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He'd bought the books as a teenager from a curio shop, long before he knew anything of what it was to live in secrecy and shadows. They'd been on a shelf next to other enchanted books, in between the textbook that flipped its own pages and reminded you to study, and the book of poisons that could list every person who had ever been poisoned with one of the concoctions within its pages.
It was a simple set of two journals, with plain leather covers. He'd had the locks added much later. What you wrote in one appeared in the other, and vice versa. He'd thought it a fun way to write notes to his friends during class, or maybe a way of communicating with each other when in detention. He'd lost interest in them after a few months, and they'd languished on a dusty shelf in his closet for years.
They had proven, and still were, immeasurably useful to him after his marriage.
After the emergency staff meeting at the end of the disastrous Legacy Day, he finally retired to his office and locked the door. He took his book out of the false bottom of the desk drawer it was in, turned to the next blank page, and wrote, I need to talk to you.
That he was writing that instead of whatever he wanted to say for his wife to look at at her leisure meant that it was an emergency, that she would ensure she was somewhere private and wouldn't be interrupted.
Her answer came almost immediately, far sooner than his would have; while she carried the book on her person and habitually checked it every so often, he, living at Ever After High, did not have that luxury and had to make do with checking it once or twice a day. Is Cerise okay?
He cursed himself for his thoughtlessness; of course she would assume something had happened to Cerise. The only times they had ever used the books for emergencies was when something had happened to one of the girls, like when it had been decided that Ramona would go to reform school. Cerise is fine, he scrawled quickly. But I need to talk to you - something very important has happened.
It was a few more minutes before her writing appeared letter by letter across the page; perhaps she had had to go home, lock the doors, ensure that she would not be interrupted before giving her journal her full attention. What is it?
He took a deep breath, pen poised above the paper. The headmaster had ordered all teachers and students to keep quiet about what had happened today; no doubt he still hoped to influence young Miss Queen to sign, and did not want word getting out. It would be a scandal. It would cause panic.
He did not think Milton Grimm would succeeded in getting Miss Queen to change her mind. He had seen the look in her eyes, dark and determined, as she had ripped her page out of the book. He had seen that look in only two others before, and one of those had been his own reflection.
No, she wouldn't change her mind.
But it was all still very raw, very new. Very shocking. He thought he could articulate what he felt now, although of course what he felt was quite different from what all the other school faculty was feeling. As far as he knew, at least. Of course, if anyone felt otherwise, he wouldn't know.
Today was Legacy Day.
Her answer came even before he'd finished forming the final letter. Today?
There was a pause, no doubt while she thought of what else to write, while shock and surprise and confusion all vied to come out of her pen. A single splotch of ink materialized on the page.
He moved it up, he wrote before she could decide what to ask. There was no need to specify who the "he" was; even when together, they spoke of him, the one they most feared discovering them, only in hushed whispers. These past few years, actually working at Ever After High, which he had once thought he'd leave behind forever, had been...difficult.
He changed the date. He didn't tell any of the parents, he told the students not to tell them either, until it was over. He wanted to get it over with quickly. I couldn't tell you - he made the decision very suddenly, and he was very
He paused for a moment, trying to think of the right word to describe Milton Grimm these last few days. Worried? Paranoid? Suspicious? Afraid?
agitated, he wrote finally, that everything might not go as it always did. I couldn't risk writing to you until now. Grimm had kept popping in on him, inviting him to his office to speak of matters of little consequence, stopping him to talk in the halls, and each interaction left perspiration on the back of his neck, even though for once he knew that it was not him that was suspected of wrongdoing. He was the General Villainy teacher, and the headmaster thought that perhaps his most infamous student would come to him for advice, and that he would advice her to commit a very villainous act.
What would he have told Raven, if she had asked his advice? Hypocrisy did not sit well with him.
It took him a moment to realize that new words had formed in his wife's familiar handwriting. So what happened?
He minced no words. One of the students didn't sign the Storybook.
She did not answer.
He was not surprised. It was shocking enough to him, who had witnessed it, who had seen his student's questions and doubts over the past weeks, who had spent nearly half his life thinking that he and his wife were the only ones who dared sidestep Destiny. No doubt she had many questions, and he had answers to only a few of them.
When words began to form again, they were ever so slightly shaky. Only those who had seen much of her handwriting over the years would have recognized the difference. Who? Why?
Even the two of them had signed the Storybook. At the time, rebelling against Destiny had been barely a far-fetched idea.
And after all, they hadn't really defied Destiny, had they? They had both fulfilled their story. They'd just gotten married afterwards.
She didn't want to be evil. She has a villainous destiny, and she didn't want to fulfill it.
So she didn't sign?
More than that. She actually ripped her page out of the Storybook.
A long pause, as they both considered the ramifications.
None of the students who were due to sign after her did either, he added. But she was the one who started it. The others didn't sign only because they had no choice; they might sign if given the opportunity again, I do not know. Cerise didn't get to sign.
Cerise had been due to sign after Raven, and so hadn't been able to. She hadn't minded signing, she didn't think. The sooner she finished her story, the sooner she could get on with her life, away from the scrutiny of the other fairytales.
She hadn't minded signing, except where her sister was concerned.
Ramona had signed the Storybook of Legends. She had been brought back from reform school only for last year's Legacy Day, signed, and been sent straight back. She had signed her own death.
He had survived his story - the first Big Bad Wolf in generations to do so. And he was not the only one who had survived. It was possible to survive. Ramona would, too. They would make sure of it.
They had plans, ideas. They'd been thinking of what to do ever since both girls were toddlers. With his wife the mother sending their daughter into the woods, and her own grandmother the elderly woman waiting in the forest - although of course she, as yet, did not know her great-granddaughter's true parentage, or in fact that she had two - almost everyone in the story would collaborate to ensure Ramona's survival.
Everyone, except Hunter Huntsman. The only outsider in the story. The only one who was not related to Ramona. The only one who had no reason not to fulfill Destiny. While there was no way Cerise would have her sister killed, Hunter would be the one to do the actual killing.
He had met the boy a few times. He seemed a kind, gentle soul, not like a murderer at all. But that did not mean anything for the role of Huntsman. It was only a role, after all, and not his true self. He would fulfill his role and do whatever he wished with his life, unless he could be persuaded not to, tricked or prevented.
They still had nearly three more years. They would work something out.
Only now Raven Queen hadn't signed, and Cerise hadn't gotten to either, and what did that mean for the story of Little Red Riding Hood?
Who didn't sign? his wife wrote.
He hesitated. I can't tell you yet. When I next see you, maybe, although neither of them knew when that would be.
But Miss Queen was only a child, still under the laws of the school, and while he wanted to see what his wife would say about the actions of the daughter of her old friend - few knew or remembered that she had been the roommate of the Evil Queen in high school, and the Evil Queen had gotten along with her better than anyone else - he could not spread rumors of her. The girl would have enough to deal with. Her identity would become public knowledge sooner or later, but he would have no hand in that, even if both he and his wife knew very well how to keep a secret.
They cheered when she didn't sign, Scarlet, he wrote, addressing his wife by her true name, one of the few privileged to do so, which only underscored how serious the matter was. She ripped her page out of the book, and announced that she didn't want to fulfill Destiny, and they cheered for her. At least half the students. They were happy about it. They feel the same way.
There was only a moment's pause before she wrote, Cerise?
She didn't. She couldn't. She can't draw attention to herself. She won't have cheered, but I saw her going with the other Rebels to celebrate the girl who didn't sign. That's what they're calling themselves now.
They're celebrating openly? They're not keeping it a secret, they're not afraid?
It can hardly be kept a secret any longer. But, you see - I wish you had been here. I wish you could have seen. There are so many of them, and this is their generation. Cerise and Ramona's, I mean. He wasn't quite as good as expressing what he meant through writing rather than speech, and his hand was beginning to ache, but this was the price for safe, secret communication with his wife.
She underlined two of the words he had written, their generation, and added below, You mean opposed to ours?
Yes. These are their fellow students, their friends. Not that either of the girls had many friends, if any at all, but neither of them mentioned that. This is their generation, he wrote again. She didn't sign, openly defied destiny. Her friends cheered her on, out in public. There were so many of them, and they cannot all be stifled or changed. Things are changing, Scarlet. Maybe for the better. Maybe one day
He didn't finish, unsure of how to put his turmoil of thoughts into words, but she completed his sentence with the girls will be able to live openly?
Yes. That was it. They had never dared hope for that. But now, everything was different. Not now, not yet. But maybe in a few years, they will be able to live freely. It won't matter so much that we went against destiny, not with everything else going on. It's too late for us, but not for them. One day.
One day, Cerise would be able to take off her hood. One day, Ramona would be able to freely embrace her human heritage.
I hope so.
I hope so too.