Chapter Text
She was never the believing type. In fact, she was a complete opposite. However, when her best friend told her about the famous Prince of Hearts, she thought she could believe just for a while. Her intentions were not motivated by love, but by vengeance. So she has gone on an adventure, looking for a magical door leading to the Fate’s chapel.
The night was cold, the wind was blowing through her cape, despite the girl’s efforts to keep it closed. The sky twinkled with the stars that decided to appear that night, showing the way to her revenge. She cursed under her breath when she bumped into a stranger. She tightened her cloak around her, and continued on walking to the church. She was freezing, she felt how her cheeks reddened because of the wind, how her fingers started to feel like icy stones, her thoughts drifted to the description of the church given to her by her best friend.
“It only looks like a regular building here in the south, but it has no doors to be found at first, you must be worthy to enter such a place,” Evangeline said, making dreamy eyes at the single thought of magic, y/n only rolled her eyes, thinking it was just a gimmick, made to deter people from somebody’s home.
Y/n stumbled in her slippers, she knew that she should have chosen a better pair for such an endeavour. She put her hand on a wall of the closest building and righted herself. She looked at it and noticed that it was some kind of a chapel, but when she tried to see the big door that should be in the middle of the main wall she stopped breathing, there was no door.
She quickly corrected her slipper and went on with looking for a secret passage. She hadn’t believed Evangeline when she had said that one needed to be worthy of entering the church, but her heart started hammering in her chest at the thought.
She took careful steps around the west walls of the church, there the wind was so strong that her cloak troubled with her vision and y/n couldn’t focus on the task. Just when she neared the corner, she heard a bell. It was ringing so loudly that even the irritating wooshes of the wind couldn’t stop it.
“Interesting,” she murmured, making her way towards the bell. It was small for making such a noise, but the gold was illuminating the moonlight as if somebody had spent days or weeks on polishing it. She pulled out a dagger out of the little pocket in the bodice of her dress, piercing her finger with it waiting for a drop of blood to appear. Y/n wasn’t the type to fret at every little sound, but in that moment, with her back turned from the street and her ears focused on every little sound, she felt a bit alert. She pressed her bloodied finger on a brick and heard something.
She could not believe her eyes when she saw the door spring out out of nowhere. It was a redwood door with a dark handle, waiting to be opened - or so she thought. When the door creaked, revealing the dark corridor possibly leading to the altar. She squinted her eyes, trying to see in the dark, however there was no light in the building. She made a careful step inside, touching the walls in order to navigate her way towards the inside. Y/n heard a loud sound, she turned around and saw the door closing behind her. The hair on her neck rose, however determined as she was, she proceeded with her plan. She wanted to see smirk wiped out of his face, his heart as broken as her was when she had found out the truth, the tears in his eyes when he would realise what had just happened.
She entered the main room with the altar, the wind was gusting even harder in the spacious room, creating the goosebumps on y/n’s skin. She trembled, but made her way towards the altar and the sculpture of the infamous Prince of Hearts.
Evangeline had described him, the golden locks and the handsomest face a girl could ever see. “And of course, his lips that can lead you to your death, as his kiss is worth dying for,” Evangeline had dreamed on, her pupils dilated and her lips parted. Y/n’d rolled her eyes, criticising the idea of whatever legend and myth it was.
“Oh and he cries bloody tears while the girl is dying in his arms,” Evangeline had chirped, “isn’t it romantic?”
“Killing every girl you kiss? Intentionally?”
“No! Crying blood because of it,” Evangeline had screamed out.
“You need a new definition of romantic.”
Y/n noticed a boy, kneeling, ripping his shirt to threads, but decided not to comment on that. If it made him feel better, who was she to interrupt? She came closer to the statue, her neck prickled with the sensation of being watched, but she paid no mind to it. She gathered the skirt of her bottle green dress and kneeled down in front of the sculpture. She cleared her throat, trying to gather her thoughts.
“Well,” she started, not knowing how to word her prayer. “There is this boy,” she cringed at the sentence, letting out a bitter laugh and closing her eyes. “Of course there is a boy, I wouldn’t be here otherwise. Anyhow, he betrayed my mind and my heart. I found him last week in a rather hot embrace with my cousin and I felt such a suffocating rage at him,” she took a deep breath, readying herself for the request. “I want him to suffer, I want his heart to shatter when he falls in love with a girl and he inevitably betrays her like he betrayed me, I want him to never find his one true love, I want him to be miserable.”
She opened her eyes and looked around expecting a whoosh of wind and a man appearing out of it, however nothing like this happened.
“Your life truly is a tragedy,” a voice sounded from behind her back. As she turned around, she saw the same boy who had been ripping his shirt, making careful steps in her direction. He was beautiful, his hair indeed, was golden and the smirk that was playing on his lips created a dimple in his cheek. “I favour your desire to make it his as well,”
He stood beside her and she stood up, not wanting to feel smaller than him. However, he was taller than her, she reached his chin and when she looked straight into his eyes, she noticed how cool of a blue shade they were. They reminded her of ice she had once seen when she had travelled with her father to the North as a child. She reminded herself how much she had missed North.
“He is a traitor, I wish he got what he deserves. You can turn him into a frog for all I care”
“Hence, you came here to make a deal with the Fate? So as to turn a boy that betrayed you into a frog” he questioned, circling her. In his hand he had an apple she hadn’t noticed before. She frowned when she noticed the peculiar colour of it.
“Why is your apple white?”
“Magic, love,” he bit down on it, “Just like whatever happens next, when we make a deal.”
Y/n’s eyes rolled at his words, she crossed her arms on her chest. “What do you want from me?”
“Oh, it is simple, love,” the Fate started, “In case you want him to never be able to find love, I want you to only kiss one person until the end of your life.”
“What?” her eyes widened at the request. “Whatever person of my choice?”
“No, silly,” the Fate came to her and lightly touched her nose, tinting her cheeks pink. “Your true love,” the apple that was in his hand gone.
“And how should I know I met them?”
“Trust me, you shall know,” he lightly took her wrist, circling his fingers around it. “Do we have a deal?”
“How should you know I fulfilled my part?” her curiosity was out of the roof, she stopped caring about the wind blowing up her hair, only the warmth in her stomach that the Fate had caused.
“Trust me, love, I will never stop observing you,” his words sounded both like a sweet promise and like a threat. “Do we have a deal?” he repeated, bringing her wrist closer to his mouth.
“Yes,” she whispered, almost closing her eyes.
She felt him biting down on her skin, hard. Her lips parted with a scream and a desire to break her hand free, however the Fate was holding it firmly. When she managed to pry it, she noticed a scar in a shape of an apple. She hugged her wrist and looked at him, with wrath in her gaze.
“I had always shook hands while making a deal,” she spat out.
“That is an old-fashioned way, love,” he smiled at her. “Well, now that boy will turn into a frog and only his true love is able to turn him back,”
“Hmm,” she let go of her hand, taking a step back. “Do you know who she is?”
“No,” he started making his way towards the exit. “I wouldn’t look for her, if I were you,”
“Why?” she frowned.
“Heartbreak, I suppose” he was almost out of the door.
“Wait!” she hurried after him. “What is your name?”
He stopped, waiting a heartbeat. “You can call me Jacks,”
And then he left, leaving her with an apple-shaped scar and a rapidly beating heart.