbled. “No need to tell me again.”

He wasn’t sure why he said that. He’d never done so before.

Felix’s eyebrows drew together in that familiar expression of annoyance, and Dimitri took that as a sign to terminate this miserable attempt at civil conversation. He was used to Felix’s apparent disgust at his existence, but for some reason a lack of verbal reassertion of the fact unsettled him far more than the usual barbed comments. That almost hurt—it was as if he wasn’t even worth the extra effort anymore.

When they emerged outside the castle, the cold air was enough to redirect Dimitri’s thoughts, even for a brief moment. He stuffed his hands deep into his pockets and blew out a few shivery puffs of air before hurrying on after Felix, who hadn’t so much as broken pace ahead.

They were halfway down the path to the well when a strange rustle pulled Dimitri’s attention to the right, where the mountain sloped down and out. He continued walking, but when the second rustle came, Felix stopped and turned around, one hand already at the sword at his hip.

Dimitri opened his mouth. The next moment, something crashed into him from above.

He didn’t feel anything at first, only the woosh of empty air as his feet lost purchase. And then he was falling.

The crushing weight on his chest lifted long enough for him to register a snow-covered creature leaping back onto the ledge where Felix still stood—and then it was replaced by the rush of gravity and panic. He reached for something, anything. His hands found the rocky edge of a lower ledge. His face found the jagged ends of a tree branch. They scraped across his cheek when he jerked his head away, trying to scramble up, and narrowly missed his eye.

He threw himself onto the ledge and spat out a mouthful of snow, rocks, and something like fur.

“—mitri!”

Dazed, he looked up—just in time to receive a snarling, clawing mass of living rage in the face. Fortunately his back was to the wall this time, so the impact only smashed him against a giant slab of rock. Unfortunately the face is a very vulnerable part of the human body.

As claws raked across his forehead, he grabbed hold of the creature’s belly and with every ounce of his strength flung it to the ground. He wasn’t sure if he’d imagined the cracking sound on impact, but it lay stunned on its back until Felix jumped down next to him.

“What is it?” Dimitri panted. Sweat poured down his face. He reached up to wipe it off, but his hand came away dark with blood. Oh, dear. He couldn’t present himself to his next interview like this…

The creature flipped onto its feet, darting just out of reach of Felix’s sword. It resembled a feral honey badger, but with a longer body, shorter limbs, and horizontal white stripes across its dark grey back. A long, rat-like tail lashed back and forth behind its powerful hind legs. There was something not quite right about it, in the strangely clean-cut edges of its silhouette, or the ever-so-slight lavender tinge to its body—a familiar not-quite-rightness Dimitri couldn’t place.

“Get to the well,” Felix snapped, raising his sword to intercept a flying attack from the creature. It careened off the flat of his blade but sprang back up in an instant, growling. “You’re bleeding all over the place.”

“But—”

“It’s just a badger… thing. I don’t need your help.”

Anyone could tell this was no ordinary badger-thing, but blood continued to leak down Dimitri’s face, so he complied. With the well only a few strides away, he pulled out his MirrorPhone, swiped open his next destination, and jumped into those dank, dark depths without any time to hesitate.

As the magical transport bubble around him descended, Dimitri peered at his hands, which were covered in tiny scratches and tiny hairs, stuck to his skin with blood. When he was twelve he had accidentally snapped his father’s favorite lance in half. During a Hero Training midterm last year he’d incapacitated a river troll that had leaped on top of him by throwing it off, similarly to how he had thrown off that badger creature just now. And of course, on that fateful day when the Evil Queen emerged from the Well of Wonder, his hands had looked much the same as they did now, only smaller, and the blood did not belong to him…

He closed his eyes and forced several deep, long breaths to calm his racing heart. Light warmed the darkness behind his eyelids, and the bubble lifted him onto dry land.

The bubble popped, and he pitched forward.

“Dimitri?”

A hand gripped his arm, steadying him. He looked up into the stunned face of Sylvain Croakington.

“Greetings,” he said.

“What happened to you?” Ingrid’s voice came from behind. He turned, but the first person whose gaze he met was... Marianne. Of course.

A drop of blood plopped onto the grass at his feet. He sighed. So much for looking presentable.

Chapter Text

Meanwhile, deep in the heart of the northern Dark Forest, Edelgard—

“Hey, Narrator! You there?”

As I was saying, Edelgard and Bernadetta—

“Ah-choo! Ugh, those mermaids.”

How in the world are you talking to me right now?

“Oh, so you can hear me! Are you busy?”

Yes, I am! I am over here with Edelgard and Bernadetta in the Dark Forest, and I am trying to narrate the next part of their journey, during which—

“Ah-choo!”

Bless you.

“Thank you. Today I found out I’m apparently allergic to mermaids.”

Is… that so.

“Mm-hmm. Ran all the way to Neverland just to discover I can’t walk three feet without sneezing my brains out. It turns out Neverlandian mermaids shed scales all over the place.”

Is that so. Wait, why were you in Neverland?

“I know, right? I wanted to go home, but obviously that isn’t possible, so I decided to check out Neverland. I had thought they’d be somewhat similar.”

Really.

“What? They share a last name! But I guess—ah-choo!—Wonderlandian logic doesn’t apply in this case. So now I’m sitting in the cold dark Castleteria, enjoying the company of Earl Grey and drinking buzzlebee tea. It’s good for soothing allergies.”

I see. Well, you enjoy; I’ve got to return to Edelgard before things get moving on her page.

“So soon? Why, is something happening over there?”

You know I can’t tell you.

“Aw but Narrator, we are such good friends, you and I—”

Why must you make my job so difficult! I’m still able to lodge that complaint, you know!

“You wouldn’t! Though maybe you should. I mean, what would they do anyway? Assign you a different story? Wait but that means I won’t be able to talk to you guys again, so actually don’t do that.”

Is there something you want from me?

“Nothing in particular. Ah-choo! Piglets in teacups, it’s dusty in here.”

… in the Castleteria?

“Huh? Uh—yeah. You’ve never been, so you probably don’t know—the harpies don’t clean during breaks. Oops.”

What was that?

“I spilled my tea.”

I’ve seen you drink tea hanging upside-down from a tree. And that sounded like a book… You’re not in the Castleteria, are you, Claude?

“Sorry, what was that? I was busy cleaning up the tea I just spilled.”

Just what are you up to now??

“I told you: I’m drinking buzzlebee tea in the Castleteria. Earl Grey can be my witness. Right, buddy?”

… Never mind. I don’t have time for this. Narrator out.

Chapter Text

“Just put your hood up, keep your head down, and follow me,” Bernadetta said, her voice wavering as she continued down the path. She had tugged the edges of her crimson hood down low around her face, knuckles white as bone.

Edelgard resisted the urge to look into the trees. Years of life in her mother’s dark world had taught her not to give the creatures in the shadows the satisfaction of her fear. They would be afraid of her—if they knew who she was and what she could do. She wrapped herself in the cold embrace of that reminder.

They hadn’t gone ten steps before the first Wolf materialized from the woods, keeping pace with them on the side of the road. Bernadetta flinched but did not stop, even when the Wolf stood up on its hind legs and turned into a girl.

“Look who’s back in the wrong neck of the woods,” she crooned, her lips curling into a sharp-toothed sneer. “Are you lost again, Little Red?”

On the other side of the path, a lanky boy with half a dozen scars on his face stepped into the light, grinning. “Who’s your pretty friend, Bernie?”

Ahead of Edelgard—who had long grown used to such jeers—Bernadetta seemed to shrink in on herself, her footsteps growing fast and frantic.

“Now where are you hurrying off to? Won’t you stop for a chat? It’s been so long. How’s life at Ever After High?” The girl’s strides lengthened to match Bernadetta’s. “Are the lessons we taught you before helping you survive out there?”

“Leave me alone,” Bernadetta whispered.

The Wolf girl leaned down as she walked, green eyes sparkling. “What’s that? You want to get away? That’s wise. I wonder if you can outrun me now, Little Red.”

Edelgard stopped and turned toward her, acutely aware of the magic simmering under her skin. She was pretty sure turning bullies into toads wasn’t considered evil.

But before she could do anything, the boy on the other side yelped, and a flicker of fear crossed the girl’s face before dissolving into a pout.

“We weren’t gonna do any harm!” the boy cried, voice cracking. “It was just some—just messing around!”

“You sound even less convinced than I am,” a familiar voice said, nowhere as amiable as the first time Edelgard had heard it. On the other side of the path, the lavender-haired boy from earlier stood with a hand around the Wolf’s collar. His eyes traveled past her to the girl. “Anyway, you all should run along now.”

She growled. “Why can’t you leave well enough alone, Yuri?”

“Well,” he said, releasing the boy with a shove that nearly sent him face-planting into a tree, “for starters, I am bigger, badder, and a hundred times better-looking than any of you. Which leads me to my second point, which is that I can tear you to pieces for disrespecting the forest law. Which leads me to my third point, and that is I’d hate to bother the fairies with another scrappy dogfight, especially not after last time. Wouldn’t you agree, Talis?”

The Wolf boy growled in response, rubbing his neck.

“Keep clinging to that ego of yours and maybe it’ll soften the fall when it kills you,” the girl said, and morphed back into her Wolf form.

Something twitched in the lavender-haired boy’s face, but he only smiled, showing sharp teeth. “If I didn’t know better I’d think you were worried for me, Kallie!”

Snarling, the Wolfs slunk into the Dark Forest once more. Shaking his head, the boy turned to Edelgard and Bernadetta. “Fancy seeing you both here.”

Bernadetta tugged her hood down even lower. “Thanks ,Yuri,” she mumbled at the ground. “Sorry for troubling you again. Let’s go, Edelgard.”

“Wait.” She leveled her gaze on the stranger, who met it with a raised eyebrow. “I do know you. You signed the Storybook last year. Aren’t you the son of Mr. Badwolf?” Though now that she thought about it, there was nothing about him that resembled her General Villainy teacher.

“Foster son,” he corrected. “He’s more of a mentor figure than anything else. Smart guy, knowing better than to welcome another Wolf into his family.”

Bernadetta squeaked.

“Still…” Edelgard studied him. “You’re a villain kid too.”

“And happy to be one,” he assured her with no hint of said happiness. “Look, I only intervened because it’s in my best interests to see Bernadetta graduate alive and in one piece. Some of us can’t afford to let our destinies slip away so easily.”

“A-anyway,” Bernadetta cut in, her voice still squeaky, “don’t we have someplace to be getting to? Come on, Edelgard!” She practically ran down the path.

Edelgard followed at a much slower pace, mainly so she could continue interrogating Yuri. “So who are you to her?”

“Me? I don’t know, her destined enemy?”

“Well, who is she to you, then?”

“You’re awfully curious.”

“I’m just trying to look out for my friend.” She glanced at him. “Wouldn’t you do the same?” Pack mentality, and all.

His eyes were pale, cold, and shrewd, much like someone else she knew. There was an undisguised raw hunger in them. If she wasn’t mistaken, he was a classic villain type, the kind that knew exactly what they wanted.

“Certainly,” he said. “Well, if you must know, I would like to consider myself a friend of Bernadetta. She seems to disagree; I always scare her off one way or another.” He ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “Can’t figure out if it’s my looks that get her all tongue-tied or our shared traumatic history, honestly.”

Edelgard raised an eyebrow. Farther up ahead, Bernadetta had realized they were lagging behind and stole a glance over her shoulder, all but raising her hackles when she caught Yuri’s eye.

“Edelgard!” she hissed, as though he weren’t standing right there. “Don’t talk to him; he’s dangerous!”

On the one hand, Edelgard was glad not to be seen as a threat for once. On the other…

“So you say to the daughter of the Evil Queen.” Yuri chuckled, a low and almost pleasant sound that made Bernadetta blanch and hurry off again.

His amusement turned to exasperation. “Do you have any inkling why she acts like I’ll actually try to eat her?”

“Could be because that’s kind of your destiny.” Edelgard eyed him. Most of her villainous classmates at school enjoyed making their destined enemies shrivel up in terror. “Are you a third-year? I feel like I never see you around.”

“Completely your fault, I assure you.” He inspected his fingernails. “I work part-time in the mirror-lab.”

“Right. You don’t, by any chance, also work on the mirrorcast crew?” Come to think of it, she might have seen him hanging out with Ashe’s group before.

“I do indeed. If you were planning to sow disruption and chaos by disabling all the mirrors on Legacy Day then may I say you did an extraordinary job.”

Ignoring his sarcasm, Edelgard crossed her arms. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Yeah, well, we can’t all be—did you just apologize to me?” He stared at her in such pure astonishment she would have laughed, if it weren’t so irritating.

“I did,” she confirmed. “You can extend it to the other members of your crew, if that’s possible.”

His brows scrunched together. “But, like—first of all, why would I do that? Second, why would you?”

Edelgard shrugged, suddenly conscious of his prickling gaze. “Isn’t that the right thing to do?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he said. “And you know how we villains are, always jumping to do the right thing.”

“I don’t like being a villain,” said Edelgard with another shrug.

“I see,” he deadpanned. “So you’re just not like other villain girls, then. Okay. Well, Bernadetta’s practically screaming at me to get out of here, so I’ll skedaddle. Pleasure meeting you in the flesh, Edelgard Queen. I’ll see you around.” He waved and stepped into the forest—but not without a dramatic flap of his coat.

Edelgard almost snapped at him to wait so she could address the blatant incorrectness of his comments, but she took a deep breath and caught up to Bernadetta instead. They had arrived at a lone cottage on the side of the path, which further led to an entire village in a clearing ahead. “Is this where Mr. Badwolf lives, then?” She would have expected a mountain den or something.

Bernadetta bit her lip. Some kind of internal conflict warred on her features for a split second. Then, in lieu of answering her question she said, “This is Hood Hollow. Follow me.”

She led a flummoxed Edelgard to the cottage door. Red petunias bloomed on either side of the front steps, a bright splash of color in the gloomy woods. A lizard darted up the red-brick wall. It was the cute sort of lizard.

“Isn’t this Mr. Badwolf’s home?” Edelgard asked as Bernadetta opened the door with a key from her pocket. The hinges didn’t so much as squeak.

“Shh!” Bernadetta glanced around, flushing, and hurried inside. “Sorry,” she whispered as Edelgard followed. “It’s just—we can’t let them know.”

“Know what? That Mr. Badwolf lives in a cute little cottage?” Edelgard stepped into the family room, and her eyes adjusted to the sudden dimness. The window curtains were drawn all around.

The fairy lamps in every corner cast a warm, cozy glow on the room’s cherry-wood furniture and plaid-patterned upholstery. Edelgard’s stockinged feet sank into the sheep’s wool rug as she ventured in, peering at the framed pictures on the walls. Each one was of… Bernadetta. As a baby gnawing on a bone-shaped chew toy, as a toddler chasing sheep through a pasture, as a little girl with her face hidden in a book, and as a teenager, standing next to a vaguely familiar woman in front of Ever After High.

Edelgard moved closer to the last one. She’d seen that woman in pictures from the commoners’ common room. That was Red Riding Hood, Bernadetta’s mom—and this was their home, not Mr. Badwolf’s.

There wasn’t a single photo of Bernadetta’s dad, either.

“Bernadetta?” Red Riding Hood emerged from the kitchen. Like her daughter, she was lean and petite, but her soft features were sharpened by age and her hair was a chestnut brown. She gasped and rushed forward to embrace her daughter. “I didn’t know you’d be back so soon!”

“Hi, Mom,” said Bernadetta. She drew back with a shaky laugh. “Um, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

Alarm shot across Red’s face. Her eyes widened when they landed on Edelgard, who was likewise staring at Bernadetta. Had this girl deceived her? And why? What was going on?

She blinked and waved at Red. “Hello.”

“Welcome,” said Red, with a warm smile that Edelgard couldn’t tell was real or forced. “Are you here for Yester Day?”

Edelgard looked back at Bernadetta, who gazed back with a worried expression. “Yes,” she said carefully. “I’m supposed to talk with Mr. Badwolf.”

“So… you know?”

“Um. No?”

Again alarm seized Red’s face, but Bernadetta grabbed her arm. “It’s okay, Mom. Edelgard’s my roommate, and she’s—she’s my friend. If there’s anyone we can trust with this, it’s her.” She took a deep breath and turned to Edelgard. “I’m sorry for just springing this up on you like this, but knowing you, you’d find out anyway. The truth is, this is Mr. Badwolf’s home, even though you weren’t supposed to come here. The Big Bad Wolf… is my father.”

Edelgard stared at her.

As the silence between them drew long, Red wrapped her arms around Bernadetta, biting her lip. “Please,” she said in a low voice, “please don’t tell anyone. No one can know this—especially not them.”

“Them?” Edelgard said blankly.

“The Hoods. My family,” said Red. “The same goes for my husband’s clan. Both live in the area, and—and it doesn’t matter how much they hate each other; the one thing they can agree on is that Hoods and Wolfs don’t mix.”

Edelgard nodded, still trying to process the revelation. “I-I see. So, Bernadetta, that’s why you never take off your hood.”

“Yeah. I know it’s weird, but I just can’t risk it.” She slowly, hesitantly pulled it down, revealing a pair of sharp, unmistakable Wolf ears. “But anyway. Now you know.”

“Does that mean Yuri is your… brother?”

Red laughed, and Bernadetta withdrew in horror. “Oh—oh no. Yuri and I are not related in any way shape or form and that is exactly how I would like to keep it thank you very much!”

“Okay, okay,” said Edelgard, unable to help laughing a bit as well. “I almost can’t believe it. But, Bernadetta… wow. Thank you for telling me.” She turned to Red. “I’ve changed my mind. Could I interview you instead? I won’t tell anyone; you have my word.”

Red’s eyebrows arched. “Sure, but is that okay? I’ve had my Yester Days, too. Rhea is very strict about this kind of thing, you know?”

“And stricter than ever now, I’m sure,” Edelgard said dryly. “But what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

Somehow Red’s eyebrows rose even higher, and Bernadetta bit her lip. Edelgard remembered she was speaking in the presence of the good guys.

“I mean I could just tell her that Red Riding Hood is a better choice for, well, staying on the path and all.” She smiled. “Right?”

Red stepped back, grinning. “Right, absolutely. Why don’t you girls take a seat? I’ll get some snacks.”

A few minutes later, the three of them sat in the family room with piping-hot tea and mini pecan pies fresh from the oven. As they ate, Red started telling stories of Bernadetta’s unusual childhood and the struggles of raising a half-Hood, half-Wolf child. “When she started teething, she chewed through every chair leg in the house,” she said, a fond smile settling over her care-worn face. “We had to replace all the furniture! And she loved sheep, but they were always terrified of her. There were several years when she would just cry whenever we had lamb for dinner, not that it stopped her from devouring it—”

“Mom—”

“She takes after both of us, you know,” Red said, eyes twinkling. “We’ve both always been rather shy by nature—my husband’s just gruff—but Bernie got some of our differences too. He was the star of track-and-shield, and I the library’s resident bookworm. He always said she should join a sports team, but…”

Bernadetta grimaced. “I could never be on the same team as Felix Charming. I swear when he looks at me he can see straight through me.”

“He’s really just desperate to know how you run so fast in Grimmnastics,” Edelgard said. “In fact, I doubt any of the Royals would comprehend even if you walked into their midst with ears on full display.”

“It’s just best not to risk it,” Red said tightly. “If Bernadetta could transform into a Wolf, it might have been easier to work with that destiny. But as is, we thought she’d be safest following mine.”

Bernadetta looked down. “I’m not sure I really can, though. Or that… I even want to.”

Red took in a sharp breath. “Bernadetta!”

“But if you and Dad could—”

“We’ve talked about this. The Hoods and the Wolfs, Bernadetta, it’s just not safe…”

“I know, but Edelgard already changed things when she refused to sign the Storybook of Legends.” Bernadetta straightened. “I know it’s not safe, but you guys have spent my entire life sheltering me. It’s just… it’s not fair to you, or to me, and I wish…” Her shoulders slumped. “Never mind,” she muttered.

Edelgard glanced at Red. “You don’t think going off-script was a mistake, right?”

“No,” said Red, her tone fierce, “nothing that could have brought Bernadetta into our lives would be a mistake in my book. Still, most people would disagree.” Her eyes darkened, as if by some unbidden memory. “Edelgard, you’re a very brave girl. But change… real change takes more than bravery. Everything about our world is reinforced to resist it. Sometimes, you end up making sacrifices for the people you love.”

“Sacrifices?”

A commotion outside interrupted Red’s reply. She frowned, and Bernadetta quickly pulled up her hood. “What now?”

The girls peered over Red’s shoulder as she opened the door a crack. Farther up the path, a crowd of villagers had spilled out of their homes with torches and pitchforks, stopping short of a stream that separated their village from the forest. Edelgard noticed that iron gates bordered both ends of a stone bridge that spanned the water.

Red stepped outside to get a better look at the scene, and the two girls followed. “Hoods,” she said softly, as a man in the lead held up a young wolf in sheep’s wool by the scruff of its neck.

“Wolfs!” he bellowed across the stream. “What is the meaning of this?”

“It was just a stupid dare!” the young Wolf howled. He couldn’t have been more than a pup.

An involuntary shiver passed through Edelgard as the shadows between the trees poured out in the form of a dozen wolves, each one bigger and stronger-looking than the ones she’d encountered earlier. Their leader stood up and shifted into a tall, grey-bearded man with a deep-set scowl.

“That’s Uncle Cranky Wolf, Dad’s older brother,” Bernadetta whispered.

“Let the kid go,” Cranky Wolf growled. “He meant no harm.”

Someone in the Hoods’ crowd shouted, “Planting spies in our herds now, are you?”

“All the better to see you with,” one of the Wolfs said with a snicker.

“Stay out of our territory, you hairy freaks!” another Hood shouted.

“Who are you calling freaks, you backwaters witch-hunters?”

“Savage grandma-eaters!”

“Road-blind airheads!”

The shouts and name-calling escalated until Edelgard’s head hurt. The young Wolf in sheep’s clothing squirmed in the midst of it all, seemingly forgotten.

And to make matters worse, the mob was blocking the path to the village wishing well.

That wouldn’t do. She marched forward, ignoring Bernadetta’s startled yelp. Raising her hands, she yelled “STOP!” and unleashed a simple amplification spell.

Only it backfired, as usual, and the amplification sent actual shockwaves rolling through the crowd. Wolfs and Hoods alike were knocked onto their bottoms, and stunned silence fell across the clearing.

Then someone broke it with a cry. “Witch!”

Edelgard blinked and dispelled the violet sparks that fizzled around her open hands, but the damage had been done. The Hoods turned their wrath on her.

“It’s not just any witch,” someone added. “It’s Her daughter!”

The mob roared as one. “Get her!” they shouted. “Get the witch!”

“No, wait!” cried Red, stepping forward, only to be shoved aside when the Hoods descended like—well, like a pack of wolves.

Edelgard stepped backward as a hand grabbed her sleeve and another her wrist. She opened her mouth to utter another spell, but all that came out was an undignified cross between a gasp and a shriek when they lifted her off the ground. The mob seemed to swell beneath her, holding her arms and legs high above a sea of hoods.

“Throw her in the stream!” someone hollered.

“No!” came Bernadetta’s distant voice. “Please, put her down!”

“Dunk her!”

“Dunk the witch! Dunk the witch!”

Edelgard tensed, preparing to thrash and kick, but the sight of the torches and pitchforks under her froze her limbs. Her heart crashed wildly against her ribs. “Let me go!” she shouted, her voice going shrill.

Someone shoved a sock in her mouth. She choked on a gag. Darkness crept into the edges of her vision, and magic surged red-hot toward her fingers.

A howl tore through the air, drowning out the cries of the mob.

Edelgard looked wildly to the bridge. There, Bernadetta and her mother stood next to a massive lavender-grey wolf. But the wolf’s jaws were shut—it wasn’t what had stopped the mob.

The howl had come from Bernadetta.

She emitted a tiny squeak when all heads swiveled toward her. But when she met Edelgard’s gaze, her eyes flashed like silver. She leaned over the bridge. “Put her down,” she commanded. “Please,” she added in a tiny whisper.

The wolf next to her rolled its eyes.

Murmuring amongst themselves, the Hoods obeyed. The evil side of Edelgard wanted to stomp on someone’s foot and maybe strangle another with the sock, but that would only make her look childish.

“Where did that howl come from?” someone muttered.

“I could have sworn it was from the girl!”

“Bernadetta? Don’t be ridiculous; that’s Red’s daughter!”

Leaving them to their speculation, Edelgard strode with as much dignity as she could muster to the bridge; someone had thrown open the gates. Red rushed to embrace her. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

Edelgard froze. She almost raised her arms to return the hug, but her body seemed to have forgotten how to move.

Red withdrew, dark eyes brimming with concern. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” The words emerged thin and mechanical. Red squeezed her shoulders and let go, but kept one arm around her as they turned back to the others.

The Wolfs had started up a ruckus from their side of the stream as well. “You all saw it!” one of them howled. “She jumped the gate like—like an animal!”

“Like a Wolf!”

“What nonsense are you spewing this time, rat-gutters?” demanded the Hoods.

“Shut up, spineless worms,” the Wolfs retorted. “If you hadn’t been jumping to conclusions again, maybe you would have noticed!”

“PLEASE STOP!” Bernadetta shouted into the fray. “I mean, um, listen, you don’t know what you saw!”

“We sure as hex don’t!” a Wolf agreed. “You jumped the bridge and then howled!”

“Impossible!” cried the Hoods.

“OKAY, SO MAYBE I DID,” yelled Bernadetta. “Ugh, you guys have got to stop fighting all the time.”

The lavender wolf beside her, which Edelgard was pretty sure was Yuri, nodded enthusiastically.

“It’s our destiny, lass,” one of the Hoods said dismissively. “Just like how it’s the Big Bad Wolf’s destiny to be enemies with Red Riding Hood.”

“Unless you’re proposing some of that newfangled rebellion thing?” one of the Wolfs said.

The Hoods looked at the Wolf in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t you ever read the news? Edelgard Queen—”

“Decided to rewrite her destiny,” Bernadetta finished. “Yeah. Yeah, she did. And yeah, guess what, I’m going to do that too!”

Horror splashed across her mother’s face. “No, Bernadetta—”

Her daughter forged on anyway, her cheeks reddening with a fire Edelgard had never before seen in her timid, anxious roommate. “You all can try to stop me, but none of you could catch me if you tried, because I can run faster than every Hood and any Wolf! And even if you did stop me, that will never change the fact that you’re wrong. You’re all wrong about destiny. I know this because Red Riding Hood is not the Big Bad Wolf’s enemy.” She threw back her hood. “And neither is their daughter.”

Hoods and Wolfs gawked in utter silence. Red had let go of Edelgard; she was covering her mouth. Even Yuri stared at her slack-jawed.

Then chaos broke loose. The Hoods pointed their torches and pitchforks at the bridge, shouting things like “It’s black magic! It’s the witch!”

The Wolfs slunk toward the bridge, teeth bared, but Yuri whipped around with a snarl that sent them scurrying back.

“Bernadetta Hood, explain yourself!” The voice belonged to an elderly woman with tight silver curls and round silver-rimmed spectacles. Grandma—The Grandma. Everyone fell quiet again.

“I—” Bernadetta turned white as a sheet. “I-I’m…”

Yuri gave her shoulder a gentle nudge.

Bernadetta’s hands curled into fists. Still shaking, she raised her chin and said, “I’m the daughter of Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf. And no matter what anyone says, I am neither Hood nor Wolf. I’ll always be both. So I’m going to write a story for myself where I’m allowed to be both, maybe even a story where little girls in hoods don’t have to be afraid of the wolves in the forest, and where wolves don’t need to steal sheep to survive. I hope that someday you’ll come to understand.” She exhaled.

Of course, this made both parties break into roars of protest once more. Red was sobbing. Only Yuri still looked at Bernadetta. Edelgard had never thought a wolf’s eyes capable of expressing that much pride and disappointment in such equal measure.

Edelgard cleared her throat. “That was incredible, Bernadetta. I didn’t know you could do that.”

“I-I really didn’t know either.” Bernadetta wrapped her arms around herself, as if trying to shrink into her cloak. “It was just all so sudden. I am so terribly sorry for how they treated you, Edelgard, and by Grandma’s riding boots how angry they are! I don’t know if they’ll even allow us to keep living in Hood Hollow, and Dad’s gonna go crazy when he hears about it, and what do I do if this makes it back to school and everyone finds out Mr. Badwolf’s my dad and—”

Yuri nudged her hand with an exasperated huff.

“I know, I know, one thing at a time.” Her shoulders slumped. “Anyway, Edelgard, I-I just want to say thanks. For telling me I can be brave, and showing me how.” She smiled shyly.

“Oh,” said Edelgard. “Um, you’re welcome.”

Yuri looked at Edelgard and pointed his snout toward the village wishing well.

She crossed her arms. “I am not going near those pitchforks again.”

He rolled his eyes and pointed to the forest.

“Through the Wolfs? Ugh. Fine, at least they haven’t tried to kill me yet. Lead the way then.”

Shaking his head, he trotted down the bridge. She followed, stiffening when she passed the Wolfs—but they were all too yapping at each other to even notice.

Once in the woods, Yuri transformed back into his human self. He paused to pick a blade of grass off his coat, grimacing in distaste. “I think I got a pebble in my shoe,” he complained.

It was Edelgard’s turn to roll her eyes. Then she noticed the shadows to their left shift. “Oh, hi, Mr. Badwolf.”

The hulking form of her General Villainy teacher stormed out of the trees. He held a ringing MirrorPhone in one hand. “Edelgard Queen, what did you do this time?”

“Scared the whole village into torches and pitchforks,” said Yuri in a bored tone. “Almost got dunked. You should be proud.”

“Why would I be proud?” Mr. Badwolf scowled at Edelgard. “Did you turn them into toads at least?”

“No,” she said.

“Of course not. What is happening back there, Yuri?”

“You probably wanna go see for yourself.”

His scowl deepened, but just then someone finally picked up his phone call. As he raised it to his ear, Edelgard discreetly scrutinized him. Behind the booming voice and constantly-furrowed brow was Bernadetta’s father. Now that she looked, she did notice the slightest purplish tint in his hair and beard, and their eyes were a similar shape, though Mr. Badwolf’s were the shade of silver that had only briefly flashed in Bernadetta’s. Beyond that, their only physical resemblance seemed to be their sharp, angular Wolf ears.

Good thing Bernadetta’s father was a teacher Edelgard actually tolerated, not someone as insufferable as Ms. Wicked Witch.

“Curse this reception,” Mr. Badwolf growled at his phone. “I will see you both back at school,” he told them, his tone warning, before jogging toward the village. “Yes, Crank, I can hear you!” he barked into his phone.

“Watching you make a mess out of every remotely villainous spectacle makes me wonder how you’re not failing every class,” Yuri mused.

Edelgard scoffed and resumed walking. “School villainy is kindergarten-level for a villain of my mother’s caliber. I don’t have to let my grades suffer to rebel against her standards.”

“Spoken like a true villain kid. Love-starved and perfectionist.”

“Excuse me?”

“I saw how you reacted when Red hugged you. I’m not judging you or anything; lack of parental affection tends to breed good villains.”

“I am not starved of parental affection! Why in Ever After does everyone always forget my father is—I’m wasting my breath. You’re being provocative.”

“Just one of my many charms.”

“Quit acting like some suave ladies’ man. I saw the way you look at Bernadetta.”

He laughed—a moment too late for it to be genuine. “I’m sorry?”

“You heard me.” She jabbed her chin at him. “It’s much more noticeable when you’re in wolf form; you’re like a lovesick puppy.” She was exaggerating, but he deserved that.

He rolled his eyes. “You’re exaggerating.”

“But I’m right.”

“Doesn’t matter. She has her destiny, and I have mine. And unlike my predecessor, I’m not willing to give up everything just to go off-script in The End.” Bitterness tinged his tone.

Edelgard tilted her head, regarding him. “Pity.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t look at her. “Oh no, the great Edelgard Queen pities me. Should I be worried?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. If anything, I should be the one worried. I have no idea who you are or what you do, but you seem to hold quite some… influence among your people.” She shuddered at the memory of the Wolfs in the woods. “What I can’t figure out is why you’re so stubborn about your destiny, but you don’t object when Bernadetta abandons hers.”

“Oh. Okay, well.” He held up a finger. “One, Wolfs only speak one language, and that’s strength. It takes a lot to earn their respect, and I was a particularly scrawny pup. Two, I’m not stubborn—I’d call it ‘reasonably concerned,’ since you keep barging in and upending society everywhere you go. Someone has to clean up those messes, yeah? Three, Bernadetta has good intentions. She’s sheltered and a bit naïve, but she’s familiar with what people are really like without destiny. As for abandoning her destiny, well, it’s up to her to see that all the way through.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I see.”

“Yep.”

“You’re dedicated to your own cause,” she mused. “Shame, since I would have liked to see what you could do for mine.”

“Nope.”

She wondered what he thought of Dimitri, then. But it would be imprudent to ask, and the wishing well was in sight. “Well, thanks for all your help today. Not very villainous of you to come to my rescue no fewer than three times, but I suppose I shouldn’t look a gift unicorn in the mouth.”

“Definitely not. Unicorns stab. And bite.” He waved and slipped back into the dark.

Edelgard pulled up the Yester Day app on her phone, gratified to see signal had returned. As she waited for it to load, she pondered the puzzle that was Yuri Badwolf (if that was even his real name). He didn’t have any reason to believe in her; bravery and bold words alone wouldn’t make a dent on the world. But if even Bernadetta Hood could stand up in protest, then it was only a matter of proving Rhea Grimm wrong.

The blue icon finished loading, and she jumped into the well. As she closed her eyes to the rush of the plunge, she let herself dream a bit. In the grand scheme of things, a guy like Yuri might not make too big of a difference.

Still, Edelgard couldn’t help but look forward to changing his mind.

Chapter Text

Ingrid all but dragged Dimitri to the palace infirmary and sat him down on an empty cot. “Don’t try to escape,” she ordered while Marianne rummaged around the cabinets.

“Honestly, Ingrid, do you think me so shameless? I left a trail of blood through the entire castle!”

To someone not well-acquainted with him, he must have sounded annoyed, because Marianne turned and said, “I’m sorry you had to walk such a long way with your injury—I suppose having the infirmary on the third floor isn’t very convenient.”

“Not at all!” said Dimitri, eyes widening. A mistake, as a drop of blood oozed from his cut and nearly dripped into his eye. He grimaced and pressed the cloth in his hand back onto his forehead. “Well, I suppose it isn’t the most ideal, but that is hardly your fault. If anything, I should apologize for getting blood all over your floors.”

She ducked her head, not quite a nod, but only offered him a clean cloth. “Clean it with the rapunzel ointment,” she said. “It’ll sting a little.” Then glancing down she added, “You have some smaller scrapes on your hands. Let me get something for those, too.”

As she went to retrieve more materials, Sylvain’s voice came drifting down the hallway, lacking its usual joviality. “Yeah, I’ll be home by three. We’re at Marianne’s now… No, just me. Yeah.” A drawn-out silence. “Okay, bye.”

Dimitri and Ingrid exchanged glances.

“Here, can you hold out your hand?” Marianne sat down next to him with a pot of her ointment. Dimitri obeyed, his attention split unevenly between her sudden proximity and Sylvain’s noisy entrance.

“So anyway,” Sylvain said to Ingrid with laid-on cheer, “Felix will join us later at your place. He had the good sense to snap a picture of the beast before it disappeared, sent it in the group chat. Weirdest thing I’ve ever seen. Oh, how’s our wounded hero by the way?” He glanced over at Dimitri and gave a little gasp. “Ingrid! I just remembered I have to tell you something. Come with me a moment.”

“What is it?” She got up to follow him out.

Too late, Dimitri realized he and Marianne were now alone. Curse Sylvain. Or bless him—maybe both.

“Does it sting?” Marianne asked.

It did in fact sting, quite ferociously too, but the pain was numbed by her touch. She held his wrist as she dabbed the lacerations on his skin with a cloth. Her movements were practiced and precise, free of any hesitation. She hadn’t once looked up from his hand.

“Not really,” he said, trying to stare at something other than her. His gaze shifted restlessly around the room. “You seem… quite comfortable in the infirmary,” he finally ventured.

“My mom taught me the basics,” she said. “Her mother was an apothecary. Um, can you give me your other hand? The salve should have set in by now.”

He lowered the cloth he’d still been holding to his forehead. “Oh, of course.” As she took his other hand, he tried to put his mind on anything other than the electric jolt to his pulse, which he hoped she didn’t notice was thundering a hundred times faster than normal. “An apothecary, you say?”

“Yes.” With her eyes focused on her task, she seemed much more forthcoming than usual. “My mom would teach me by demonstrating on injured animals we found around the woods. And on me, too, when I was younger.”

“Ah. Were you the type to get into scrapes often?”

She peered at the rapidly-fading cuts on his hand, her gaze clinical. “Oh, quite often. Mostly falling off horses, that sort of thing. One time sweet Claribel crashed through a fence, with me still on her. Thank goodness, she turned out okay.”

A smile rose to Dimitri’s face, at the way she expressed more concern over a horse than herself. “That sounds like something that would have happened to me when I was a child.”

“Really, you too?” She looked up at last. A wisp of sky-blue hair had escaped her updo and now brushed her cheek. Upon meeting his gaze she glanced down again, dropping his hand. “Um. I wouldn’t have expected that of you.”

“Truly?” His voice came out oddly husky. He cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I was quite reckless as a child. Still am, as any of my friends would gladly tell you.”

Marianne made a noise just short of a laugh. “Well… I suppose all children can be like that.” She stood up to gather up the materials.

Not sure what else to do, Dimitri watched her, wondering in the back of his mind what her actual laugh would sound like.

“May I… ask you a question?”

“Of course,” he said immediately. Then he mentally berated himself. They were just having a conversation, for goodness’s sake—there was no need to hang off her every word like an infatuated admirer.

“I’ve noticed that… you’re always…” She paused as if struggling to find the right words, her cheeks coloring. “Even since nursery-rhyme, you’ve always gone out of your way to be kind. Not just to other royals like me, but also to the commoners, and even the villains. I guess I’m curious why you would do that. Especially to those who are, you know… destined to hurt other people.”

Dimitri frowned. “May I ask where this is coming from?”

“It’s just—” Her cheeks colored further. “You might not remember, but you asked me once if you offended me in some way, and I didn’t give a very clear answer…”

“Oh, that!” He smiled at her. “It did leave me with some more questions, I’ll admit, but mostly I was relieved that I wasn’t really bothering you. Of course, I wouldn’t mind more clarification, but only if you want to tell me.” In actuality, now that she brought it up, he did want to know. Her opinion of him probably shouldn’t matter so much, but—it was the duty of a good leader to understand their subjects. And though Marianne wasn’t going to be a future subject, she was still a friend.

“I’m not a very good person to be around,” she said slowly, “so sometimes I don’t realize when people are being kind to me, just to be kind. I’m sorry if it came across as unfriendly or ungrateful or… you know.”

Dimitri frowned once again, but noticing how her shoulders drooped at his expression tried to turn it back into a smile. “I… I really don’t think that at all, Marianne. I think you’re a wonderful person to be around, and I apologize if I ever seemed upset with you over something like that—that would be entirely my fault, not yours.”

She cast him a skeptical look. “You don’t have to… say things just to be nice, you know.”

“I’m not—I mean every word, truly.” He shifted in his seat, restless with unease. “I’m sorry, I simply don’t understand why you’d think I wouldn’t want to be around you.”

Her eyebrows drew together. “I’m the daughter of the Beast. I’m not meant to be much good for company.”

Dimitri was about to vehemently protest again, but something about her words struck him as odd. “But you’re the daughter of Beauty and the Beast. Your character is that of one so gracious that she could befriend even a cursed Beast.”

She stared at him blankly.

He stared back.

Then she grimaced and started busying her hands with the medicine cabinet, reordering the ointments on the shelves. “Um, but I’m not… I’m not destined to be Beauty, Dimitri.”

He blinked. “Pardon?”

“I am the princess,” she said softly. “I’m the one cursed to transform into a Beast. By being cruel and selfish and ruinous. That is the destiny I’ve had all my life, and the one that I signed on Legacy Day.”

Dimitri’s brain must be moving slower than usual today, because only then did her words click in his mind. “You’re destined to—oh.”

“Did you really not know…?”

“I didn’t,” he said stupidly. “I had assumed… I mean…” All this time he’d been confused for no reason, thinking that she should look forward to her destiny when in reality—why, every child in Fódlan knew the story of “Beauty and the Beast” by heart. There may be a happily-ever-after at its end, but before that…

“It’s all right,” she said. “It was silly of me to assume you’d just know, now that I think about it. Anyway, if that’s the case, then I suppose this was all just a big misunderstanding—”

“I am terribly sorry, Marianne,” he burst out. “I can’t believe what a fool I’ve been. But—but even so! I don’t think that changes anything about what I said earlier. It pains me to hear that you had to carry such a burden for so long.”

“You shouldn’t apologize… Anyway, it’s hardly something to be shared among friends. The Beast is destined to be lonely, after all.” Her voice lowered into a murmur. “To do otherwise would be to… to rebel.”

That gave Dimitri a pause, but for only a moment. “I disagree,” he said. “The Beast is destined to find true love and begin a new life at the end of his story. Parts of his story are dark, and I won’t presume to measure the pain he must experience. But just because there will be a loneliness doesn’t mean you must be lonely now. That’s like punishing yourself for something you haven’t even done! You deserve more than that.”

She looked away again, brow furrowed. “That’s…”

“It doesn’t feel good, does it? The wondering. If it’s really your own fault. If there’s any point in facing the world with a smile, even when you think you’ve failed them all?”

“How did you…”

“You and I are the same in that regard,” he said plainly. “And if you ask me, I think you make much better company. I’m something of a walking disaster, if you haven’t already noticed.”

To his pleasant surprise, she gave a brief chuckle at that—no doubt remembering the Enchanted Forest incident, or the way he’d stumbled out of her home wishing well with a bleeding head wound. To further his point, he said without thinking, “A smile and a laugh? Coming from you, that’s a rarity. This must be my lucky day.”

“No, it’s just—” she tried and failed to chase the smile from her face, which he didn’t mind at all. “I find the idea amusing, to think that someone like you would have anything in common with me.”

He crossed his arms. “Is that so terrible a thought?”

“No, not at all. I simply didn’t think you could be so… stubborn.” She shook her head with another smile.

His heart did something strange at that. “I hope it doesn’t make me that much less of a conversation partner.”

“Not at all,” she repeated. “Dorte is quite the same way, and I find him an excellent conversation partner.”

“Ah! That must be high praise indeed.”

“I’m sure Dorte would agree,” she said with another laugh, and he wondered if Dedue could actually carve his heart out to study it. “Thank you, Dimitri… I’m glad I got the chance to talk to you about this.”

Before Dimitri could reply with something foolish, Sylvain sailed back into the room, a spring in his step. “Sorry to interrupt,” he positively sang, “but the king’s free to see you now, Dimitri.”

Dimitri tore his gaze away from Marianne to stare at his friend. “Huh?” He blinked. “You mean for the interview? Of course, thank you, Sylvain.” He rose, pausing on his way to the door. “And thank you, Marianne.”

“Hmm? Oh—um, have a nice weekend,” she said quickly.

He gave her one last smile and followed Sylvain out. Once they reached the end of the hall, Sylvain opened his mouth again. “I see you must have enjoyed your time with—”

“Shut up, Sylvain.”

~~~

Suffice it to say, Dimitri had a difficult time paying attention to the rest of his Yester Day interviews. He’d confidently refuted all of Marianne’s arguments, hypocrite that he was, and that knowledge weighed him down through every unhelpful conversation he had with the current leaders of Fódlan. Sleeping Beauty fell asleep halfway through the interview, Cinderella’s advice was to “just try harder,” and Rapunzel suggested waiting everything out. Marianne’s parents emphasized something to the effect of relying on loved ones through times of trouble, which made him only think about Marianne again.

He really needed to stop thinking about Marianne. The sly looks Sylvain slid him all day were becoming insufferable, bringing to mind the first and only time he’d ever had a crush. That hadn’t ended well. Partly because that crush was about as oblivious as a rock troll, but mostly because she was none other than the girl destined to murder him. At any rate, Dimitri White could never do “crushes” or “flings” or “forbidden romances.” That was really more Sylvain’s thing.

But of course, he was no Glenn either, so there was no need to worry about the chances of such a thing happening anyway.

So Dimitri shut the book on that rabbit-hole and resolved to focus on more present matters. He found that marginally easier to do once he stepped foot in his final destination: home.

The White palace was much the same as ever—pristine with its tall glass windows and sparkling floors but cozily furnished, each luxurious couch outfitted with bunny-patterned pillows, every available surface home to at least one basket filled with sewing tools, fruit, or other such random items. The servants welcomed him with cheery smiles, the dwarven craftsmen with somewhat less cheer; he waved and called out greetings by name, the comfort of familiarity lifting his spirits.

He found his mother in one of the lounges, newspaper in hand. She glanced up at the sound of his footsteps. “Dimitri!”

She rose to embrace him, enveloping him in the scent of apple blossoms. He sensed no tension, no sign that she was upset. He hoped coming to her for advice would alleviate any possible disappointment.

“Hello, Mother,” he said. “Where’s Dad?”

“Oh, he’s covering for me at a meeting today. So I could take any visitors for Yester Day, and wait for you.” She beamed, her smile as radiant as ever.

He sat down beside her. “Who came today?”

“Hmm, there was your friend Annette-what a beautiful young lady she’s grown up to be!—and sweet Ferdinand—always so passionate about his destiny. And you just missed Linhardt. That boy continues to surprise me with his astuteness; he’s just like his mother.”

Dimitri couldn’t help but smile. It was just like Snow White to compliment every person she mentioned in passing. That was only one of the many reasons people loved her—she meant every word.

“How were your visits, dear?”

“Well…” Dimitri scratched the faded scars on his hands. “They were eventful, to be sure.” He recounted the tale of his day, leaving out some less-relevant details like his conversation with Marianne.

Snow listened, only breaking in to comment on Felix’s bravery and Marianne’s kindness and such. Then he summarized the rest of his conversations with her fellow kings and queens, concluding with his Yester Day question. “How would you handle this sort of trouble, Mother?”

“You know…” She looked thoughtful. “I do understand why the others all answered the way they did. I would have said the same, because it’s true. Thanks to destiny, our kingdoms have always been peaceful.”

Dimitri nodded in agreement.

“But that has often left us unprepared in the face of unscripted crises.” Her doe-brown eyes dimmed. “I should know.”

Even after all these years, Snow seemed to partly blame herself for the Evil Queen’s corruption. Dimitri put his hand on her shoulder. “It’s not your fault, Mother.”

“Perhaps not,” she said, “but perhaps I could have done something to prevent it nevertheless. The hatred that consumed her was a poison of its own, much worse than anything she ever tried to feed me. I knew she never liked me much, but… I saw good in her once, Dimitri.”

“But destiny has its way.”

Snow sighed, and a bluebird on the windowsill fluttered in to rest on her shoulder. “Not that kind of evil. No one could be born that way.”

And yet, look what happened when she went off-script…

“There have always been dark times,” Snow said. “My days in her palace were. But no matter what, I always had hope, because there were kind people in my story. The Huntsman, the dwarves, and of course, all my woodland friends.” She smiled at the bluebird. “But… I don’t think she had that kind of person. Or perhaps she pushed them away. I could have tried harder for her, maybe. Perhaps if I had, Wonderland would still be there.”

“It is still here,” Dimitri said firmly. “It’s not gone forever, Mother—someone’s going to fix it.”

She looked at him with heavy eyes. “Who?”

He shifted. In a world full of heroes, there was bound to be someone. Right?

“To fix what happened to Wonderland would take a new leader,” said Snow, squeezing his hand. “But because there was no story for the poisoning of Wonderland, there is likewise no story about its healing. And Fódlan is built on existing stories.”

“Then… are you suggesting we should write new ones into existence?” His mother of all people wouldn’t agree with Edelgard Queen, would she?

Snow squeezed his hand again. “All I’m saying is that unscripted things happen sometimes. And as much as we wish they wouldn’t, we have to deal with them somehow.” She exhaled softly and smiled at him. “So here’s my advice for you. Be the leader they need you to be, Dimitri.”

He tried to force a smile. It didn’t quite work. “How?”

“Through every trial, the one thing you can do is to…” She leaned closer. “Keep smiling.”

“Smile?”

“Mm-hmm.” She leaned back, her cheeks dimpling. “People look to you, Dimitri. If you smile, they won’t be so scared. Chaos is born of fear, after all.”

“But…”

“I understand it’s hard. But if you can find something to smile—truly smile about, well, so will they.”

He stared at her in dismay. “But… I already do that, and it just makes people take me less seriously.”

“You have to remember to look back at them, then. When they look to you, look back.”

His brow furrowed. “Do you mean… making eye contact?”

Snow smiled and nodded.

Dimitri imagined smiling and making eye contact with Edelgard in the middle of a food fight while she yelled at him behind a cauldron of porridge. He could see that going over well.

“Look deeper,” Snow said. I want you to see them for who they are beneath—”

A dwarf rushed into the room, red-faced and breathless. “Your Majesty! I’m sorry to interrupt, but the finch has returned.”

“Oh, dear,” said Snow, rising. She turned to Dimitri. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you’ll see me at dinner. Don’t forget to check on Dad, okay?”

“Of course.” He watched her go, a stew of doubts and—there it was—disappointment simmering inside him. Smile and make eye contact? She didn’t understand either, did she?

Well, no use thinking more on it now. He sighed and pulled out his MirrorPhone. He’d yet to check any of his messages today—including the image Felix had captured of the beast that had attacked them earlier. Sitting up, he tapped it open and tried to make sense of what he saw.

According to Felix, neither of his parents recognized it, so it couldn’t be native to Charming Kingdom. Was it even native to Fódlan?

An idea struck him, and he scrolled down his contacts list until he found the name he was looking for.

DIMITRI: Hello Ashe, I was wondering if you have any stories lined up for next week?

As expected, the reply was almost immediate.

ASHE LOCKES: hi, i dont think so. bo-peep is covering the school feature the week school starts again. why?

DIMITRI: how about the Yester Day special feature?

ASHE: flayn’s doing the mirrorcast

ASHE: oh do u have a story for me?

Dimitri sent the photo Felix had taken and explained his “story.” Not long afterward, he was strolling the palace grounds, MirrorPhone to his ear as an excited Ashe fired questions at him.

“I’ll go check out some books when I get back to school,” the son of Goldilocks said. “Though the school library doesn’t always have what I need… Maybe I’ll have better luck here at home.”

“I’d love to hear anything you find,” said Dimitri.

“Absolutely! And you’re sure you’re fine with me publishing this in the school paper?”

“Yes, I’m hoping someone might contact you with more information that way.”

“Okay, cool. Thanks a bunch, Dimitri!” Ashe’s voice was filled with that jubilant tone reporters got whenever they had a good story within sight. “I won’t let you down!”

Chapter Text

“Can you believe we’re almost halfway through Wyvern Moon?” Edelgard hid a yawn behind her hand as she stepped off the troll bridge. Ahead of her, sunset cast a warm golden hue upon Ever After High. Students milled around campus and the streets of Book End, their chatter a familiar background hum.

Hubert strolled beside her, occasionally clicking his tongue at Spindle when the pooch rambled too far off. “Indeed, time does fly.” He stretched his wings, which looked awfully cramped after a three-hour carriage drive from his ancestral home. Though Hubert lived with his grandmother near Queen Castle, he had spent the week-long Yester Day break at his dad’s place, deep in the heart of the Dark Forest.

He had been spending more time there in recent years, especially after he signed his destiny. That meant lonelier vacations for Edelgard, but she couldn’t exactly ask him to stop. He’d do whatever she thought he wanted, so even though she missed their rainy evenings playing chess it wouldn’t do to intrude upon his bonding time with his dad, or whatever he was doing there.

“Something on your mind, Lady Edelgard?”

“Oh, I was just reminiscing.”

Silence fell between them, like a dense blanket of thorns. Edelgard found herself looking forward to the liveliness that her other friends would bring when she saw them again—anything to dispel this strange distance between her and her oldest companion.

As they approached the school’s front steps, Hubert fell back to send his dog away. A couple Edelgard recognized from another class waved at her, slowing as they passed by.

“Hey, how was your week?” the girl asked with a friendly smile.

“It was nice, thank you.” Thank goodness her father had taught her basic princess manners, or she’d be at a loss in surprise right now. “Yours?”

“Just fairest.” The girl’s eyes moved beyond her. “Are you friends with him, by the way?”

Puzzled, Edelgard glanced over her shoulder. “Who?”

“Hubert Thorn,” the guy said with a shudder. “A literal thorn in my side if there ever was one.”

“You only say that because he routinely kicks your butt in Hero Training,” his girlfriend said bluntly.

“Well yeah, because the guy plays dirty! Dame Gothel has had to stop him from actually injuring people before. You know someone’s dedicated when an evil professor has to draw the line.”

Edelgard withheld a huff of amusement. She’d heard Hubert’s side of the story—he’d had to save birdbrained heroes from running into real danger numerous times. And apparently being accused of attempted maiming raised his score, so he did so none too gently. “Hubert isn’t evil.”

“He just made a small child cry,” said the girl, unconvinced.

The all-too familiar sound of a toddler’s wail confirmed her point.

Edelgard sighed. Accursed nursery-rhyme school trips. “A few weeks ago, you wouldn’t listened if I said I wasn’t evil. I understand that Hubert is… intimidating…” She paused as another kid started bawling. “But that’s hardly a basis for a person’s morality. Besides, if anything, his dad was nowhere as evil as my mother.”

A chill swept through the pair at the mention of Her.

“So, really,” said Edelgard, “Hubert’s not evil.”

A third child started crying, and the couple slowly shook her heads in disbelief.

Hubert returned to Edelgard’s side, looking disgruntled. “Little brats wouldn’t leave Spindle alone,” he said sulkily; then his cold gaze landed on his classmates. “Good evening, Derek,” he said, his tone lightening. “Recovering well from that snakebite, I see.”

The other boy turned white, then red, then white again. “Why, you—”

“Let’s just go, babe,” the girl muttered, and dragged him off.

Hubert watched them go, eyebrows raised.

When they were out of earshot, Edelgard asked him, “Do you enjoy that?”

“Offending people on sight? Not particularly. Though it has never particularly bothered me either.” Hubert followed as she started up the school steps. “Is something the matter?”

Edelgard hesitated, then laughed. “Perhaps.”

“Ah,” he said, as if he’d thought of something distasteful. “Do you find my manner disturbing, Lady Edelgard?”

“No,” she said plainly. “You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t terrifying.” She imagined him smiling sweetly and waving at the pixie that peeked out at them from the bushes, like a good fairy, and found the image properly ridiculous. “But tell me—do you consider yourself evil?”

“I think…” His wings shifted inward, folding underneath his cloak. “It would be inadequate to describe me in such a way.”

“Oh? Then how would you describe yourself?”

“Horrible, really,” he said, stepping around one of the Three Little Piggies, who squealed and fled down the castle steps. “Depraved.” A tiny fairy flying by froze up midair, her light winking out as if extinguished. “Grotesque, even.” He glanced at another group of nursery-rhyme schoolchildren touring the main hall, and as if on cue, every single one of them burst into tears.

The children’s caretaker glared daggers at Hubert, who had already turned his attention elsewhere. One of the kids stopped crying and said, “Look! It’s the green-haired girl!”

The giant mirrors hanging above the student lockers had flickered to life. “The green-haired girl”—Flayn Grimm—appeared on-screen, microphone in hand, eyes bright.

“Attention, fellow fairytales! It’s that time of year again—elections for Royal Student Council president! Today, we’re asking some of our very own students to share their hopes for the new administration… even though there’s only one candidate!” She beamed at the camera, which promptly cut to Lysithea Breadhouse, who sat in the Mad Hatter’s Wonderlandian Tea Shoppe & Haberdashery, holding a cupcake with the largest pile of frosting Edelgard had ever seen.

“I mean, what’s there to be said?” Lysithea took a delicate bite of her cupcake and continued around a mouthful of fairyberry-pink frosting, “Dimitri’s gonna be president again, won’t he?”

Flayn asked from off-camera, “What do you think of his reign so far, Lysithea?”

The daughter of the Candy Witch gave a matter-of-fact shrug. “All right, I guess. I am getting a little tired of everything being about Royals though. Royal balls, royal fundraisers, royal this, royal that.” She waved her free hand in the air. “Wouldn’t it be nice if for once we had, I don’t know, a more egalitarian system?”

Murmurs of assent came from the students in the hall, who watched with eyes glued to their screens. Others gasped indignantly at the implication of her words. Dimitri White—not perfect? Unbelievable!

The camera cut to Annette Ella. She sat lacing up a pile of glass shoes, surrounded by mice and little fairies who helped hand her each new pair. “I think Dimitri’s a great leader,” she said brightly, setting aside a pair of boots with ivy-like detail. “But just because he’s the only candidate doesn’t mean I won’t work my crown off as his royal vice-president! This semester, I really hope to focus more on environmental awareness.”

“Seriously?” came a voice from the crowd. “Legacy Day has us all questioning our destinies and they want us to practice tree-hugging?”

Beside Edelgard, Hubert made an amused noise.

“Interesting,” Edelgard said. She turned and headed for the dormitories, still paying attention to the mirrorcast.

Leonie Beanstalk was on the screen, her face obscured by a sports helmet and her waist secured with a bungee vine. “If you ask me, we need someone fearless,” she shouted above the roar of the wind. “Someone who’s not afraid to nudge us out of our comfort zones, especially after Legacy Day.” With that, she dove off the side of the beanstalk.

“We need someone chill,” said Hilda Cheshire, curled up in a tree—in the Invisible Apple Grove, which meant she appeared to be floating in midair. “Someone who’s not afraid to like, take it easy. Like Claude or someone cool like that, you know?”

Claude’s voice came from somewhere off-camera: “I said I’m not running for Royal Student Council, Hilda!”

Pouting, Hilda settled into another sleeping position. “Well, I just think if Dimitri set aside more funding for more parties, then he would be purrr-fect.”

Dimitri himself showed up next, sending a ripple through the students. He held a broken lance, talking to someone off-camera.

“Dimitri!” Flayn chirped. “Can you tell us about your plans as Royal Student Council president?”

He turned, pushing his hair off his glistening forehead—Edelgard rolled her eyes as several girls nearby swooned—and smiled at the camera. “Well, I’d like to see more collaboration between royals and commoners this term. It won’t be easy, but it’s something that I believe will greatly benefit our community.”

“Especially in these uncertain times, I’m sure,” said Flayn.

A student in the hallway scoffed. “Good luck with that. He couldn’t even stop a simple Castleteria fight.”

Other people murmured agreement. Edelgard scanned the crowd, surprised to see no royals stepping up to defend their leader. The few students with crowns on their heads said nothing, as if cowed by the amount of dissenters. Instead they stewed in silence, brows furrowed and mouths downturned.

“Last but certainly not least, we have a faculty member, none other than this semester’s new Royal Student Council advisor!” The camera cut to Professor Byleth, who looked affronted at being interrupted while cleaning up a coffee spill on a stack of student papers. “Professor, what’s your take on the current student government? Any advice for those interested in joining?”

Professor Byleth’s frosty green eyes didn’t so much as blink. “There will be some adjustments to the council administration this year in light of recent events,” he said, with no hint of enthusiasm. Perhaps because he’d been trying to clean up a coffee spill. “I encourage all students to follow along on updates and of course, if possible, to vote.”

Flayn’s smiling face appeared on-screen once more. “And that’s all from our viewers! Remember to tune in for our next episode, and look forward to live updates on the election on MyChapter! Have a fairest rest of your day, my fellow students!”

As the mirror feed returned to the static EAH logo, Edelgard turned to Hubert with a small smile, her past cares briefly forgotten.

“Well, Hubert,” she said, “why don’t I run for president?”

~~~

Two weeks later, Edelgard walked through the halls of Ever After High, this time with an entirely different companion—one that made her almost miss the comfortable, easygoing silence of Hubert Thorn.

“Hello, Ashe—your most recent story was masterfully written, as usual! Ah, Professor Manuela, I’m glad to see you’ve recovered from that cold you spoke of last week. Good afternoon, Dorothea, you are as ever fair as the weather we are having!”

In all her eleven years of knowing him, Edelgard had never dreamed of working alongside Ferdinand V.A. Cupid. Or perhaps it was better to say she had never imagined that he would willingly work with her. She knew he didn’t mean to, but being the son of Eros, he often behaved in a manner that most mortals would view as condescending. She’d fallen into that line of thinking more than once herself, especially as a child; and when it came to her, she knew he’d always been somewhat contrary. But today, here he was as her staunch supporter, sailing along beside her through a crowd of students, his great white wings flaring with every dramatic gesture, his voice carrying easily over the noise around them.

“This year’s student council debate has drawn quite a large crowd,” he observed as they approached the Charmitorium. “It seems your novel ideas have attracted even more people than before.”

Edelgard smiled wryly. “Of course they have. I have you to spread them for me.”

“I was mostly sharing my own ideas,” he said cheerfully, “but your razor wit and notions of reform match mine surprisingly well, so it is only natural we should succeed as partners.”

“Yes,” said Edelgard, “I do think we stand a chance against the royals.”

They walked past the many doors into the Charmitorium, heading backstage instead. The doors were plastered with posters, of which two took the spotlight: one blue and silver, featuring apple-shaped patterns at the borders and a picture of Dimitri White with his dimpled smile; the other sporting feather-like designs and an image of Edelgard, her smile more reserved but exuding “an air of quiet confidence,” in Dorothea’s words. Also in Dorothea’s words, “Ferdie certainly adds more than enough extra volume.”

To which he had of course proclaimed, “Indeed, as her future vice president, I should promote my candidate with as much vigor as I can muster! I do look forward to proof of Edelgard’s leadership, after all.”

As much as his phrasing irked her, she could only appreciate his support. If there was one thing she had learned over the last few weeks, it was the undeniable fact that it would take a lot more than some motivational speeches to make real change at Ever After High. It was time to take matters into her own hands.

Inside the dimly-lit backstage room, Professor Byleth stood with Flayn, their heads bent over a comically long roll of paper, the curled end of which Claude examined from atop a flying carpet. On the other side of the room, Dimitri, Annette, and Yuri crowded around a faintly-pulsing crystal orb atop a tall metal pole.

“Tech issues?” Edelgard said, startling two of the three—Yuri merely acknowledged her with a twitch of an ear.

“Just a few hiccups with the sound system,” said Dimitri, brows knit. “If he doesn’t get it up in time we may have to shout the whole debate.”

Yuri scoffed, the corner of his lip lifting to reveal a sharp canine. “I already told you it won’t come to that.”

“I know,” said Dimitri, mirth buoying his voice.

“Well, why don’t you royal highnesses leave it to me, then, and for Grandma’s sake stop hovering?”

Edelgard cast Dimitri a curious look, amused by the prospect that he of all people could successfully needle Yuri Badwolf—and enjoy it too, no less.

Regardless, the two royals obediently backed off. Annette tripped over a wire on the floor, and Yuri’s sigh reverberated through the small room.

“Sorry!” she whispered. Then emitted another “sorry” when she clipped Ferdinand’s wing while stepping back, and one more “Ack, I’m so sorry!” when her glass-slippered heel crunched onto a section of paper that was trailing the floor.

Claude flicked aside the end of the scroll. “What’s all this for anyway? Can’t make hats or tails of it!”

“Perhaps because you were reading it upside-down?” Ferdinand said sensibly.

Claude waved him off. “Don’t be sensible. I was reading it properly—sideways.”

“Most of this is just a recipe for snow-sugar cookies,” Flayn said, looking up with a puzzled expression.

Professor Byleth gazed down at the scroll in his hands, then turned it over to reveal a much shorter list of hand-scrawled questions. After a moment of silence, he said resignedly, “We were looking at the recipe notes.”

Claude snorted. “That explains why I was reading a mile-long personal anecdote about the talking snowdrops that gave the author this recipe.”

Sighing, the professor handed the scroll to Flayn. “Apologies for the confusion. The rest of you, get ready—we’ve wasted enough time.” Rubbing his eyes, he turned toward the stage door.

“Is it just me,” Ferdinand whispered to Edelgard, “or has he grown more and more absent-minded since Legacy Day?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “I wouldn’t call it absent-minded, exactly, but… I think you’re right.” Something was off. Though he’d never been the smiley sort, Professor Byleth was one of Edelgard’s kindest teachers, and her favorite for that reason. Not that it was hard to be relatively kind considering all her other teachers were witches, dark sorcerers, and other professional villains, but that wasn’t important.

Perhaps it was stress or fatigue, but Edelgard was the daughter of the most skilled sorceress in centuries, and personally, she smelled magic afoot. She wondered if it had something to do with the curse of his story… come to think of it, what was his story again?

“Let’s hurry,” Dimitri called over his shoulder, breaking her out of her speculation.

Five minutes later, Edelgard and Dimitri stood behind podiums on opposite sides of the Charmitorium stage, facing the audience—and Flayn, who sat at a table before them, her green braids shining in the spotlight. The other student council representatives, as well as Ferdinand and Annette, sat in a row of seats behind them.

“Welcome, fellow fairytales, to the Royal Student Council Debate!” Flayn beamed at Dimitri and Edelgard—and the mirrorcams that projected her face onto the giant mirror above them. “My first question is for Dimitri White. Why would anyone not vote for you?”

Edelgard barely refrained from rolling her eyes.

“Allow me to say,” said Dimitri, his deep voice as steady and confident as his azure gaze, “that I will preside over this council as I will my future kingdom, with devotion, honor, and justice.”

That made the royal half of the audience cheer and clap and cast smug looks at the rebels, who scowled back in stubborn silence.

“Now, Edelgard, why would you run against Dimitri?” asked Flayn, her tone jubilant and free of malice. “Have you lost your crown?”

Edelgard leaned forward. “Change and growth don’t happen overnight,” she said. “My goal is to lead all of us, royal or commoner, into a more equal, more cooperative future, step by step.”

Her supporters erupted into applause, shooting the royals smug looks of their own. In the front row, Lorenz Hearts sprang to his feet. “I beg your pardon!”

Dorothea yelled back, “You heard her!”

“Yeah, Dimitri’s been president long enough!” Caspar added.

The other royals sent up a wave of indignant protests. Edelgard’s supporters matched them shout for shout. Faces on both sides reddened, and Edelgard smelled another brewing disaster.

Flayn gaped in a combination of horror and fascination, and in the front row, Professor Byleth and Seteth exchanged weary looks. As the latter rose from his seat, Edelgard felt a sudden breeze brush her neck, and a white feather drifted down from above.

Like thunder, a single voice rolled through the Charmitorium: “ENOUGH!”

All fell silent.

Edelgard whirled around, eyes wide. The very air around her shuddered, seized by traces of an otherworldly brand of very old, very powerful magic.

Ferdinand floated above the dumbstruck student council representatives, the beat of his wings the only sound in the Charmitorium. He gestured down at Claude and Annette, who sat below him looking stunned.

“Arguing like this serves no one,” he said, his voice stern but at a more normal volume. “Since it appears we cannot reach a consensus, may I suggest an alternative solution?”

~~~

“Ferdinand, what were you thinking?”

Following the disastrous Royal Student Council “Debate,” Edelgard had dodged Flayn’s attempts to spark a live interview in order to chase her so-called vice president out into the hall. He was in no hurry himself, walking along at a ponderous pace as excited students poured out of the Charmitorium. As she caught up to him, Hubert materialized at her side.

The son of Eros turned, and for a split second guilt seemed to flash across his features. Then he cleared his throat. “Ah. Hello.”

“You did not answer her question,” said Hubert, with the tone one would use to address a roach.

“Never mind that,” said Edelgard, her mind already moving on. “Did Claude put you up to it?”

Ferdinand’s wings bristled. “Claude did not ‘put me up’ to anything, as a matter of fact, but he was the one to propose the idea. Though it was I who undertook the responsibility of making it heard.”

Edelgard shook her head, watching him closely. “But why?”

At that moment Professor Byleth strode out of the Charmitorium, MirrorPhone to his ear; behind him trailed Annette and Dimitri, locked in an argument with Claude.

“I think it’ll be all right,” Claude was saying. “I mean, you still have ‘Nette as vice prez.”

Edelgard frowned at Ferdinand. “Then what about you? We can’t have two vice presidents.”

“Of course not,” he said, turning to Annette. “I offered to give up my claim on that role so as not to complicate things. It was no big deal, really, since it would help keep the peace.”

Claude joined them, smiling in a slightly self-satisfied way that irritated something inside Edelgard. “See, Ferdinand gets it.” He spread his arms. “Whatever your ends, my friends, our current pains are the same. Teamwork is of the utmost importance!”

“Indeed, Claude, I could not have put it better myself,” Ferdinand said.

Looking uncertain, Annette glanced at Edelgard. Then, to the latter’s surprise, she extended a hand. “It’s already been decided, so… I look forward to working with you.”

A smile crept across Edelgard’s face as she shook the daughter of Cinderella’s hand. “Likewise.”

Dimitri cleared his throat. “There is actually an open spot among student council representatives on the event planning committee. It’s an appointed position, and I’d like to offer it to you, Ferdinand.”

“I would be honored,” said Ferdinand. Then he looked at Edelgard. “What say you, co-president of Royal Student Council?”

Edelgard raised an eyebrow, noting his deliberate invocation of her new title. “I couldn’t think of anyone better suited,” she said truthfully. “Someone with your mind would be of great help on this new council.”

“My thoughts exactly,” said Dimitri, his shoulders relaxing.

Annette tapped something out on her MirrorPad. “Great, I’ll jot that down. If that’s all settled, you’ll have to excuse me—I have a shift at the Glass Slipper to catch!”

“Ah, I must also be off,” said Ferdinand, spreading his wings. “Edelgard, will you join the study group in the library?”

“Not today. You and Hubert should go without me.”

Hubert looked about to protest, but thought better of it and grudgingly followed Ferdinand, albeit on foot.

Claude gazed after their retreating forms. “You know, I always have wondered what the two of you would accomplish if you put those stubborn crowns together.”

Edelgard’s lips pressed together.

“Don’t start, Claude,” Dimitri said.

“I’m serious,” the son of Alice said, throwing up his hands. “For once. Half the time you two are so busy hissing at each other to even think about cooperating.”

“Thanks to you, I suppose that shouldn’t be a problem anymore,” Edelgard said, slightly cross. Then, minding her tone, she added, “What’s in it for you?”

He popped off his hat and reached into its bottomless depths, rummaging around til he pulled out Earl Grey. “We all want happily-ever-afters, don’t we?”

The dormouse scampered across his shoulders and nodded its agreement.

Dimitri straightened. “Look alive, both of you.”

Headmistress Rhea greeted them with a graceful smile as she approached, flanked by Seteth and an unfamiliar young woman.

“I hear congratulations are in order,” said Rhea, her voice butter-smooth even as her green eyes tightened at the sight of Edelgard. “As… unscripted as your coming is, welcome to the Royal Student Council, Miss Queen.” She placed a slight emphasis on the word Royal.

Edelgard didn’t so much as blink. “Thank you.”

Rhea’s smile firmed. “I have a small request to ask of you both. Mr. Liddell, I imagine you would be of great help here as well.” She turned to the young woman beside her. “Allow me to introduce Miss Page, our newest intern. She’ll be Professor Byleth’s assistant starting today. I would trouble you to show her around the school and guide her to the professor’s office.”

The three students shifted their attention to the woman. She didn’t look much like the neat, scholarly sort—half of her long purple hair was gathered in a messy knot, the rest flowing down her shoulders; her fringe nearly covered one eye. Along with a crisp work blouse and silk pants, she sported several piercings in one ear and sharply-winged eyeliner. Bracelet-clad arms held a MirrorPad to her chest, and she seemed occupied in surveying her surroundings. At their scrutiny, she straightened with an easy smile.

“How do you do?” she said, pulling out an earbud. “The name’s Shez.”

Chapter Text

“Greetings, Shez,” Edelgard said, taking the lead. “I am Edelgard Queen, the daughter of the Evil Queen.”

“And I am Dimitri White, son of Snow White,” said Dimitri. His features relaxed into a half-smile.

Claude tipped his hat. “And I’m Claude. Son of Alice Liddell. Pleasure to meet’cha.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” Shez said, a curious twinkle in her eye. There was an oddly knowing look about her—in how she studied them, and in the wry smile she cast Rhea and Seteth by way of farewell. Even odder, though, was that she immediately replaced her earbud and turned back to face the trio with both earphones in. “So, you three are to be my tour guides?”

Edelgard nodded. “Dimitri and I are the co-presidents of Royal Student Council.” Her words were slow, measured as if she were still unused to saying them. “And Claude here, well, he’s head of the yearbook committee.”

“I assume Headmistress Rhea understands that I have all the tea,” said Claude, holding up a steaming cup.

“I’m quite fond of tea myself,” said Shez with a merry laugh.

“Shall we get started?” Dimitri indicated the hallway ahead. “We’ve a large campus, and Professor Byleth’s office is quite a ways off.”

“Is it?” she asked as they started walking. “I imagined he lived in an igloo somewhere.”

Claude snorted, and Edelgard looked over in amusement. “Are you familiar with Professor Byleth?”

Shez flicked a long lock of purple hair over her shoulder, adjusting her hold on her MirrorPad. “Oh, we’re childhood friends. I’d like to think so, at least. Old stodge probably remembers me as the pesky little girl that used to follow him around everywhere.” She surveyed the main hall with wide eyes, taking in the stains of magic that dappled the lockers and the walls, peering up at the sun-filled skylights and the doves that flew through the highest windows.

“I didn’t catch where you were from, by the way,” Edelgard said casually.

“That’s because I never mentioned,” Shez replied, her keen gaze falling back to the others. “You’ve probably never heard of it—though, I am told the name ‘the Narrators’ would ring a bell.”

Claude’s eyebrows shot up, his only indication of surprise, and Edelgard’s eyes narrowed. Dimitri glanced at the other two, suddenly certain he’d been left out of something, and said with deliberate slowness, “No, I’m afraid it doesn’t.”

“Wait a second.” Claude gestured to his ear. “You’re wearing those because…”

“Because I can hear them too,” she said cheerfully, and pulled one earbud out. To Dimitri’s bewilderment, she glanced up and waved. “Hi, Mom.”

The Narrator ignored her blatant violation of the Rules. Claude glanced up too, squinting. “Figs and trumpets,” he exclaimed, as if he actually saw something up there, and looked back at Shez. “So you’re the one who was meant to narrate my chapters!”

“The very same.”

“Then why’d you come down here? No, how did you come down here?”

Shez’s gaze flickered in the direction Rhea had gone earlier. “Let’s just say this is the kind of story that invites participation.” Then she grinned. “Don’t worry; I won’t be allowed to interfere.”

“I’m sorry,” said Dimitri, “but what is going on?”

Edelgard crossed her arms. “What he said.”

“Well, Edelgard Queen, you already know to some extent about the voice,” said Shez, cocking her head. “You can’t hear it, of course, because you are of this world. But the Wonderlandians, and perhaps any outlander with a good pair of ears, can sometimes hear your Narrator when they’re nearby. Think of the times Caspar has said something seemingly out-of-pocket which somehow matched one of your thoughts.”

Edelgard’s face remained unreadable, but the slant of her mouth suggested a frown. “I see.”

“Dear old dad,” said Shez, resuming her walk. “He complains about Claude’s sudden appearances in his chapters day and night. Not as much as Mom does though,” and she smirked at Dimitri.

Dimitri stared at her, completely lost. “What?”

Claude grinned. “Ah, yes. I know I’m your favorite character though, Shez’s Mom.”

You are not. Now stop trying to interrupt me.

Dimitri wasn’t sure he wanted to understand, but the thought of losing out on important information that both Claude and Edelgard possessed gnawed unpleasantly at his core. “Does this happen to concern Professor Byleth?” he ventured.

Shez blinked. “Huh? Um—wait, I’m not supposed to tell you that.”

Whistling, Claude elbowed Dimitri. “Well done, roomie.”

“What did I do,” said Dimitri, growing faintly irritated now.

“You know what? Let’s not worry about all that just yet.” Shez raised her hands entreatingly. “Claude, your questions will have to go unanswered for a while longer. For now, let’s get back on track.”

That settled, Dimitri and Edelgard took over the operation, beginning a long and detailed account on every important location they passed—the Castleteria, the dormitories, the Hall of Classics. Rather than providing his own commentary, Claude lagged behind, seemingly engrossed in fiddling with his camera—at least whenever Dimitri glanced back in suspicion.

“So… Narrator…”

Child, I am trying to do my job right now. What is it this time?

“I know, I know. But wouldn’t you rather converse with me than narrate the history of the seven Jacks? I’d like to ask you something.”

…

“Please, Narrator? I promise it’s not spoiler-y. At least to my knowledge… If it is, you don’t have to tell me anything.”

Ugh, very well. Only this once.

“Tea-riffic.”

Who even says that?

“I do! Anyway, what I wanted to know is, can Ferdinand Cupid hear you as well? Since he’s not from this world, and all that. Or can only Wonderlandians do it?”

…

“You still there, Narrator?”

…

“It’s a legitimate question!”

If you really want to know, you could just ask him.

“Aw. Wait, you’re right. I’m gonna do that next time I see him.”

Of course you took that literally…

“That’s the only way I take things, Narrator. Literally, with a pinch of salt.”

I know. Now move along; I must save this scene for what it’s worth.

“Got it. Shutting up now!”

Professor Byleth’s office was located at the end of the teachers’ wing, near a tower staircase. Dimitri knocked on his door three times before turning to see the man himself stroll towards their group, frowning in puzzlement.

“Hello, Professor,” said Edelgard. Claude waved.

“Hello,” said he. “What brings… all of you to my doorstep?” His eyes narrowed slightly as they took in Shez, but they showed no sign of recognition.

As for Shez, she gazed at the professor with an irreverent smirk to rival even Claude’s. “Do you remember me, Snow Angel?”

He gave her a once-over, eyebrows raised in the closest thing to surprise Dimitri had ever seen him express. “Chatterbox..? Are you my new intern?”

“One and only,” she said proudly.

Professor Byleth looked around, nodded at his students—a sign of dismissal—and exhaled.

“Come along then,” he told Shez, opening his door. “There is much you will want to know.”

Chapter Text

“Yo, Dimitri! Hold on just a minute, would ya?”

Dimitri stopped halfway down the hall, swiveling back toward the Student Council meeting room.

“Is something wrong?” he asked as Claude trotted up to him.

His roommate held open a copy of the latest issue of the school paper, looking uncharacteristically serious. “Maybe. When were you gonna tell me you encountered a bandersnatch?”

“Pardon?” Dimitri stepped aside, nodding to a pair of Student Council members on their way out of the meeting room.

“Ashe’s Yester Day feature.” Claude jabbed a finger at the article, which was accompanied by the picture of the beast that had attacked Felix and Dimitri on Valorous Mountain. “This is a bandersnatch. A Wonderlandian creature.”

“Wonderlandian?” Dimitri stepped closer as Lorenz Hearts exited the room. “You aren’t joking?”

“Have you such little faith in me? Hey, Lorenz!” Claude lifted up the paper for him to see. “Can you tell Dimitri what—”

“Off with its head,” said Lorenz automatically, slicing clean through the paper with a pair of craft scissors (where had he gotten those?).

Claude and Dimitri gaped at him as the top half of each page fluttered to the floor.

“Yes?” Lorenz said, his voice taut. The crease between his thin eyebrows was deeper than usual.

“Well,” said Claude, slow and measured as if speaking to a wild horse, “I was just wondering if you—the expert on all things Wonderlandian, of course—could tell our non-Wonderlandian friend what sort of, er, animal this is.”

Lorenz eyed him disdainfully. “Which animal?”

“This one right… oh. You cut it off.” Claude peered down at the scraps of newspaper, lips pursed.

“He means the one we found on Valorous Mountain,” Dimitri offered.

“That’s the one,” said Claude.

“Of course, I know what that creature was. As should you,” Lorenz said with a sniff. He had put away his scissors (to where, Dimitri remained uncomfortably unaware). “It was a bandersnatch. In the Kingdom of Hearts, we would often hunt it for sport. A magnificent prize it was—it required the highest level of skill to capture. Those who dared would risk being torn to pieces by its vicious claws; few of our soldiers had the courage to even attempt it.”

“I bet,” said Claude. “Considering they were made of cardstock.”

A wistful note had entered Lorenz’s tone, and his severe expression almost softened as he continued without acknowledging Claude’s comment. “A bandersnatch head hangs on the wall of my mother’s card room. Three great soldiers lost their lives in procuring it.”

Dimitri wanted to ask the meaning of a card room in a castle populated by card soldiers, but instead he said, “I see. You must carry… fond memories of your homeland.”

Lorenz gave him an odd look, as if noticing his presence there for the first time.

“Don’t question it,” Claude muttered from the side of his mouth before smiling at Lorenz. “Thanks, old sport. Knew you’d know how to answer any question we’ve got about Wonderland. Being its future king, I mean.”

With less bite than usual, Lorenz harrumphed, said “Off with your head,” and went on his way.

Claude watched him glide off, one eyebrow arched in amusement. Then he said to Dimitri, “You know, I sometimes wonder why he pops that line like it’s bubblegum. Do you think it’s his way of expressing his emotions?”

“I have seen worse ways,” Dimitri said, and knelt down to collect the scattered papers. “Anyway, what do you think a Wonderlandian creature could be doing in our world? How can it be possible?”

Claude joined him, frowning at the picture of the bandersnatch, which had been shorn clean off at the neck. “That’s exactly what I’d like to know. Thanks,” he said as Dimitri handed him the last of the cut-up pages.

Dimitri nodded and stood. “You have a hunch, don’t you?”

Claude stood too, shoving his free hand into his dark curls. “Maybe. But it’s just based on an old story.”

“Well…” Dimitri cracked a small smile. “Fortunately, you live in the land of stories.”

“You may have a point.” Claude’s gaze drifted in the direction Lorenz had gone. “I do wonder…” He shook his head and hefted the pile of tattered pages. “I’m the son of Alice. If there’s one thing I know, it’s world-hopping. Now that you’ve got me on the case, rest assured it will be solved.” With an exaggerated wink, he turned to go.

Dimitri shook his head and reached for his pocket, only to realize his MirrorPhone wasn’t in it. He must have left it in the Student Council meeting room. With a sigh, he headed back the way he had come.

In his head, he recounted the strange interaction with Lorenz. To be fair, every interaction he’d ever had with Lorenz had been strange; if Claude was “half mad,” then the son of the Queen of Hearts was certainly more than well past off-his-throne. Still, he had a good head for sums, and he was very meticulous for a Wonderlandian—making him perfectly suited to his role as treasurer.

Dimitri opened the meeting room door and paused.

The room itself was spotless. Sunlight streamed through the open window, catching nary a dust mote on either desk or chair. Books that council members had absently pulled out to peruse before the meeting had all been returned to their proper places on the shelves. A neat stack of ungraded papers sat face-down at the end of one table, awaiting Professor Byleth’s return for whenever he remembered where he’d left them. And in the far right corner of the room, no doubt the one responsible for its flawless state, was Annette Ella.

She sat hunched over an empty desk, her head buried in her arms. Several woodland critters and a dim pixie gathered mournfully around her, at a loss for what to do; a robin nipped at the strands of amber hair that escaped her braids, as if in an effort to fix them. Annette paid them no need, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

Dimitri slowly let go of the door handle. Should he just leave? She hadn’t noticed him yet.

But… he could not simply leave her like this; she was his friend.

“Annette? Are you all right?”

Her head jerked up. “D-Dimitri?” She swiped a hand across her eyes as the animals around her chittered with concern. “Oh, you—you left your MirrorPhone in here. I was going to come find you with it, b-but—” She broke off into a hiccup. “I’m s-sorry….”

Dimitri’s heart broke a little at the way her face crumpled. “You’ve nothing to apologize for. Do you… Shall I sit with you a while?”

She scrunched her face up and started to shake her head, but then her shoulders slumped and she looked down, at the flower crown that lay flattened in her hands. “Aren’t you busy?” Her voice, though wet with tears, almost seemed to mask some other sentiment.

“Not with anything important.”

A few heartbeats passed in silence. Then she gave a tiny, barely perceptible nod.

He pulled out the chair beside hers and took a seat. He wasn’t sure what to say; so he waited for her to go first, watching a pair of chipmunks sort out a small pile of nuts and seeds before her. They chattered all the while, and at some point seemed to come to a disagreement about the placement of the single fairyberry, which drew a weak smile from Annette.

She took a deep breath and finally spoke. “Sorry, I… it’s just been kind of overwhelming these last few weeks. I have so much to do… for school, for work, and now for Student Council too. And it’s not like I don’t enjoy it! I want to do everything. But I can’t—” She wavered, blinking glassy blue eyes, then continued in a smaller voice, “I can’t stop wondering why I’m doing it.”

One of the chipmunks offered her the fairyberry. She smiled and said to it, “Thank you, truly, but I don’t think I’m very hungry right now.”

The chipmunk sighed and sat down next to the berry, exchanging worried looks with its comrades.

Annette turned back to Dimitri. “All my life, I have worked my crown off to be the perfect Cinderella, to be worthy of my happily-ever-after. But now… I don’t know if I’ll even get there, so what’s the point? I am just so… so tired.”

Dimitri searched his old friend’s face for something to say. The right words, something to comfort her, anything. But nothing he could think of was, as Ashe would say, “just right.”

Instead, a voice deep inside him, battling for release, cried out Me too. But this wasn’t about him. He shoved that voice back where it belonged and asked, “Why do you always work so hard, Annette?”

She stared up at him in confusion.

Shifting in his seat, he added in a gentler tone, “You’re the most hard-working person I know. And as much as I admire it, I have never understood where it comes from.”

“You are too,” said Annette. “Dedicated, I mean. You’re the most hard-working person I know.” She fiddled with her flower crown. “Don’t you ever get scared though? No, ‘scared’ isn’t the right word; it’s more than that. It’s more like… dread. My mom dies to advance the plot of my story. My father will remarry and leave me alone in my stepmother’s household. My prince—I don’t even know who he’ll be, or if he actually even wants me…” She trailed off, her matter-of-fact tone turning distant, as the daisies in her crown shed snowy petals on the table. Then she shook her head and looked back at him. “Before, I was so busy with life that I could force myself not to think about those things. But I can’t do that anymore.” Her bottom lips tarted to quiver again. “I’ve started questioning things too.”

Dimitri felt that worm gnawing at his core again. “I… I’m sorry, Annette. I wish I knew…” Knew how to fix things, how to save them all, how to answer her. If only he knew.

“I’m sorry, too,” she said softly. “I shouldn’t burden you with my problems. I-I’m used to handling it on my own. I’ll be right as a rain in just a bit; you’ll see.”

He shook his head. “No—Annette, please, it’s not a burden to me. Or at least it’s not one that I don’t already carry.” He huffed a dry laugh. “Of course you can’t do everything alone. I was a fool not to notice sooner; we can shift some council duties onto other members.”

“I’ll face much worse as Cinderella. I can handle it.”

“You’ll what? But why? Why push yourself so hard? What if you get sick?”

She bit her lip. “I haven’t yet. Please, Dimitri, it doesn’t feel right to just…”

Dimitri stared at her. “If you wear yourself out, you’ll make your friends even more worried.”

Annette slumped. “They should go worry about themselves,” she muttered.

“You know that’s not fair.”

“Is anything?”

He raised an eyebrow at the uncharacteristic belligerence of that last question. “Have you been spending time with Felix?”

Her face reddened. “With that Felix? Of course not! Not on purpose, anyway—he’s the one who keeps barging in on me when I’m trying to work. He’s one of those kinds of people that makes you want to work harder out of spite. He always seems to think I’m silly and frivolous, or otherwise going mad.”

Dimitri eyed her warily.

She sighed and sat back. “To answer your question, no, I would never voluntarily hang out with that villain.”

“But… Felix is a hero…”

“Whatever. Enough about him, I have work to do.” With that, she stood up, the usual spring back in her step.

“Wait, Annette,” said Dimitri, hurrying to his feet. He took a deep breath. “I can ask Hilda to take over the Apple Festival planning. And I’m sure Ferdinand and Hubert will be more than happy to take care of fundraising, for both that and Thronecoming. It won’t be any trouble at all, I swear it.”

“But…” Her shoulders started to slump again, and she dragged a finger through the fallen daisy petals on the tabletop. The chipmunks and songbirds watched in concern. “I really don’t know if that would work…”

“Well, Hilda loves party planning, and I’m quite certain this sort of thing is in Ferdinand and Hubert’s job descriptions, anyway.” He gave a brief chuckle she did not join in.

“I mean, it’s just not like me to give up so easily,” Annette said. Something like shame crossed her face. Real desperation tinged her voice, as raw as a wound on broken glass. “I already promised I’d have it all covered. You know how it is, don’t you? Cinderella doesn’t give up.”

Fairy godmothers. “Be that as it may…” A flash of memory tickled Dimitri’s mind, a thoughtful voice saying “Maybe everyone needs saving.” “You needn’t go at it alone. Cinderella never gave up, but nor did she refuse the help of others.”

It felt a little strange to say it—almost as if he were admitting defeat to something, someone deep inside him. But he found himself smiling a bit at the irony. “Please, take it from the son of Snow White.”

She softened, ever so slightly, and when Dimitri looked—really looked—into those glass-blue eyes he understood for the first time what he saw there: a perfect mirror image of himself.

Annette sniffed and grumbled, “Really, you’re one to talk.”

Dimitri couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re right. That’s why the choice is up to you—I wouldn’t want to take my advice either—just know the offer still stands.”

“Well… if you’re absolutely sure…” She returned his smile. “Maybe just this once, I can leave this one to you.”

∞

Dimitri yawned and nearly walked into an invisible tree.

Hiding a grimace, he backed away from the roots under his feet and back onto the path that wound through Ever After High’s Invisible Apple Grove. Fortunately no one seemed to have noticed—except for a pixie or two, who tittered behind their hands as they fluttered by—so consumed were they all in the activities of the busiest holiday of the year.

The last of the Wyvern Moon had slipped away with no more disasters. Ever After High now welcomed the Red Wolf Moon with the Apple Festival, the long-awaited annual celebration of Snow White’s story. From dawn to dusk, the entire school turned out into the meadows around the Invisible Apple Grove for a day of competitive apple-picking, apple-dessert-baking, and apple-themed games, while the Narrator here tires of saying the word “apple.”

Dimitri took in a deep breath to clear his head. Around him, students and faculty alike scrambled up and down ladders that leaned against apparent nothingness in a (rather slow, prolonged) race to pick the unseen fruit. Some cast spells to locate their quarry; others called on their animal friends for help. The most hands-on method was, as demonstrated by Caspar Ivory, to wave one’s arms around until they smacked into a fruit-bearing branch. Whoever picked the most apples in the end would win the top-ranked dessert in the baking contest, and with the crisp autumn breeze wafting delicious smells into the grove, that was as good a motivator as any.

“Thief! Come down from there, Hilda!” To the ordinary viewer, Lysithea Breadhouse appeared to be stomping her foot at thin air, a basket filled with (now-visible) apples swinging from one hand. “I know it was you!”

A sparkling white grin materialized above her, soon followed by the rest of Hilda Cheshire, who lay sprawled across an invisible tree bough. She gazed wide-eyed at Lysithea, tossing an apple in the air. “Who, me? What’d I do?”

“You stole straight from my basket! I saw it!”

“Caspie, mind your space,” Dorothea Mermaid said crossly, flinching away from one of his waving arms.

She leaned too far back. Dimitri—along with four other boys—instinctively lunged toward her ladder as she lost her footing with a yelp. But then there came a great whoosh of wings, and Ferdinand V.A. Cupid drifted to the ground, Dorothea safe in his arms. Several snowy feathers floated down onto the other boys, who looked up with mouths agape.

“I say!” Caspar leaned over his own ladder, eyes wide as Ferdinand set a dazed Dorothea on her feet. “Sorry about that, Dorothea. I didn’t mean to push you off!”

“Psh, it was my fault—oh.” She stumbled, saved from falling again by Ferdinand’s hand—but he removed it just as swiftly, looking away with a flash of color in his cheeks.

But Dorothea smiled at him, in a more subdued way than usual, as if his sudden rescue was a pleasant surprise. “Thanks, Ferdie. That was quite heroic of you.”

“Of course,” said Ferdinand, eyes going even wider than Caspar’s had been a moment ago. “I am glad to see you are unharmed. Only I do entreat you to exercise more caution.”

Dorothea batted her eyes at him. “Fortunately I’ll always have brave heroes like you to save me in a pinch, hmm?” Then she turned around to retrieve her basket.

“Well, we cannot always be around in times of—oh. That was sarcasm, again.” Ferdinand frowned as Dimitri joined him. “I simply do not understand mortals sometimes,” he admitted to the latter. “Why do you say things you do not mean? It is a direct path to miscommunication, the bane of all relationships.”

Dimitri gave him a sympathetic look and knelt down as Gala trotted forth from the (invisible) trees. “I cannot say I envy you.”

The son of Eros heaved a world-weary sigh. “Indeed, it is no easy task. Still, one I gladly undertake.” The same pensive frown returned to his noble features. “I only wish I could understand why she seems to hold me in particular disdain.”

Dimitri shrugged as Gala jumped up to lick his face. He’d never known the son of Eros well; as a demigod, Ferdinand seemed to hold himself to a higher standard than his mortal classmates. People often found it condescending.

So he just said, “Who can know the affairs of the mortal heart?”

Ferdinand looked at him with new appreciation. “Exactly, my friend!” Then with a gusty exhale, he turned toward the meadow, where the apple bake-off was now being set up. “Well, that question belongs to another day. Are you participating in the dessert competition?”

Dimitri stood, Gala snuggled in his arms. “As Dedue would be more than happy to tell you, the kitchen is no domain of mine, nor the oven my friend.”

“I’m sure you exaggerate!”

“I do not,” said Dimitri.

Ferdinand’s hearty chuckle rolled through the unseen wood, earning him an annoyed look from the nearby Dorothea. “So you say, but I have never seen you fail to excel at anything you set your mind to, Dimitri White!”

“You have never seen me set my mind to cooking,” said Dimitri.

“Indeed, well… I will enter, myself. I intend to attempt my Great-aunt Demeter’s honey-glazed upside-down apple cake. I was even able to acquire some nectar from Olympus to mix with the honey—it simply does not taste the same without it.”

“That sounds delicious,” said Dimitri. He followed Ferdinand into the bake-off area as the latter described in great detail the superiority of divine sustenance to mortal fare, though the latter was “certainly not without its charms.” Gala watched her surroundings, head propped against his shoulder, eyes bright with curiosity as students around them repeatedly tripped over invisible roots.

Across the meadow, Flayn Grimm commandeered the mirrorcast crew as they set up their equipment under an archway of twisting branches and flame-colored leaves. At least a dozen tables equipped with portable ovens formed a circle around the arch, each one manned by one or two apron-clad students. Ferdinand strode over to one covered in gold-striped tablecloth, where Annette stood with her ever-present clipboard in hand and Dedue’s squirrel perched on her shoulder. Gala wriggled out of Dimitri’s arms and scampered over to join them. He watched her go, satisfied to see that Annette looked more relaxed than she had in days after all the time she still spent stressing over how the rest of the Student Council decided to put together the festival without her help.

At the next table over, an apron-clad Dedue was rolling out dough, every movement practiced and precise. Annette passed him and said something that made him smile. His reply elicited a guilty-sounding laugh as she moved on to the next table, where Linhardt was dozing over an open recipe book.

“Apple pie?” Dimitri asked as he approached Dedue.

The son of the Huntsman paused to give Dimitri his usual deferential nod before answering. “Yes, a family recipe. Are you not participating, Your Highness?”

“You of all people would know it is for the common good.”

“Perhaps,” said Dedue with the slightest hint of humor in his tone. “I hope you enjoy the day off, nevertheless.”

Dimitri smiled. “I will if I can have a slice of that pie.”

“Without question.” Dedue paused from his dough-rolling. “Odd… I seem to be missing an apple.”

Dimitri recalled Hilda Cheshire’s taunting of poor Lysithea. “Maybe I can get one from the other contestants, if you need it—I insist, Dedue. It’s no trouble at all.”

“Thank you, Your Highness. Take your time.”

Across the meadow, Edelgard pulled a tray of piping-hot muffins out of the oven and set it on her table. Dimitri approached, drawn by the scent of spiced baked apple.

“Any chance that’s poisoned?” he asked.

“You want to die by muffin? You’re getting desperate.” Edelgard poked a wand-shaped toothpick into one of her muffins, which were topped with cinnamon-powdered crumble. “Here, try one for me.”

As if summoned by those words, Claude popped up next to Dimitri. “Did someone say taste-test?”

Somewhere behind him, Lorenz was bellowing about the sudden disappearance of his apple rose tarts. Both Edelgard and Dimitri looked at Claude, who looked back at them as innocently as possible—which for Claude Liddell was not very possible.

Edelgard shook her head with what had recently started to look less like annoyance and more what a bolder soul might call affection. “Help yourself.”

“Excellent, just let me make sure Lysithea isn’t watching. Huh—she’s not here?” He glanced around, one eyebrow raised.

“Oh, she’s coming.” Edelgard nibbled a piece of leftover crumble and made a face. “She’s designed a new strategy this year: pick the most apples and win the baking contest. That way she can eat her own dessert.”

Claude guffawed. “How incredibly like her.” He picked the biggest muffin and blew on it, said “Cheers,” and took a big bite, spraying crumbs everywhere.

More carefully, Dimitri bit into his own muffin, delighted by the array of spices he sensed. Was that actual sweetness on his tongue? He took another bite, surprised that he was actually able to taste the other flavors besides the apple.

Claude, on the other hand, froze for a split second after devouring half his muffin in one go. Then he cleared his throat and said in a remarkably less enthusiastic voice than before, “You know what this would go perfectly with? Just a spot of tea. Be right back.” He vanished.

“Huh,” said Edelgard with a frown. “If he doesn’t like them, he could just tell me.”

Dimitri shrugged, happy to polish off his own muffin. Perhaps Claude wasn’t a cinnamon person.

An hour or so later, Flayn Grimm started to announce the judging of the desserts. Dimitri joined Annette on the sidelines as the judges made their way around the bakers’ tables.

“What do you think?” he asked.

Annette tapped one glass-heeled foot on the ground. For once there was no evidence of dark circles under her eyes. “I’m taking it easy, as you suggested.”

Felix, who was standing on Dimitri’s other side, glanced over at her with a frown. “Not judging today?”

She scowled at him. “Not competing today?”

Across the meadow, the judges had just moved on from Dedue’s table. A panicked scene was there to greet them at Lorenz’s. The latter gesticulated with restrained vigor at the lightly-floured tabletop before him, his voice carrying easily through the air:

“All my tarts have vanished without a TRACE!”

Somewhere nearby, Claude muttered, “I told him to make something else.”

“Oh, poor Lorenz,” said Annette. “He worked really hard on those tarts. And they were so beautiful!”

Even from this distance, Dimitri could see that Lorenz was doing his best not to completely lose his top and start screaming for heads to roll. He made a mental note to have Yuri check for the culprit on the mirrorcams later.

At Ferdinand’s table, the leader of the judges—Ashe, notorious for his Goldilocks-inherited nitpickiness—was lifting a forkful of Olympian-honey-glazed upside-down cake to his lips when his fellow judge, Petra, stopped him with a wary glance at Ferdinand. Then she all but snatched Raphael’s plate away from him before he too could partake.

“I think I should be tasting it first,” she said, and proceeded to do so. Then she looked at Ferdinand and said, “It is very good, but are you sure you did not… what is the word… poison it?”

Ferdinand’s jaw dropped. “Poison it? Me?”

Ashe inspected his own slice of cake. “You think he accidentally spiked it with a love potion?”

“But that is ludicrous,” exclaimed Ferdinand, his wings flaring. “How could I have accidentally imbued my own cake with a love spell?!”

Raphael picked up a heart-shaped jar of pink glass next to the salt shaker on the table. “It’s labeled, ‘Ferdie’s secret ingredient—lots of love, Aphrodite’.”

“But my secret ingredient is nectar from Olympus!”

“With ‘lots of love’ from your grandmother,” Petra said dryly before moving on.

The next incident occurred at the last contestant’s table. Dimitri and Claude both wandered over to wait with Edelgard as the judges tasted her muffins.

“You would be immune to it,” Claude said to Dimitri as Ashe nearly choked on his muffin, which led Raphael to pound him heartily on the back, which led the former to topple onto the grass, still coughing on hands and knees.

“Immune to what?” Dimitri said, horrified by the implication that Edelgard had actually poisoned the apples. For her part, she was on the ground frantically trying to give Ashe a glass of water, which he adamantly refused.

Petra remained unruffled, only noting “Too much sugar” before turning back to the mirrorcams. “It is time to be announcing the winners.”

In the end, as everyone expected, Lysithea Breadhouse won back her own cheesecake-stuffed baked apples. Dedue’s classic apple pie secured second place. He made sure to give Dimitri an extra-big slice.

And on the topic of the missing tarts…

“I swear it wasn’t me,” Claude protested when all the Wonderlandians looked at him. “Guys, don’t you realize we’re being set up? This is exactly how it played out with our parents!—upon my heart, of which I have only one, I didn’t steal them! Where do you think I could have hidden them, my hat??”

Chapter Text

The rest of Red Wolf Moon passed in a blur. It was that time of the semester when Edelgard had little time to think outside of classes and homework and the occasional Royal Student Council debate with Dimitri. Midterms passed without a hitch, and then the Ethereal Moon rose—bringing with it the biggest holiday of Fódlan’s calendar.

“Heritage Hall only appears once a year, spelled to vanish when the clock strikes midnight on Thronecoming Eve.” Seteth Grimm’s voice droned through the woods, somehow audible above the footsteps of the entire Legacy Year class, the fervent whispers of Flayn’s mirrorcast crew, and the miscellaneous noises made by numerous animal companions. He walked alongside Headmistress Grimm at the front of the group, leading them up a small hill. “It is a monument to the history of Ever After.”

Next to Edelgard, Claude muttered, “What isn’t?”

She snorted. Headmistress Grimm’s frosty gaze flickered to her.

“Fortunately, it is open for your perusal one full week before then.” Seteth turned as he crested the summit of the hill, sweeping one arm out behind him. The sun, having just reached its zenith, obscured his visage for a moment, and then—

Gasps rose from the students. Edelgard’s mouth parted in awe as the veil of sunlight slipped away to reveal a shining palace of rose-gold stone.

A camera shutter clicked beside her. She started and glared as Claude laughed.

“No animals inside!” Seteth clapped his hands for attention. “Please enter in an orderly fashion. This building is large, but only one of its halls will manifest each year. It always gets a bit crowded in there.”

With the Grimms in the lead, the students sans pets filed through the open doorway. An ethereal calm washed over Edelgard when she stepped onto the polished marble floor. The air was sharp and clean, bearing the slight, crystalline glimmer of fairy magic.

A massive hall the size of her home castle’s throne room stretched out before them, lined on both sides by numerous pillars of uniform shape and pattern. Individual pedestals filled the alcoves between them, each holding an elaborately designed wooden chest. Frescoes in hues of rose-toned colors adorned the walls, the figures they portrayed all pointing toward the dais at the end of the hall.

A throne-sized, leather-bound book with gilt edges was chained to the dais, locked shut. There was no title on its cover, only a strange blue oval that resembled the blank surface of a mirror.

“Thronecoming is a tradition as old as time,” said Seteth, his voice ringing through the great hall. “Some say it is the most ancient holiday of our world. Indeed it predates even the Princesses’ Days. As you all know, Ever After High was founded on that day nearly a thousand years ago—indeed, in two years’ time it will have been exactly one millennium since then.” He gestured to the walls. “In keeping with tradition, of course, your parents—the Class of Classics—have prepared special Thronecoming gifts for you. The boxes here are a keepsake as well, by the way, hand-carved by the esteemed Master Geppetto himself.”

He stepped aside, and the students poured into the hall, their voices rising in excitement as each rushed to find their own alcove. Edelgard took a closer look at the frescoes and realized they were depictions of their parents, drawn in a dreamy style marked by soft shadows and brisk lines.

“Did he say your grandfather made these?” From beneath a painting whose various shades of pink and brown seemed to do an injustice to the iconic hair of its subject, Ashe Lockes examined the box on his pedestal. “The handiwork is incredible!”

At the next alcove, Petra straightened with a pleased smile. “Indeed, I am having great pride. He is the best wood-worker in Ever After.”

Edelgard found the alcove painted with the Evil Queen’s image and slowed. Part of her had doubted she would actually find Her here at all. Even in the highly-stylized artwork She was unmistakably beautiful. The lines of her profile, the sweep of her lashes, and the spikes that encircled her neck were no more softened by the rosy colors. Edelgard gazed up at her, feeling nine years old again, just like she had been the last Thronecoming they’d spent together.

A pang of homesickness struck her. Not for the cold, empty Queen Castle that was her “home” now—but for a version of it when She was still there. Camelot-cakes, silver banners, and jousting tournaments in the Withering Fields behind the castle—that had been Thronecoming to her once. At night her mother would tell her the tales of swords in stones and powerful fairy-witches and darkness that devoured a kingdom once full of light, no gruesome details spared.

“A villain who sows destruction is the villain that wins in The End,” she would say, stroking Edelgard’s whitening hair.

She’d always preferred her father’s version of those stories.

The scent of the headmistress’s perfume snapped Edelgard out of her reminiscence. Rhea passed by, her kind smile tightening around her eyes, but she said nothing. It was just as well. Edelgard was ninety-percent sure it was that woman who had taken the biggest family holiday from her students so they could spent it in the destiny-bound safety of school.

Even if it was only Edelgard and the Good King at home these days, that would be infinitely preferable to this. The other students, however, seemed to think otherwise.

“A brand-new radio!” Dorothea held a huge pink sea conch to one ear. “I was hoping for a new Hans Christian Andersen bag, but with this I can keep up with all my favorite underwater music shows!”

“Stay up-to-date on the news too,” said the ever-sensible Ingrid O’Hair. Her smile slackened when she opened her box. “A hairbrush? But… I already have like a million of—oh?” She gasped as the hairbrush jumped into the air and began brushing her long, flowing locks. “This is going to save me so much time every day!”

“My dad sent me a new watch that can track time forwards, backwards, and sideways,” said Ignatz Blanc, studying the bunny-shaped device on his wrist. “What did you get, Lorenz?”

“A set of paints,” he replied blandly.

They eyed each other’s gifts.

Edelgard wondered if either of them felt as out-of-place as she did, being Wonderlandians with parents locked far away behind a sealed portal. Wonderlandians probably didn’t even celebrate Thronecoming, which would explain their lack of enthusiasm about the gifts. But Ignatz always shied from her curious glances and Lorenz only sniffed and turned away.

Caspar, for his part, was bellowing with glee over a chess set with-animated pieces. Next to him, Linhardt was puzzling over a scrapbook.

“Well, this is kind of depressing,” he pronounced as he lifted his eyes and met Edelgard’s across the hall. “Hey, what did you get?”

A flash of self-consciousness rolled through her at being caught watching. “Oh, well, I haven’t checked yet.” She placed a hand on the ebony chest on her pedestal and noticed, for the first time, the detail in the red-painted engravings that adorned it. A teardrop-shaped ruby in the center seemed to indicate how to open it.

Shuffling footsteps preceded Linhardt’s presence at her shoulder. “Is it a forbidden spell? Maybe a rare grimoire?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Edelgard pressed on the red jewel, and the lid clicked open.

“You wouldn’t?” Linhardt stifled a yawn. “But it’s gotta be something related to your destiny, if Rhea let Her…” He frowned. “Wait, but isn’t the Evil Queen…”

“Dead?”

The word cut the awkwardness from Linhardt’s posture. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“No, it’s fine.” Of course, the fact that She was still alive didn’t much ease the sting. “Anyway, take your pick. Did my mother have time to pick out a gift for me all those years ago, do you think? Or did Headmistress Rhea find me a suitable replacement?”

Linhardt’s mouth screwed to the side. “Er, well, I guess she wouldn’t want anyone to feel left out.”

Edelgard laughed dryly and reached into the box. Her fingers closed around something long, slender, and cold as ice.

“A wand?” Linhardt’s eyebrows arched above his crownglasses.

She held it against her palm. Light from the skylights turned the wand translucent. The coldness it radiated must come from shadow smelting, an old-fashioned technique found only in heirloom wands. Crimson veined its black body, giving it a bloody tint.

“Oh, to have been born with magic,” Linhardt lamented. “That’s an exquisite model.”

“It is authentic, too,” said Petra, startling them both. She was wearing a pair of sleek cat-eye glasses, the lenses tinted with a magical pink sheen. “These glasses are a gift from my father,” she explained. “Just like me, they cannot tell a lie.”

Linhardt reassessed his scrapbook. “Why did I get this?”

“It’s a very thoughtful gift.” Edelgard raised an eyebrow at him. “Your mom only had to sleep for a few years before my mom changed things, but imagine how she must’ve spent her life before it trying to prepare.”

Linhardt didn’t answer at once. Edelgard almost wondered if she’d struck a nerve, but then he sighed and shifted his gaze elsewhere. “Believe me, I can.”

How he spoke of it so casually Edelgard had never understood. Did he even care about being a Rebel, or was he just in it to see what could happen?

As if he sensed her renewing interest, Linhardt twitched in the direction of Caspar, who was now ooh-ing and aah-ing over Raphael Galigantus’s golden goose egg. “I think I left my box behind,” he said, and slipped away.

Petra turned back to Edelgard. “He is not very good with feelings.”

“Not something I’d associate with Linhardt, no.” Edelgard smiled, but something like anxiety tugged at her insides. If only she could be as indifferent as Linhardt somehow managed to be. It almost made one want to worry in his stead.

“Your wand has a false bottom,” Petra said.

Edelgard blinked. “What?”

Gesturing to her new glasses, Petra nodded. “It is an authentic Afanasyev heirloom wand, but with a…” She paused, frowning.

“A secret compartment?” Edelgard ran her fingers down the wand. There was a slight indentation on one side, just the right shape for the tip of her index finger. She pressed on it, and the bottom of the wand loosened.

They exchanged looks.

Then Edelgard tightened the bottom of the wand, glancing across the hall at the headmistress. “Not now. Come to my room after lunch—let’s take a look together.”

Petra nodded and looked away. “What is that you have gotten, Bernadetta?”

Flushing, Bernadetta held up a beautiful woven basket with a red and purple cover. “It’s a magic-powered basket with an automatic lock. When I press this button—oh! A drumstick!” She frowned at the fried chicken leg now in her hand.

“Better eat it before Seteth sees it,” Edelgard said, only half-joking.

“Or you can give it to me,” said Caspar, appearing next to Bernadetta with a suddenness that would put the Cheshire Cat out of business.

Edelgard shook her head and left Bernadetta to fend for herself. She had noticed a certain someone behaving more quietly than usual, standing alone beneath the most romantic fresco in the hall. Without a second thought, she made her way over.

“Not to your liking?” Edelgard asked a subdued Ferdinand.

He drew himself upright at once, with a pronounced snap of his wings. “Not at all! It is a very suitable gift considering my destiny. I shall be making much use of it.”

They both looked at the bundle of arrows in his hands. Edelgard could sense they had been reinforced with magic.

“It is only that sometimes I think…” He paused, brow furrowed.

“Do you?”

He huffed. “I mean that sometimes I doubt—no, even that is too strong a word. I do not doubt my destiny! But…” Again he failed to complete a sentence.

If she were Claude, she’d take the opportunity to needle him about his sudden lack of eloquence, but she wasn’t Claude. Perish the thought. (Across the hall, Claude snickered inexplicably.)

“You’re not one for forcing it on others.” She gestured to the arrows. “You would never compel someone to fall in love, because there is no true love without choice.”

His expression did not really change, but something about it turned sad. “I have always thought differently from my father and grandmother in that regard… Perhaps it is the influence of my mother, the mortal blood in me. Alas, as much as I excel in archery, arrows only lead to breaking hearts—never to mending them.”

Begrudging respect rose within Edelgard for this bold statement, but she could only bring herself to say: “I always knew you were a rebel at heart.”

“I would only dare to be whatever is noblest!”

“As you have graciously reminded me on so many occasions. Ah, Dimitri and Claude, I was wondering when you would show up.”

Claude threw her a two-fingered salute. Dimitri asked, “What did you two get?”

“Enchanted arrows.”

“A bone rat.”

Ferdinand looked at her in horror as Claude chortled.

“What about you?” Edelgard deadpanned. “A new crown? Or a hat, for Claude?” Then she took notice of what Dimitri was holding. “Is that… a witch’s broomstick?”

“Oh, this?” Dimitri held up what was most definitely a broom. “No, it—I think it is supposed to transform into a lance when you tap it, like so…” He slammed the broom against the floor, and instead of splintering into pieces as the noise it made would suggest, it flared with magic and became a plain but sturdy lance.

Edelgard and Ferdinand gazed at it wordlessly while Claude declared with relish, “I got an encyclopedia.”

“Of Fódlan?” Edelgard said, puzzled.

“No, of Wonderland. It’s in Riddlish, too, which is great for improving my reading comprehension skills.” He beamed.

“Why would you need an encyclopedia on your own homeland?”

“Hey, even I don’t know why a raven’s like a writing desk.” But his smile seemed to dim a little.

“Be sure to make good use of it,” said Lorenz, passing by with a haughty sniff.

Claude rolled his eyes to the ceiling. Ferdinand excused himself to chase after Lorenz, leaving the three of them to their own devices.

“We really are becoming quite the trio,” Claude remarked, breaking the momentary silence. “I vote we start calling ourselves the Three Musketeers.”

Dimitri sighed. “What in Ever After are you talking about, Claude?”

“Does Fódlan not have musketeers? Well, where my mother comes from—”

“Students!” Seteth’s voice cut short his explanation. “Please direct your attention to the end of this hall.”

Headmistress Rhea stood by the giant book on the dais, her serene smile in place. “Mr. Beauty here just asked a very good question. Would you care to repeat it to the class?”

Linhardt looked as if he would really rather not, but he mumbled anyway, “What’s inside the giant book?” which as far as questions went was pretty elementary if you asked Edelgard. Beside her, Claude chuckled.

Curses, she’d forgotten he could hear some of her thoughts.

“This book contains deep and powerful magic associated with the founding days of Fódlan.” Rhea’s gaze swept through her audience. “As you all know, Thronecoming is a celebration of that era. It is said that hidden deep inside this book are relics of the heroes that once saved our world from terrible evil—yes, even in the days before it was called Ever After. But the truth of that story is now lost… and not even their names remain.” Her ice-green eyes finally found Edelgard’s. “For such is the fate of those who lose their way.”

Edelgard lifted her chin and stared right back at her.

Rhea smiled and turned back to Seteth. “Well, I believe that concludes today’s field trip. It’s about time we headed back.”

And Edelgard felt, somehow, that she had lost.

∞

Bernadetta beat Edelgard back to their room, so Edelgard sent Petra a quick hext for a change of plans. Not that she didn’t trust Bernadetta, of course—there was probably no one at Ever After High better-suited to keeping secrets—but the girl was already knotted up with anxiety over the upcoming bookball game.

PETRA WOOD: How about my room? Leonie is out to go skydiving.

EDELGARD: Okay, I’ll be there in a few. Thx

PETRA: <3

“What do we do?” Bernadetta cried, startling Edelgard into tripping over her black bunny slippers. “Our school is going up against Beanstalk High. And they’re the giants of bookball—literally!”

“Raphael’s the son of giants. Isn’t he on the team?”

“But the rest of us are like ants to them. Ants!! Th-they’ll crush us under their feet!” She shuddered.

Edelgard slung her bag over her shoulder. “Who’s ‘us’? Have you joined the bookball team?”

“Um, n-no, not yet… Not really, at least… I mean, Felix asked once or twice, and I sorta sneaked into practice a couple times, but it’s not like I’m formally a part of the team or anything—plus there are like so many people I don’t know and I don’t want to intrude or anything—”

Edelgard paused on her way out the door. “But if the captain asked you to join, that’s got to mean something. Besides, everyone knows it’s nearly impossible to impress Felix Charming. Don’t let anything stop you if you want to try something new.”

Petra’s room was only two doors down from Edelgard’s. She opened the door, her new glasses perched atop her head, and ushered Edelgard inside. Her side of the room was furnished with animal rugs, wooden dressers, and a huge collection of carved animal figurines—songbirds on the windowsill, a hawk on her fairy lamp, an entire stag head hanging on one wall. Nestled among the furs on her bed was a gigantic, very huggable-looking stuffed owl.

Plopping herself down on her bed, Petra pulled on her glasses. “Are you okay with telling me about what you might be finding? If someone asks me, I cannot lie.”

“Yes, but neither can fairies, and like them, I know you’re cleverer than that.” Edelgard unclasped her bag.

“Hubert can’t lie?”

“As far as I know. But I’ve never asked him directly.”

“Well,” said Petra, her eyes gleaming, “I am very fond of a challenge.”

Edelgard pulled out her wand. “And I trust you. Come on, let’s take a look.” She joined Petra on the bed, wand clasped gingerly in her hands. To her relief, the bottom loosened as before, and she twisted it off.

A long, thin roll of vellum paper slipped out of the hollow.

Breath hitching, Edelgard unrolled the paper. It was a square barely the size of her hand, filled with text that looked quill-printed. She read the words aloud:

“A hound brays on apple islands,

at dawn when all the birds are singing—

to bring the fair one back from foreign lands

with hooves a-thunder and bells a-ringing.”

She set the note down.

“What does it mean?” said Petra blankly.

Edelgard sighed. “Hex if I know. It could be Riddlish for all I understand of it.”

“Perhaps it is a riddle then?”

“Perhaps.” Edelgard wasn’t sure what she’d expected. She hadn’t even known that she’d receive a Thronecoming gift at all. The way Rhea had smiled at her at Heritage Hall…

And the words in the note. Apple, roses, fair one. Were they referencing a fairytale? Multiple fairytales? If Rhea had planted it, then could it have any connection to Thronecoming? She needed to discuss this with Hubert.

“We could request for Caspar’s assistance.” Petra tapped her lip in thought. “Or perhaps Claude is better. He is good at riddles, no?”

“Unfortunately.” The idea of asking help from Claude Liddell made her want to jump into a cauldron. But surely Hubert would have some answers first. Hex, even Linhardt might know something.

The next week was filled with Thronecoming preparations. Ever After High took the holiday seriously—professors handed out small gifts in class (except for Rumpelstiltskin, who gave a pop quiz instead), students flooded the Village of Book End in search of the perfect outfits for the Ball, and the newspaper and mirrorcast were all over Beanstalk High, the rival school for the bookball game. As it turned out, Hubert did not have answers regarding the note found in Edelgard’s wand, which they discussed in between his battles with Ferdinand over the Thronecoming Ball budget.

On the morning of Thronecoming Eve, she joined the rest of Ever After High at the castle terrace, well and fully tired of the whole ordeal. Still, it didn’t escape her notice that the holiday spirit seemed to have an effect on those around her: Bernadetta stood close to Yuri at the edge of the crowd; Linhardt was wide awake and focused on the pedestal where the headmistress would open the festivities; beside her, Ferdinand and Hubert managed to hold a cordial conversation unrelated to the Royal Student Council treasury.

Rhea stepped up to the pedestal, a book in her hands, and deja vu flashed through Edelgard. Had it already been two months since she’d stood in the very same spot, holding up her page in that very same book for the world to see?

Had anything changed at all since then?

As the crowd fell quiet and Rhea began her speech, the unease inside Edelgard expanded into a gnawing hunger. Something was hiding behind those benevolent green eyes. Something that just might have to do with the foundations of Ever After itself.

She needed to know what.

Rhea raised the Storybook of Legends, spoke of its great magic, the safety of keeping its Rules. “As our ancestors would desire,” she said. “As we have unswervingly done for so many generations. So too will we continue, preserving their stories until—as the saying goes—the coming of the throne.”

People clapped at her words, murmuring their assent, but Edelgard didn’t notice. Her attention alone had been captured by the stealthy figure making its way up to join her at the front row.

“Petra?” she whispered as the headmistress continued her speech, seemingly unaware of the disturbance.

Behind the lenses of her truth-revealing glasses, Petra’s eyes were big. “It is not real.”

“What isn’t?”

“The book,” said Petra. “The one she is holding—that is not the real Storybook of Legends.”

Chapter Text

Seeing what they were up against, Dimitri was very glad he was not on the Ever After High bookball team.

“Morning, Narrator!”

Beanstalk High’s bookball team was indeed as intimidating as the mirrorcast coverage had described. Even in his giant form, Raphael was still smaller than any of their members. Dimitri wasn’t as into bookball as some of his friends, but he was pretty sure the giants had what was called an unfair advantage.

“Gah. Ignoring me, are we? What, are you a sports commentator now?”

“Do sit still while you’re next to me, Liddell. Not everyone can withstand your crazed mutterings.”

“Oh! Lorenz—just the man I need. Are you aware of a voice called the Narrator? I’m trying to get her attention right now, but she seems to be avoiding me for some reason. Can’t imagine why. If we both call for her—”

“You assume I would be interested in your pointless games?”

“Oh, so you are able to hear the Narrators?”

“What do you take me for, a common peasant? Of course I can hear the Narrators! Frankly it irks me that you behave as if you know nothing about them! Then again, what else would one expect from the son of Alice!”

“Whoa, don’t bring my mother into this, head-chopper. Not my fault she had to go through with her destiny, you know! Maybe next time we should avoid the baseless accusations.”

“‘Baseless accusations’ is my destiny, you little—”

“Wait. Did you notice that? The Narrator stopped talking! We got her attention!”

Darn it. Where was I again? Dimitri—uh, where is Dimitri—

“Hahaha, I got you now, Narrator. This is my good buddy Lorenz, the son of the King of Hearts. Which you probably already know. Say hello, Lorenz.”

“For the last time—”

Claude, do you need something?

“Glad you asked! Actually, I was wondering how you switch POVs. Or rather… could you?

Switch POVs? You mean like we do with Dimitri and Edelgard?

“Are there any other people you can narrate? Since I’m obviously out of the picture.”

Why do you ask that?

“Listen, I’m sorry for interrupting you in the middle of a chapter, but I have some weird suspicions and I feel like no one else knows enough about this side of our world. I’d ask Shez, but Professor Byleth always has her out on business. And Edelgard’s chapters are always too distracting.”

While I appreciate your interest in the Narrators’ job, there isn’t much I can tell you. That’s against the Rules.

“Not that again… ‘Rules’ with a capital R. Who came up with them anyway?”

I can’t answer that.

“So much for the easy way out. How does one become a Narrator, anyway? Do you guys have like a Narrator School or something?”

“Your knowledge of Narrators is alarmingly pitiful, Liddell. Haven’t you heard of the Narrators’ Oath?”

Well—

“How do you even know so much about this, Lorenz? Don’t tell me the Narrators are from Wonderland!”

I mean—

“It is but one of the ruler of Wonderland’s many duties to know this sort of information. It doesn’t make sense, after all. The people of Fódlan would certainly not understand it.”

“True, for such a whimsical land Fódlan’s people are surprisingly sane.”

“Indeed, to think they cannot even track something as simple as the Well of Wonder!”

“Wait. You can track the Well of Wonder?”

“What do you take me for?”

“A brilliant man, and the most wondrous person to ever exist. You can’t mean to say that not all portals to Wonderland are closed?”

“All portals to Wonderland are closed. The Well of Wonder is a well. But it appears extremely sporadically, and it is not the sort of well humans can safely jump into.”

“Ah. Gotcha. Yeah, that tracks. Say… ya think you could show me where it is?”

“Not a chance.”

“Well, it was worth a shot.”

"Hmph. Are you finished yet? The game is starting."

Chapter Text

“Did you know that all giants are ticklish?” Felix sat with his right leg straight, his chin on one hand as he gazed into the sports arena. “They are particularly susceptible on the inside of their big toes.”

Dimitri turned his head a full ninety degrees to stare at his companion.

“Which is why,” the latter continued, never taking his eyes off the field where the bookball team was finishing their warm-ups, “each of the Beanstalk High team members wears a toe guard to prevent exploitation of this weakness during games.” He scoffed. “Fools that we were, we didn’t see it coming.”

It was overcast at Ever After High—it hadn’t been that morning during Headmistress Rhea’s speech, but since the arrival of the giants, the skies had filled with clouds. Coach Gingerbreadman had gathered the team in a huddle. He looked nervous—but not as nervous as the team members themselves, who were already sweating while their opponents thundered around the other end of the field. Dimitri didn’t blame them; even from his seat on the bleachers, he couldn’t see the top of the giants’ heads.

“They had better not embarrass us,” Felix muttered darkly. He radiated restless energy today. An accident with some cats in a tree during Hero Training earlier that week had put him out of commission, which had, of course, only increased the stakes in this game for the entire school. Dimitri would not soon forget the sound of Felix’s crutches thumping through the dorms as he tried to evade Flayn Grimm’s obligatory mirrorcast interview. (She’d still caught him in the end.)

Nor would he forget what he himself was supposed to be doing, in spite of the Thronecoming festivities. Earlier that day, Headmistress Rhea had called him to her office.

“Be at ease; nothing is amiss,” she’d assured him when he had entered, shoulders tense with trepidation. “But that is exactly why I would like to speak with you. I only have a small favor to ask.”

Dimitri found he had started having trouble meeting those green eyes, ever since Legacy Day. Before Edelgard had refused to sign, he’d never seen the headmistress angry. Even now every time he looked at her composed, smiling face, all he could think about was the wrath in her eyes that day.

But he knew, better than anyone, that anger more often than not masked something else. He couldn’t help but feel that had to be the case for the headmistress.

“Please keep an eye on Edelgard Queen,” she said. “Thronecoming is one of our most important holidays… We cannot let something happen on so meaningful a day.”

“As you wish, Headmistress,” Dimitri had replied. “But may I ask why you think something will happen?”

A faraway look came into her eye; she glanced at the painting on the wall. “You may call it intuition, or you may call it paranoia. But I have never been able to rest easy on Thronecoming. After all, it was on that same day, a thousand years ago, that something did happen.” Turning back to him, her smile faded. “Still, be sure to enjoy yourself, Mr. White. I only ask that you…” She paused. “That you do not forget the way things were supposed to be.”

“Are,” he said.

“Beg pardon?”

“The way things are supposed to be,” he said. “Not were.”

The smile, tinged with sadness, returned to her lips. “Yes, of course. That is what I meant.”

Before he left, he paused by the wall. “If I may ask, Headmistress, who is this woman in the painting?”

She blinked in surprise. “Ah. She is someone who was very dear to me. Whom I lost long ago, but…” There came that distant look again. “As the legends say, one day at the coming of a throne, those who were lost… may be restored to us once more.”

Headmistress Rhea, for all her wisdom and grace, could sometimes be a very strange woman. Or perhaps those three things were well intertwined.

At present, he had already noted both Edelgard and Claude’s locations around the bookball arena. Edelgard was on her phone, typing something, while her friends leaned down to cheer for their team. Claude, on the other hand, appeared fully engaged in gossiping (or something) with Lorenz Hearts.

“Their center forward’s foot is twice Caspar’s size,” Ingrid said from Felix’s other side. Today her golden hair was tied in hoops with plain ribbons to keep from dragging on the ground.

Felix snorted. “We have Hilda.”

That was true, but the daughter of the Cheshire cat was notoriously hard to get onto the field on even a normal day—and they were up against giants.

“I guess there’s also Leonie. She’s destined to defeat a giant, after all.”

“The power of destiny isn’t going to win us a game, Boar.” Felix leaned forward, his gaze sharp.

Dimitri raised an eyebrow. “But…?”

“But I suppose we’ll just have to see if our madhouse arsenal of random weapons can take out a couple giants.”

Bookball was a game with many variables. Though it was its simplest focused around controlling the ball with one’s feet, the rules allowed for all sorts of variations: invisible players, flying wingbacks, even shapeshifters. It could get confusing. Dimitri was more of a basket-ball person; he’d rather take his chances with the wolves.

As he observed Ever After High’s team lineup, he noted, not for the first time, the even mix between Royals and Rebels in their ranks. The last few months had heightened his sensitivity to that sort of thing. Sure, in Grimmnastics class students always divided themselves into teams of royals versus commoners, but in actual sports Coach Gingerbreadman and his athletes didn’t care about your character archetype. Perhaps that was another reason why Felix liked sports so much.

Of course, one didn’t see many villain kids in sports teams at Ever After High, but that was because of the stigma against “playing dirty” than anything else. But Yuri Badwolf was track-and-shield’s fastest sprinter, and using his Wolf form didn’t count as cheating. Technically. And, well, most princesses didn’t participate in sports; Ingrid was the most skilled jouster Dimitri knew, but even she had never broken that rule.

Scarce had the whistle blown when the ball sailed past Raphael’s head, slamming into the net with such force that Dimitri—along with everyone else in the bleachers—winced.

“Oh, curses,” said Ingrid. “Way to start on the wrong slipper.”

Thunderous cheers rained down from the heavens. Felix scowled.

“Their left is open,” said Ingrid. “Wait—or is that their center…? I can’t make crowns or tails of their formation—oh, good one, Sylvain!” Then she sighed when the ball bounced off a giant’s sweeping leg. Sylvain poofed into frog form and dodged just in time.

“This is like Hero Training, but public,” said Dimitri.

“Please tell me you guys have a backup plan,” Ingrid groaned, barely audible over the cheers that followed yet another score for the giants.

Coach Gingerbreadman called one of the defenders to the bench, and Felix leaned forward.

“About time,” he muttered.

But Dimitri had caught sight of something more intriguing.

Edelgard Queen was hurrying out of the bleachers, Petra Wood in tow. Most people’s attention was fixed upon the commotion below. Even Claude was staring down at Bernadetta Hood as she emerged onto the field.

Wait—Bernadetta? “Felix, when did you recruit…”

But Felix was no longer watching the field. “She’s up to something,” he said, his gaze now following Edelgard out of the arena.

“Perhaps it isn’t important,” said Dimitri hopefully. Then he sighed. “It’s something important, isn’t it.”

“What was that the headmistress told you about keeping an eye out for trouble during Thronecoming?”

“I’m sure it was just a precaution—and it shouldn’t warrant sneaking around after—”

“Suit yourself,” said Felix as he grabbed his crutches, “but I for one am tired of sitting.”

∞

“What are you doing here?”

Inside Heritage Hall, Dimitri stood awkwardly next to Felix, who was discreetly trying to catch his breath after having speed-walked on crutches from the sports center to the Enchanted Forest. He was doing a rather poor job of hiding it, but Dimitri pretended not to notice in the interest of self-preservation.

In answer to the question posed by a disgruntled Edelgard, he retorted, “I could ask the same of you.”

“You followed us here.”

“Felix wished to stretch his legs,” Dimitri replied truthfully.

Edelgard’s gaze moved into the wings. “And I suppose you were also in need of some exercise, Claude?”

With a guilty chuckle, Dimitri’s roommate stepped out of an empty alcove, followed by a cross-looking Lorenz Hearts.

“Can’t blame a Liddell for being curious, Princess,” said the former. “Hello to you too, Petra. What were you two up to?”

Petra glared at him. “We were planning to investigate the book.”

Before Dimitri could chide Claude for misusing Petra’s curse, Ferdinand Cupid appeared over the top of the huge tome on the dais, his wings idly brushing its corners. “You mean this old thing? I was quite curious about it myself! But I see no way to open it.”

“It’s just an Aarne-Thompson type 1525A, pretty easy actually,” said Ashe Lockes, strolling forward to place a hand on the book. The lock fell away.

Edelgard stared at him. “Did everyone and their fairy godmother follow us here?”

“Um… I didn’t intend to follow anyone…”

Dimitri turned toward that familiar voice. “Marianne?”

“Marianne?” repeated Ashe with a little start. A blush colored his freckled cheeks when she glanced at him.

A sour-apple feeling bit into Dimitri’s core. Further investigation as to its origin halted when Felix said, “Well, what are we standing around for? Are we going into the book or not?” He started swinging toward the dais.

Dimitri snapped out of it and hurried after him. “Felix, wait! Shouldn’t we discuss this first?”

Clearing his throat, Ashe stepped in front of the unlocked book. “I don’t know about you, Felix, but I’ve got a lot of questions for the others!”

“Gathering intel for your next big article, I presume?” Still, Felix stopped. Leaning on one crutch, he spun around. “I don’t have time for this.”

“You were the one who chose to skip the game,” Dimitri pointed out. “But as to the rest of you—Ashe has a point.”

Claude clapped his hands. He, Lorenz, and Marianne stood across the trio on the dais, with Edelgard and her friends a short distance away. The nine of them stood in a triangle formation, eyeing each other warily. “All right, everyone, time to fess up. Let’s have an open and honest discussion before we commit any illegal activities today!”

Dimitri’s eyes widened. “By ‘illegal’—”

“That is awfully rich coming from you, Liddell,” said Lorenz.

“Aw, what’s that? You’d like to go first? Well, the floor is yours.” Claude winked.

“You are exasperating. As everyone here knows, I was with you the entire time!”

“And a more faithful bodyguard there could never be. What about you, Marianne?”

Her eyes darted around the triangle like those of a frightened deer. Felix made a move to turn again, which both Dimitri and Ashe put away with well-timed glares.

“I just wanted a quiet place to read,” she said. Dimitri noticed she wasn’t holding a book. Unease wormed into him.

But Claude seemed to take her word for it. “What about Ferdinand?”

“Me? Why, I was following Edelgard, of course. It is a bit of a shame I had to miss the game, but I could never knowingly allow mischief to go unchecked!” He punctuated with an extra-emphatic flap of his wings.

An inscrutable expression flashed across Edelgard’s face—disappointment, perhaps? “I would have thought you trusted me more by now, Ferdinand,” she said, her tone light.

“Hmm? Yet I do not feel you would return the sentiment.”

Claude stifled his laugh with a cough. “Now then, care to explain yourself, Edelgard and Petra?”

“Well, it’s as you heard from Petra,” Edelgard said with a pointed look at Claude. “We’re here to investigate the book. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Somehow I doubt that’s all there is to it,” replied Claude, “but I’ll take it.”

Edelgard’s face didn’t change, but Petra looked relieved.

“I just came here out of boredom,” Ashe piped up. “I mean—not that the game was boring or anything—but it’s the last time I’ll ever see this place, after all.”

“So are we done here yet?” Felix asked flatly. “And before you ask, all we came here to do was to check on them.” He jerked his chin in Edelgard’s direction.

Dimitri frowned. “Is there a particular reason you’re looking here, Edelgard?”

She seemed to weigh her next words. Then she said with a tone of finality, “I have my suspicions on the truth about Fódlan’s beginning. It’s only on conjecture that I came here to Heritage Hall.” Her eyes narrowed. “If you all promise to keep this a secret, I see no reason we can’t work together.”

“I’m game if you all are,” said Claude easily. “Though I must say, Princess, it isn’t like you to open up like this.”

Edelgard’s face twitched, probably due to the new nickname, but she waited for the others without comment. Dimitri glanced between her and Claude, feeling as though he were once again being left out of some game the other two were playing. Which was a childish way to put it at that.

“As long as we do not break any rules, I will gladly join you,” Ferdinand declared.

“Same here,” said Felix, sounding impatient.

Ashe glanced at Dimitri, probably awaiting his call.

Lorenz still looked reluctant. “I am not certain it would be wise for all of us to jump in at once. Perhaps someone would be so good as to volunteer to watch outside.”

“A most excellent idea, Lorenz,” said Ferdinand enthusiastically. “Of course, it was folly not to consider that sooner!”

“In that case, I shall volunteer myself for the position.”

“Sounds good,” said Claude. “Earl Grey can keep you company.” His dormouse gave a peep of assent and, from atop Claude’s shoulder, raised a tiny teacup to Lorenz, who sighed.

“Marianne, you’re the only one of us with reliable experience in first aid.” Claude tilted his head. “Feel up for an adventure?”

She frowned. “I don’t wish to be a burden on any of you.”

“A burden? If what Claude says is true, you’d only be of help to us.” Edelgard seemed to be studying Marianne very intently, as if just noticing something about her for the first time. It struck Dimitri as ironic; he wondered if Edelgard knew how much the daughter of Beauty and the Beast dreaded her own story.

“I can attest to it,” he offered, remembering the incident that had sparked that conversation with Marianne in the first place.

Affronted on all sides, she caved. “If you really don’t mind, I suppose I can try to help.”

Dimitri smiled at her and tried to ignore the subsequent pang that struck him when she actually smiled back. Really, where was he going with this?

“I’ll come too, of course,” he said, returning to the goal at hand. “I don’t see the harm in seeking the truth.”

Headmistress Rhea had not told him to report everything he saw to her.

Ashe raised his hand. “Count me in for that, too. Don’t worry—I won’t publish it anywhere.”

“Very well,” said Edelgard. “We’ll form a game plan once we enter. But before that, there’s one thing you might want to know.” She nodded at Petra.

The daughter of Pinocchio pulled out the pair of glasses she had received for Thronecoming. “You may have belief in my words or not,” she said, “but I must speak the truth. The Storybook of Legends we had sight of in the morning, that is the one that half of us signed on Legacy Day, yes?”

Dimitri frowned. “Of course.”

“As far as anyone can tell, I guess,” said Claude.

Petra nodded. “But I have reason to believe that was not the true Storybook of Legends. Meaning, it is a fake.”

Silence filled the hall.

Earl Grey’s teacup clinked as he took a sip.

“But how can that be?” exclaimed Lorenz at last. “A false Storybook of Legends?—who ever heard of such a thing?”

“I barely understand what separates fact from fiction in this world,” said Claude. “And now we’re throwing in counterfeit artifacts to the mix.” He sighed.

“Nevertheless, Petra can only be speaking the truth,” Ferdinand said, holding a hand to his forehead.

“You mean our signatures are null?”

All eyes turned to Marianne. She paled. “I mean… Some of us did sign, after all, and…” For some reason she glanced at Dimitri, then quickly away.

“That’s only to say those glasses are functioning properly,” said Felix. “Magic isn’t foolproof.”

Petra frowned. “These glasses have been made by my father himself, and he has the blessing of a fairy.”

Dimitri stayed quiet as the others continued bickering. The Storybook of Legends—a fake? Why? Why, and how?

Did the headmistress know? She had to… right?

He met Edelgard’s gaze across the dais, and the look in her eyes practically confirmed it.

“The Evil Queen,” he murmured. “It had to be…” A surge of emotion rose up within him, dark and sticky and bitter. “She was that dedicated to her pursuit of chaos.”

Edelgard shifted. “Shouldn’t come as a surprise. It makes sense why Rhea would want to hide such a thing, doesn’t it? The bigger question is, where did She put the real one?”

“You think it’s in here?” said Dimitri. “In the big book?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. But I’m sure something is, and if we gather enough clues, we could put together some semblance of a picture of what's really going on.”

“Like a jigsaw puzzle.” Claude grinned. “It’s a good thing you have me, then.”

Dimitri stepped forward and reached for the giant tome’s cover. It opened with ease, as if it had been waiting for him all along, to reveal a massive paper cutout of a familiar palace.

Understanding seemed to dawn on all of them at once. The rose-gold colors, the great wide doors—it was a perfect replica of Heritage Hall. Or to put it a better way, perhaps it was the true Heritage Hall itself.

Dimitri glanced back at the others, then steeled himself and stepped through the door. He felt a shimmer of magic as he crossed the threshold.

He found himself in a great hall, not unlike the one he had been standing in a moment before; only this one was built of cool grey stone, with magic glowing in every crack. On a pedestal raised many times higher than the one outside, a great throne sat at the end of the hall. He had the sense that it was made specifically for something—for someone—and that no one else should so much as touch it until that person came.

It was an eerie sensation. He turned, spotting the alcoves along the wall, only these were plain and undecorated, and held four identical doors on each side—eight in total. Did these lead to the other areas of the palace?

“Strong magic,” said Edelgard’s voice behind him, making him jump. Claude’s chuckle followed shortly.

“How quaint,” said Ferdinand as he flew up toward the throne. “But what are these letters here?—‘Siege Perilous,’ it says. Odd!”

“What does ‘Siege Perilous’ mean?” Petra asked.

“It sounds familiar.” Felix’s crutches echoed as he entered. “From a knight’s legend, maybe?”

Ashe came up to Dimitri’s side, eyes widened in wonder. “That’s right, Felix—the Siege Perilous is from an old knight’s tale. It’s connected to the legend of Thronecoming, if I remember correctly—it’s a throne reserved for a certain great hero that will purify the land from darkness.”

Marianne was the last to join them. She stood on Dimitri’s other side, her hands clasped tightly together as she surveyed their surroundings in thoughtful silence.

“And what do these doors mean?” Claude knocked on one of them and held his ear against it. “No answer. Rude!”

“There are eight of them.” Dimitri ventured to the one across from Claude. “And they seem the only way to progress further in this place, so perhaps we should split up.”

Ashe grimaced. “Splitting up always ends badly in the stories…”

“We don’t have much time,” said Edelgard. “And remember, this place reeks of magic. It—well, I’m not sure how to put it, but I feel that it knows us somehow.”

“But do we know what we’re even looking for?” Felix asked.

“Whatever it is, we’ll find it,” said Dimitri, with a spoonful more confidence than he felt. “Pick a door, all of you, and let’s go in together.” He turned the knob. “We’ll meet back here as soon as we can.”

Then he opened the door and stepped inside.