Chapter Text
What makes a person happy? Is it family? Is it riches? Is it achievements? What could it be? To many this is an enigma, but to the Herschell family, it wasn't. Even if they had riches, even if they achieved a lot of great things, even if they were already a happy family, they still knew that the greatest joy a person could have was memories, whether they were happy memories or gloomy ones.
One fateful day in the year of the lord, 1900, they welcomed a new member to the family, a child they desperately wanted to have the most joyous memories with. The little (h/c) haired child was a very rambunctious yet shy six-year-old who was adopted on a stormy autumn night, right after they were orphaned.
The child's name was (Y/N), a name that had a strange yet satisfying ring to it. The strangeness wasn't only in the name, but also in their personality. They were more than an imaginative kid. Many lived only one life, but in sweet little (Y/N)'s eyes, they lived many lives through the stories they invented and heard.
"Mircea, they're not even your real biological child. Why would you much rather pride yourself with your deceased best friend's child instead of your own son?" A man with a very fancy moustache and blond hair asked the man that was sitting in front of him. The man, Mircea Herschell, poured himself a glass of wine before sipping on it.
"The answer is quite simple. I still love my Walter, but he's a very mean child, a child who would much rather pick on others than achieve anything in life. (Y/N), even if they're not from my own blood, is the opposite. They could never tell a lie, even if you'd tell them to. They cry every time they see moths that died at their cill*. I wouldn't be surprised if they could also talk to mice!" Mircea began laughing pridefully.
Before they could continue their conversation, the young child he mentioned was at the doorstep, a tearful face plaguing their expression. They must've had a nightmare again. "I'll be right back." Mircea smiled at the man as he walked towards the child, who was currently dressed in their nightgown.
As they were walking back to the child's room, (Y/N) kept clinging onto the man, as if he was a giant stuffed toy. "Did you have another nightmare?" the man asked.
The child broke down just as they were at the doorstep of their room. Mircea picked them up and brought them back to their fluffy white bed. As (Y/N) was put back onto the bed, they still clung onto Mircea, as if they were a small baby sloth. "...Do you want me to stay here?" The man asked.
The child nodded. Mircea tried to think of what could've plagued the child's mind. Did they start mourning insects yet again? Did they dream of a scary monster?
"I miss mama and papa...will I see them again?" (Y/N) asked. Mircea then understood the situation: (Y/N) was homesick. How could he possibly tell this child that their parents are gone, disappeared off the face of the Earth?
"You will see them again, I can assure you..." He lied, just to calm the child down. The child seemed to have calmed down a bit.
"You promise?" little (Y/N) asked, holding their pinky up high. It was a childish habit that Mircea saw both (Y/N) and his own son use, assuming that every child had this sort of tradition.
“I cross my heart, dear!” He chuckled, holding his pinky up high to join (Y/N)’s silly ritual.
The child smiled for a bit, before it turned upside down. “But…why did mama and papa leave me? Was I a bad child?”
Mircea frowned too, remembering when he heard the news of Oswald, (Y/N)’s father and his best friend, going missing together with his wife…nobody knew where they were, or when they were last seen. If it wasn't for (Y/N)'s existence, nobody would've even known that the child's parents even existed in the first place. They simply went... Poof! And suddenly were gone.
"No, dear... You were always an amazing child. Your mama and papa are more than proud of you!"
"But then... Where did they go?" the child asked, sniffing.
Mircea actually had no clue how to respond. Should he simply invent something up? "Well.. they went to this wonderful world where magic is real. It's similar to our own world, but it's got fairytales elements combined, like dragons and mermaids, and even beastmen!" The man began doing a dancing hand motion so he could cheer up the child.
It seemed to have worked as (Y/N) began giggling. "And what are mama and papa doing there?"
"They decided to become spell casters. One day you'll also become like them, and you'll see them again!" Mircea felt very bad for bluffing about this whole invented world, but he knew it was only to calm the child down.
"Will Walter come too?" (Y/N) asked, which made Mircea chuckle.
"Of course, dear, but only if he'd want to!"
"I'm going to ask him now!" the child tried getting off the bed, before Mircea stopped them.
"But it's very late in the night, did you forget?" Mircea chuckled once more, tucking (Y/N) into the fluffy blanket. (Y/N) nodded in shame. "Well, you should go take a rest. I promise you that you can ask him tomorrow!"
With that said, the young child closed their eyes, slowly falling into dreamland. Mircea smiled at the sight, and tucked them under the covers, before blowing out the candle near their bed.
The evening sky is cloudy as our protagonist sits in the ornate carriage, a prisoner of circumstance. The opulent trappings of the carriage reflect the luxury of the party sweet (Y/N) is about to attend, a grand event to which their adoptive parents have insisted they accompany them to. (Y/N) was no more a child, but now a young gentleman/lady at the age of fifteen. Even if they grew up, they were still as kindhearted as they used to be when they were a wee thing.
As the carriage was making it's way to the party, the young teenager's fingers trace the delicate patterns of the lace curtain that separated them from the outside world, wondering how life would be if they could only have fun like all the other young rambunctious kids their age.
The carriage rumbles softly over the cobbled streets, each jolts a reminder of their reluctant participation in this social affair. They glance at their reflection in the polished window pane, their appearance meticulously arranged to meet their parents' expectations. Their outfit, made of silk and lace, felt stifling, and the jewels adorning their neck and wrists seemed like gilded shackles.
As the carriage rolls on, (Y/N) can't help but replay the conversation with their adoptive parents that led to this unwanted ordeal. Their voices, laced with insistence and expectations, echo in poor (Y/N)'s mind.
"(Y/N), you simply must attend this soirée," Mrs Clair Herschell, had declared, her tone brooking no argument. "It's essential for a young person of your station to be seen at such events. It's an opportunity to make connections, to secure your future."
"And besides," ther, Mr. Mircea Herschell, had chimed in, his words carrying the weight of tradition, "it's a matter of societal obligation. We must uphold our family's reputation."
Their parents' words had been a decree, and their objections had fallen on deaf ears. So, here they were, on my way to a party they neither desired nor understood.
The carriage jolts to a stop, bringing me back to the present. (Y/N) looks at their adoptive brother, Walter, ignoring them. Feeling bored, They decided to peer out of the window, and their heart sank as they caught sight of the lavish mansion that hosts the event.
With a resigned sigh, they push aside the curtain and step out of the carriage. The night air is thick with the scent of flowers and the distant strains of music. There was a couple waiting for us at the entrance, smiling at them, to which they offered a forced smile in response.
"At last. We thought you'd never arrive." The woman said, smiling. It was Mrs Maddox, a middle-aged woman with black curls and dark skin. She was the wife of (Y/N)'s adoptive father's friend, Mr Maddox. She looked at (Y/N) and Walter and smiled. "There are plenty of young gentlemen and ladies around your ages at the outdoor dancefloor in the gardens."
Before they could say anything, Walter took me by the hand and started walking towards the gardens. As they both stepped into the gardens, They started examining this place. Lanterns hung from the trees, casting soft, flickering light on the dancers twirling gracefully to the music. The night air was cool and fragrant with the scent of roses and jasmine, a stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere within the mansion.
"Don't make a fool of yourself," Walter said as he left them outside the dancefloor. Why is he always so bossy? I mean, he is older than them with two years, but that doesn't permit him to boss them around.
Still feeling salty, (Y/N) decided to ignore the fun other people were having and sat alone at a teapoy. The teapoy's design is very elegant, with its gracefully curved legs and delicate filigree accents. It stands on four dainty feet, each embellished with a brass cap. The tabletop itself is a work of art, forming intricate patterns and floral motifs.
On top of the teapoy, a porcelain tea set is displayed. The tea cups are works of art in their own right, hand-painted with delicate, intricate patterns of roses and gilded edges. Their handles, though dainty, are expertly designed for a comfortable grip.
(Y/N) picked up one of the teacups and began sipping gently from it, so as to not burn their tongue. Their fingers lightly trace the patterns on the cups as they sip fragrant tea infused with the aroma of freshly steeped leaves. The porcelain feels cool and delicate in their hands. The cup's rim is smooth against their lips, and the taste is exquisite. A blend of the finest Darjeeling leaves with a hint of lavender.
As they opened their eyes, they saw they were now in a forest area. Everything about the scenery looked like something you'd see in an oil painting, from the warm colours that were quite a contrast to the current cold and cloudy autumn weather from the party, to even the interestingly shaped trees. The whole place looked like something from a fairytale. (Y/N) looked around... but saw no one in particular. They were confused. Where were they?
"(Y/N)"
Before (Y/N) could turn their back to see where that calming, almost hypnotizing, voice came from, they blinked and realized they were at the party again. They must've been daydreaming... yet it all felt so vivid...
"You're Mr Herschell's son/daughter/child, right?" (Y/n) heard a feminine voice ask. It was a simple girl, with olive skin and black hair, who decided to sit next to them. The young protagonist nodded their head. "How did you know?"
"I saw you sipping tea. Walter, who I assume is your brother, told me that you're his sibling. You don't really look alike, you know?" She said. "I know, a lot of people tell me that." (Y/N) giggled softly. The girl extended her hand. "I'm Charmaine."
"I'm (Y/N)." They extended their own hand, which Charmaine gladly shook.
"Miss Dzon, May we continue our dance?" Asked a boy, who (Y/N) assumes is Charmaine's dance partner. Charmaine sighed and waved at them. (Y/N) waved back, feeling a little sad that their conversation ended so quickly.
The rest of the afternoon was boring. Just watching everyone dance looked very silly to (Y/N). They observed everyone dance, until they entered the manor, leaving them alone at the teapoy.
The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden hue over the sprawling garden that surrounded this ancestral home. (Y/N) became curious. Normally, it was never this sunny outside, especially this late. (Y/N) stepped through the wrought iron gate, a sense of adventure and curiosity pulsing through their veins.
The garden had always held a certain mystique for them. As they strolled along the cobblestone path, the fragrance of blooming roses and lavender enveloped them like a comforting embrace.
The adolescent wandered deeper into the garden, their steps taking them past a stone fountain adorned with intricate carvings of cherubs and mythical creatures. It stood as a sentinel, its waters flowing with a soothing melody that seemed to beckon them further into this enchanting realm.
The garden was vast, with hidden alcoves and secluded corners waiting to be discovered. (Y/N) meandered along winding pathways, each turn revealing a new sort of beauty. Vibrant flowers in hues of crimson and gold danced in the gentle breeze, their petals kissed by the sun's tender rays. Tall, ancient oaks provided a shelter of shade, their contorted branches forming intricate patterns against the sky.
As (Y/N)) ventured deeper into the garden, they found themself drawn to a less-travelled path, a narrow trail that wound its way through a dense thicket of wildflowers. The path seemed to beckon with an irresistible allure as if it held a secret waiting to be uncovered.
Their heart quickened with anticipation as they followed the winding trail. The flowers here were different, exotic and rare, with petals that seemed to shimmer like crushed velvet.
It was then that they stepped on something. It was an abandoned amulet, half-buried in the soft earth. It glimmered in the dappled sunlight, a small treasure hidden amidst the flora. (Y/N) crouched down to examine it, their fingers trembling with a mix of excitement and curiosity.
The amulet was unlike anything I had ever seen. It was fashioned from a polished purple stone, smooth to the touch, with a silver chain that had tarnished with age. Its centrepiece was an intricately carved emblem, a delicate design that seemed to come alive when they gazed upon it. The craftsmanship was exquisite, and they couldn't help but wonder about its origin and purpose.
With great care, (Y/N) picked up the amulet, its cool weight resting in the palm of their hand. It pulsed with a faint, otherworldly energy, and as (Y/N) held it closer to their eyes, they noticed tiny, iridescent veins running through the stone, like shimmering threads of magic.
(Y/N) knew that they had stumbled upon something extraordinary, something that held a story and a significance all its own. The amulet felt ancient, as if it had been waiting in this hidden corner of the garden for a purpose, and they couldn't help but wonder what that purpose might be. They weren't a kleptomaniac for sure, but they left that this amulet needed a new owner: them.
With the amulet cradled in their hand, (Y/N) made their way back to the main garden path. The setting sun painted the sky with hues of rose and gold, casting long shadows across the landscape. (Y/N) decided to put the amulet around their neck.
The amulet began glowing all of a sudden. Before (Y/N) could ponder any further, the amulet suddenly flashed a white color. The adults heard and rushed outside. But they found no trace of (Y/N). Mircea then realized something as everyone began searching for his adoptive child: They met the same fate as their parents... disappearance.
Aah...My dear esteemed benefactor
My proud, beautiful flower of evil
You are truly the fairest one of all
O magic mirror, thy wisdom I entreat...
Reveal unto me the visage I seek...
You, whose image the Dark mirror did beckon forth...
If your heart bids it,
Take the hand of the one reflected in the mirror
To me, to them, to yourself
The hour grows long, and time is scarce
Keep steady your grip no matter what may come...
Welcome to the villains' world