The Never

15-year-old Miromaximus Grimhilde was not a normal girl.

This, for a very different reason than Katezmira’s, is because she is the daughter of the evil queen. 

She was a cruel girl. This was not by choice. Miromaximus simply was. She grew up on all the same stories as Katezmira had, except Miro had always been drawn to the other half. The side no one ever gave more than a glare to. The stories that only ever got told from someone else’s mouth. She particularly despised the story of Snow White. From what her mother told her, it had happened quite differently from what most say.

Today is Saturday. The sky is dark and cloudy, the wind is howling, and Miro has been up for hours. Today is her first day of school. She is standing in front of a mirror, checking her outfit.

Miro was certainly not an ugly girl. She had very light skin with dark, shining brown hair that fell in ringlets, and dark brown, glittering eyes. To her mothers disappointment, she also had very red lips. Her mother did not like this as heroines such as Snow White or Sleeping Beauty had the same trait, trademarked as “Lips as red as blood” and “Lips that shamed the red, red rose.” Miro herself also knew this and as a result sometimes colored them dark with lipstick, but not so today.

She was also very tiny. Not incredibly short, but just below average. The thing that made her so small to look at was that she was very, very skinny. She is currently wearing a black dress with an obsidian necklace and complex silver and black clip tying her hair back in a braided bun.

Miro’s mother had been in her room talking with her minutes before, then left her to await the Fade. Miro was glad of this. She wanted to be alone when it happened.

Miro, unlike Kat, not only knows what is about to happen, but is very excited for it. This is going to be her first year going to this school. All the kids already know her, and she has many friends there. She is excited to see who the readers would be as well.

She hears her bedroom door open behind her. She turns around to see a young boy, her age, walking in. He has black hair and dark eyes, pale skin, and was wearing a white button-up shirt with black pants and shoes. 

“Hello stand-in.” Miro says, surprised.

“Hello Miro. I was just checking if you needed anything.” He said, his face remaining emotionless. 

“Oh… no, I’m good.”

“Alright.” He turns to leave, then stops. “Miro,” He says quietly, half-opening the door. “I will miss you.”

She smiled. “I’ll miss you too.”

No one knew who the Stand-in was or how he came to work for the evil queen. He had been taking care of the household since Miro was born, but never looked a day older and was somehow always there. And he didn’t blink a lot. But growing up in a big, empty castle had made Miro and the Stand-in as close as siblings.

He gives her one last glance before leaving.

Sighing, Miro sits down on her bed and closes her eyes. Suddenly, she feels very cold and very tired.

Then she woke up.