Chapter Text
“Come on in!”
The old, wooden door opened with a prolonged creak as Apple White walked in. Her red dress fit her like a glove, enchanting every curve, and her light blonde hair was just as perfect as ever, yet she seemed awfully nervous.
“You called, headmaster Grimm?” she asked, sitting down on the smaller throne in front of his as large as a real throneroom, yet much less ornate office. The wooden floor creaked slightly beneath them as the figure behind the desk swayed from side to side, putting a big, skin-covered tome away onto one of the many dark bookshelves surrounding the breathing room. The smell was that of a man-made forest, which the, shooing in the wind from the wide-open window, delicate leaves that decorated the furniture, helped with.
“Indeed I did, princess,” a voice answered. The wheeled throne spun around and a well-groomed, grey-haired man looked down at her from behind the heavy oak desk, a small, discomforting smirk on his face. “You know that the end of this school year is fairy close and you’re probably hexcited to relax after… well, everything that has happened in the last few months.”
Apple winced and started nervously fidgeting with the skirt of her dress, but she didn’t say a word.
“Unfortunately, until the last bell rings, you’re still our Royal Student Council co-president, so you still have your duties and responsibilities,” he stood up, his hands crossed behind his back. “Which is why I called you in today. As a future queen, I’m sure you’re familiar with all our royal traditions, right?” the grey-haired man waited for a few seconds, then, taken aback, glared at her. “Miss White?”
“Ah, yes! Sorry.” she blinked and smiled apologetically. “I try to get to know the traditions we still spellebrate as much as I can.”
“Of course. So, you know that with every summer vacation, there’s the event of Mythical Summer, don't you? This year, as the Student president, you and Madeline Hatter, whom I have already talked to, will be in charge of organizing it. Now, I’m giving you as much of a free hand to it as I can, but maybe I can try and inspire you a bit.”
Grimm delicately glided his fingertips above the backs of albums on one of the shelves before finally picking one out and putting it on the table.
“Throughout the last couple of decades,” he said, sitting back down. “Many generations of fairytale characters spellebrated the end of every school year with a different event. Some decided to throw a themed party” he pointed to some old, black-and-white pictures, then flipped the page with a crackling sound. “Others, to do something for their communities,” he flipped a few pages again, pointing to another photo. “And others settled on spending time playing games with a circle of their friends.” He closed the album and set it aside. “Now, the time has come for you to choose your way of spellebrating.”
“Of course, Headmaster Grimm! I’ll talk to Maddie,” the princess nodded, looking up from the album, and smiled. “And we’ll discuss it with our classmates. I’m sure we’ll come up with something spelltacular!”
“I sure don’t hexpect anything less from you, Miss White,” he smiled again as the princess giggled politely, got up from her seat, and started moving towards the door. “Oh, and Apple?” she looked back again, curiously. “I trust you’ll figure out the big question mark standing over your destiny, too. You know how important it is for all of us, right? You absolutely cannot rebel or mess anything up at all. You know how that could end.”
“…Right.” Apple suddenly seemed to get significantly smaller. She clenched her fists so tightly her knuckles became pale, still keeping an enchanting smile. “You know I put tradition and my family name first, headmaster. I always have and I... I always will!”
“Very good. We all put our utmost trust in you, you must remember that at all times. Go now," he waved his hand. "And have a fairy good day, Miss White.”
“..you too, Headmaster Grimm,” her small smile didn't reach her eyes as she curtsied and hurried over to the exit.
As the door closed behind her, creaking ominously once again, she let out a deep breath she didn't realise she was holding, and her practised obedient expression immediately disappeared. She bit her bloody red lip, let herself get lost in thought again, and, with her hands astray in the familiar sensation of fidgeting with the material of her dress, she leaned against the doorway.
This was going to be a long week.