𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐘𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐄━︎━︎E. Grimhilde ✓︎

❝CHAPTER ONE❞

▌𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞 ━︎━︎ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 ▌

━︎━︎━︎━︎𝐈𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐖𝐀𝐒 not what you would necessarily classify as a loner, however, she did have quite trouble making friends. Everyone knew who she was, they knew who her mother was, and despite her being given a princess title from her aunt who had declared her the heir of the throne, the actual princesses always sent her looks of distaste and judgement. She refused to wear dresses, usually donning the Auradon Prep halls with a t-shirt, leather jacket, and a pair of jeans. Her red hair was her symbol, one that she held on to with the hope of one day going back to the Isle to see her mother.

However, what the entire school did classify her as was the "bad girl" or "the villain kid". Quite frankly, Ilaria excepted those titles with pride. She wasn't cruel per say, but she wasn't afraid to tell you off, nor was she afraid to break the rules. She was a troublemaker, one that didn't give a care in the world about what others thought about her. She'd been personally disciplined by the King and Queen of Auradon themselves and she wore that like a badge of honor, as if it were the best prize to receive.

Hence why she was currently sitting in an empty classroom, accompanied only by Ilaria and Fairy Godmother. She was on her final strike, according to the King and Queen, and now she was being forced to take a Remedial Goodness class they'd created just for her. Her feet were propped up on the desk, crossed at the ankles, with her arms crossed over her chest out of boredom.

     Fairy Godmother sighed. "Ilaria, feet." She motioned with her pointer and Ilaria just rose a brow. Fairy Godmother watched her with a frown. "You know you're on your last strike, Ilaria. After this, there is no more, and you go back to the Isle―︎which your aunt does not want."

     Ilaria cocked her head to the side. "What if that's exactly what I want?"

     "Why would you want that?" Fairy Godmother asked, her frown deepening.

     "Well, why wouldn't I?" Ilaria asked, removing her feet from the desk and sitting up, bracing her arms on the desk. "I was born there, my mother is over there. I'm not wanted here, I'm not wanted there. The only difference is at least over there I'll be around people that won't expect me to dress up and flash a pretty smile and behave like a good little princess." She stood, pointing towards the door. "Can I go now?"

     The older woman sighed. "Yes, go on."

     Ilaria flashed a false smile. "Thanks." She quickly grabbed her bag that was red with silver spikes, tossing it over her shoulder and leaving the room. She walked down the halls, watching with amusement as people made way for her, quickly whispering in their friends ears as if she didn't know they were talking about her. She rolled her eyes.

     "Ria! Just the person I was looking for."

     Ilaria turned her head and this time a genuine smile pulled on her lips when she spotted Ben. "Hey, Ben." See, the thing was, Ilaria could be a really nice person. However, people never gave her the chance, saying cruel things to her, and in response Ilaria was cruel back. But Prince―︎soon to be King―︎Ben had never once treated her with such cruelty. He was the first friend she ever made. "What's up?"