Chapter Text
maybe open ur peanut sized brains 2 what shes sayin. btw u soggy sack of walnuts dont bring slurs in2 this discussion. it is completely unnecessary like cmon.
Rosabella looks at the forum post with something like love. fangs_fur_justice has been her most stalwart and most vocal supporter since her second year at Ever After High. They’re not in every thread she participates in, nor are they in every thread she makes, but Rosabella appreciates that they make an effort to show they care about her and animals in general.
Her most recent thread-- Why Faux Fur Is A Better Alternative --has a mostly positive response. For a school as fashion oriented as Ever After High, Rosabella has been honestly expecting a backlash the size of a tidal wave to hit her. She’s spent the last few days checking her inbox with a squeamish mix of anxiety and courage, digging deep into herself for reserves of strength. To say that nine out of ten comments are hits of ‘I totally agree!’ or ‘ hexcellent point! ’ is a surprise to her is equivalent to saying that Faybelle Thorn sort-of-likes her destiny. A massive understatement.
It makes her grin, until an anonymous user who only titles their submissions with a rude gesture of an emoji comes in to ruin it. Again. She’s tried blocking them but they keep slipping into her threads. A tech-savvy troll with too much time on their hands, and a goal to make her utterly miserable before Beast Training and Care.
Her email dings with a notification. Rosabella refreshes the page.
Art thou mad, brethren? We’re allowed to have opinions too, you know. If the animals are too dumb to get out of the way of my gun, then I earned their pelts. If little miss Rebel Furry has a problem, then she’d better tell the animals to get smarter. And if her little groupies like you have a problem, then fight me, lol.
Rosabella grinds her jaw so hard it hurts . Insults to herself she can take, but this is crossing a line. She’s about to hit block--and give the troll the satisfaction of ‘cracking under pressure’ again--when there’s another response.
It’s just a picture of a dumpster, specifically of the dumpster behind the Marsh Pit before Duchess Swan closed the book on it. All slime and goo and gunk, running over the rusted rim of a dented old thing; Rosabella wants to puke just from the sight. fangs_fur_justice only has this to say:
found ur house but ur not here??? thought u were rdy for an a**kicking.
Despite the anger simmering under her skin, Rosabella barks out a startled laugh. It might not be the most Princess-y thing to laugh at an unkind comment (even toward an unkind party) but Rosabella considers herself an activist first, and a princess second.
Her phone buzzes with the ten minute warning alarm, and although she aches to reply she simply blocks the anonymous user. Before she closes her computer, she does give fangs_fur_justice a like.
She checks the thread again at lunch, Cerise and Darling on either side of her. It hasn’t gotten any more traction yet--aside from a couple of people commenting ‘nice’ to fangs_fur_justice for the wicked burn--which is a little disappointing. Her threads tend to die out soon after the anonymous user comes in to hassle her, which is why she has to create so many new threads on the student forum.
“Are you okay?” Darling’s soft voice pierces through the tired veil of her thoughts. “I saw what happened on the thread this morning. I can’t stand how they keep picking fights with you!”
“Well, it’s the Mirrornet,” Rosabella says, taking off her glasses to massage the bridge of her nose. “I’m not an admin on that forum, so there’s only so much I can do…”
“It’s harassment.” Cerise growls. “The coward , can’t even bother to own up to it!”
“It’s--well, it’s not alright , but I can deal.” Rosabella doesn’t have to try for a smile, looking fondly at her phone. “Someone’s got my back.”
Her aura is pink and wispy, swirling with gold and shedding like rose petals. It’s entirely unprofessional to have a crush on your loudest supporter, but they’ve gone and send her a private message asking u ok?? dont listen to that idiot. its gonna be ok. i got u so she’s on the hook. She can’t help it! She knows very little about fangs_fur_justice, but they’re protective to a fault, knowledgeable and kind, and passionate about forest conservation. How can she not crush over all that?
Suddenly, Cerise’s aura goes an alarmed yellow, rigid and rising like the fur of a cat. “Uh oh.”
Rosabella looks up just as she hears a canine snarl of rage. Ramona Badwolf stands over a cowering Ugly Ducking, flashing her fangs in the face of Fierté LeGume--son of Monsieur Gaston . Her story’s most avid admirer and its antagonist; or he was, until claiming to go Rebel. Personally, Rosabella doesn’t believe that; Fierté’s aura is always a sickly green of envy or jaundice yellow depending on who he’s speaking to. He wouldn’t have the guts to go Rebel for real.
“ Nobody cuts in front of me,” Ramona stands straight and tall, a good three inches taller than him.
“But Duckling was saving this spot for me.” Fierté smiles like a sneer. “She was even going to buy me lunch.”
Rosabella makes to stand, her eyes straining. Ugly purple clouds around him; a lie, as if poor Ugly Duckling’s shivering form isn’t signal enough. The poor thing’s going to be trampled if she doesn’t act soon!
Ramona growls louder, students backing away from her. Rosabella goes breathless as she registers the colors. The silhouette of her aura is shaped like a wolf--predictably--but it’s colored a deep forest green. Protective. She takes a step forward with great care to Duckling, stabbing her knuckle against Fierté’s chest and his throat bobs.
“If you’re gonna lie to a Badwolf, at least make sure you can do it right . You stink like the unicorn stables, LeGume.”
“It’s my word against yours.” Fierté grits his teeth. “And who’d believe a slobbery, mangy mutt, anyway?!”
Cerise’s aura goes bright red with anger, and Darling’s flares, incensed. Rosabella is three seconds away from storming over herself to give Fierté LeGume a piece of her mind. Cerise and Darling would back her up, she knows it; between the three of them they could have LeGume in pieces.
But of course they aren’t needed.
Ugly Duckling makes a sobbing, pathetic little noise; Ramona’s eyes flash gold and she grips the front of his shirt, hauling him up off the ground with a single arm. Students gasp and the lunch-lady scrambles to inform Headmaster Grimm.
Still, her aura never wavers in color. Rosabella expects it to turn fire carriage red, or mottled magenta for fury, wrath. But it stays as green as a forest’s canopy; she doesn’t think Ramona is even bothered by the insult.
Fierté’s aura, however, goes neon yellow and he kicks his legs, sputtering with fear. “W-wait, wait a second, hold on--let’s just talk this out--”
Ramona curls her lips off of her fangs, her claws tearing into the fabric of Fierté’s designer Marco-Polo shirt. “ Look at you. You’re all talk, no substance. Can’t even back your words up with any action; this must be pretty embarrassing for you. ”
He swings his legs again, yelping. “P-Put me down, this, instant! You flea bitten, stupid dog!”
Ramona pretends to think, tapping a claw on her chin. “Hmm...I think it’s about time you went home, LeGume, and let the rest of us have lunch in peace.”
Fierté pales. “H-home, what do you--”
Ramona tosses him. The boy goes sailing through the air, voice shrieking in an octave that would make Meeshell Mermaid jealous. People scream and scatter away just as he lands loudly in the community trashcan. The lid falls down heavily, trapping him.
“Tell your dad I said hi!” Ramona laughs viciously. When she turns around to Ugly Duckling, her aura goes soft and warm, as gold as her eyes. She crouches slowly, offering a palm. “C’mon, nerd. Looks like we get free lunch.”
Ugly Duckling quacks, tears dripping off her little bill as she hops aboard. Ramona takes the greatest care to put her up to the counter to let her gather her lunch; she even hovers close by for a moment, glaring hard at anyone getting close, making sure Duckling’s tray is completely full of birdseed before gathering up a huge burger for herself. Ramona adds a half pint carton of milk that makes her nose wrinkle with disgust, and a glass of soda.
Fierté manages to pry open the lid of the garbage can, gagging. “You utter brute ! Rest assured, my father’s going to hear about this! So help me Grimm, I’m going to make you pay-- ”
Ramona slices open the milk with one claw, and pours it over his head. “You’re still in time out.” She forces the lid shut again with a smirk, to the applause of the villain’s table. LeGume isn’t as popular as he likes to think he is. Rosabella feels a laugh bubble in her throat, and Ramona’s ears twitch before snapping to her direction.
Ramona’s aura flares bright pink. Rosabella stops looking at her aura in the second heartbeat, feeling her own face heat with shock. It’s rude to know that someone has a crush on you just by looking at their true colors.
On me? Rosabella feels dizzy. Oh, man.
Darling waves. “Ramona! Come sit with us.”
The girl in question hesitates, and she doesn’t move towards them until Rosabella calls, “Please!”
Ramona huffs, kicking backwards to send the trashcan with Fierté LeGume spinning down the aisle on its wheels and she stomps her way over. Ugly Duckling waddles behind her as fast as her little webbed feet can take her.
“She’s sitting over here too, I guess ,” Ramona sighs, like it’s an inconvenience to her very existence, but she noticeably slows her pace and gives Darling a look that tacks an invisible or else to her statement.
“I don’t have a problem with that,” Rosabella says with a smile as Ramona drops her tray onto the table and slouches into her seat with no grace. Cerise goes oddly tense and Rosabella feels a little bit guilty; she isn’t sure how Cerise and Ramona will get along, being hero and villain after all. If Ramona notices, she doesn’t say anything; instead she reaches down and carefully picks up Ugly Duckling to set her on the table, too.
“Thank you, Ramona,” Duckling says, her voice thick and clogged with tears. “That was very, very brave.”
“ Shut up .” Ramona grumps, gnawing on her fries. “He cut me in line, and I’m hungry. He was an idiot to get in my way.”
“It was pretty heroic is what it was,” Darling says with a sly giggle.
Ramona glares. “Gross. I don’t care that you guys don’t want to follow your destiny, not my business , but I do and I’m not a hero .”
“You didn’t have to pick me up and make sure I got to eat first, though,” Ugly Duckling comments shyly, pecking at her meal. Ramona responds by taking an incredibly huge bite of her burger. It isn’t the steam from her lunch that has her cheeks turning red, that much Rosabella knows. “I think you’re just really nice!”
Cerise coughs into the palm of her hand. It almost sounds like you don’t have to live with her.
Ramona swallows her bite, wipes her mouth politely, and looms over Ugly Duckling with a growl. “I could eat you for a snack, pipsqueak. I’m not nice .”
“Well, you were nice to me.” Duckling smiles. “It doesn’t happen to me a lot, so I’ve learned to recognize niceness when it does!”
“...Yeah. Well.” Ramona backs off, looking all the more awkward for it. “I. I mean, I guess. Maybe a little bit nice, or. Whatever.”
“I thought it was excellent,” Rosabella says. Ramona sits up straight, eyes wide. “I don’t agree with violence being the answer, but…” Her voice lowers to a whisper. “LeGume really was asking for it. He was totally harassing Duckling for her lunch money, wasn’t he?”
“Yeah,” Duckling wilts, her sparse feathers drooping. “Like I said...people aren’t really nice to me. It’s all ‘cause’a my story. But that’s okay! I just gotta tough it out, and then I’ll be a pretty swan. And there’s people like Ramona, who’ll look out for me!”
“I-I never said that!” Ramona stammers, hunching her shoulders almost like she’s cowering away from a creature as big as her hand. “I’m not your babysitter! This was, uh, a one, one time thing, got that?!”
Rosabella rests her chin in her hands. What a terrible liar.
The next morning is a pensive one. Ramona Badwolf has a crush on her.
Rosabella isn’t sure how she feels about that yet. A little guilty, yes, because she’s sure that she’s not supposed to know that, but the thought doesn’t sit wrong with her. It’s definitely different from the feeling she gets when she knows creeps like Sparrow Hood or Fierté LeGume like her. Maybe because Ramona hasn’t been hounding her down for a date.
She sighs all the same as she gets ready for the day. She does feel a little sorry for Ramona; Rosabella has a prince waiting for her at the end of the story, and in the meantime she’s crushing hard on fangs_fur_justice. None of that leaves a lot of room for a Big Bad Wolf. Rosabella decides that she’s going to do her best to keep their interactions as platonic as she possibly can. She doesn’t want to lead Ramona on, and she doesn’t want to invade her privacy any more than she already has.
Beast Training and Care isn’t the most popular class--only ten students attend Professor Bear’s lectures. There were more at the beginning of the year, but they dropped the class once they realized that their teacher wasn’t going to be bringing in fantastic beasts every week; it’s more theory than practice. Rosabella loves that, though; it’s a treat to be able to handle the animals, yes, but she’s more worried about their safety than her own feelings. Education is more important than being able to pet something.
However, the class is on edge when she walks in; Ramona in particular keeps shifting, her nose scrunching and ears twitching back and forth. Her aura reads as restless energy . Not quite scared, but certainly apprehensive. Rosabella looks to the door of Professor Bear’s office as she takes a seat close--but not next to--the tense girl.
“What’s going on?”
“Something not good.” Ramona’s hackles rise an inch. “Not dangerous to us, but not good .”
The door opens. Rosabella sits up straighter as Professor Poppa Bear walks in…
...with a puppy. At least, it’s a puppy based on what Rosabella knows about proportions and how fur grows in; the creature's about the size of a full grown, medium breed dog.
Hunter sucks in a breath and the tiniest whimper escapes his throat. Blondie has her Mirrorphone out and on record, her feet bouncing beneath her desk. Ramona shakes in her seat, tension coming and releasing in soft, electric blue waves. Her jawline works, like she’s grinding her teeth, and her lips are thinned into a hard line; then Rosabella realizes she’s staring at Ramona’s mouth and looks back at the front before she can be caught.
“Settle yourselves, class.” Professor Bear’s voice is as grizzly as he is. “We’ve been given a great honor here at Ever After High, and I want to make sure you all understand the gravity of what I’m about to say. Who here knows what I have in my arms right now?”
“A direwolf.”
Ramona’s voice is a rasp of anger. Rosabella turns to look at her again, startled.
“Where’s the mother?” Ramona asks next. “A mother wouldn’t leave her pups unattended for us to carry around unless--”
Professor Bear’s ears droop. Ramona’s eyes close with pain. Rosabella slowly slides into the seat next to her, and puts a hand against her arm. The hard knot of muscle that makes up her bicep is a surprise--Ramona is built much like her father, broad shouldered and bottom heavy--but to feel the evidence of that strength is another matter. Rosabella hesitates to look at her aura and when she does she finds teal sorrow pressing against her fingers. Ramona shakes under her touch; Rosabella has never been so thoroughly arrested in such a short time.
It makes sense, though. Of course Ramona, of all of them, would feel the death of a direwolf so keenly.
“But,” Blondie starts, hesitantly, her voice cracking. “But I thought direwolves were endangered. And protected because of that.”
“So sure that it was a hunter that did it?” Professor Bear shifts the whimpering pup in his arms before he sighs. “But you’re correct. Direwolves are near extinction, and there are many restrictions placed onto the forests that have been set up for their conservation. Poachers, however, believe they are outside of the law.”
The fury wells up in Rosabella’s stomach like acid.
“The criminal was put in Southstairs soon after he tried to brag about his kill,” Professor Bear growls after, which lessens the tension in the classroom only by a hair. Southstairs Correctional Facility is usually where the worst of the worst are sent. The Evil Queen’s new mirror is housed in one of its high security rooms, last Rosabella heard. It isn’t enough for her, though. The hunter probably got the maximum fine--over hundreds of thousands in gold--but the maximum amount of time in Southstairs will only be a year, maybe two.
Professor Bear continues, “The litter was brought to us, as we were closest with the available resources, and I believe that watching over these pups would be a great benefit. For them, and for all of you.”
Diamanda Keyskin, daughter of the Donkeyskin princess, shyly raises her hand. “Wouldn’t actual professionals be better suited though, professor? Won’t they just become docile if we handle them?”
“Direwolves are smarter than anyone gives them credit for,” Professor Bear replies evenly. “As am I. I wouldn’t have suggested our class handle them if I thought we would pose a danger to the litter.”
“Besides,” Ramona interjects, “you can’t really tame a direwolf. They choose if they’re yours or if they’re not.”
Professor Bear leads them into his office after that. Every professor’s office is magically enchanted to be impossibly larger than it appears, a brand of hammerspace magic that originated in Wonderland. The floor is soft, dusty earth and a loamy smell fills Rosabella’s nose. It reminds her of the forest, and with all of the furniture done in old wood only adds to the appeal. Shelves covered in trinkets, old brass devices that Rosabella has only seen in old history books; a black iron stove and a stack of logs close by. A home away from home, if she ever saw one.
The only thing that looks out of place in a professor’s office (aside from the stove, of course) is the inclusion of fenced off area. Rosabella’s heart utterly shatters when she sees the rest of the litter curled up in a pile, pressing as far away from them as they’re able to. When Professor Bear lowers the fifth pup in, they scamper to their siblings.
She’s never been more proud of the class on a whole as everyone keeps their distance, recognizing that they’re not wanted.
“They’re…” Blondie’s voice is soft. “They’re scared of us, Professor.”
“You’re human,” Ramona says gruffly. “The last thing they know about humans is that they killed their mother.”
What should be a reprimand is softened by Ramona reaching out, and putting a hand on Blondie’s head.
“They’re smart, though. And still young. They won’t be afraid of you for long.”
“Ms. Badwolf is correct,” Professor Bear rumbles, moving toward the stove with a bag of powdered formula in his paws. “This is why I thought it was important that you all work with the litter, help to teach them that humans on a whole are not a threat to them. They already know that humans with guns are dangerous; you have to teach them the rest. Ms. Lockes, will you come here, please? I trust your judgement on getting this formula...just right.”
“The poor things,” Rosabella whispers as Blondie moves to the stove at a careful pace as instructed. “They still needed to nurse--and that hunter just--!”
Ramona’s hand lands on her head, this time. “Be angry later. Focus on the litter. They don’t need angry humans right now.”
Rosabella forces herself to relax. It helps a little that Ramona’s aura bleeds yellow orange, gold braided against the lupine silhouette that roils off of her shoulders. She’ll catch a flash or two of outraged crimson, hinting that Ramona is struggling to take her own advice. The fact that everyone is banding together now, against the cruelty of the past, does wonders to soothe her nerves. Too often Rosabella feels like she’s shouting into the void. At least, in this, she isn’t.
“Just right,” Blondie murmurs, ladeling the finished milk into huge, plastic bottles. “I just...wish this situation were the same.”
“Don’t we all, Ms. Lockes,” Professor Bear says, patting her on the back. “Now, to start, I’m assigning you partners. Pair by pair you’re going to get into the pen and let the litter interact with the two of you at their leisure. Be patient; be calm. It’s what the little ones need right now.”
“Absolutely, sir,” Rosabella says.
He gives her a smile, and nods. “Ms. Beauty, Ms. Badwolf, you’ll be working together.”
Oh, no. Rosabella stops looking at auras, not wanting to see if Ramona’s encouraging golds will burst into vivid pinks. This is precisely the sort of situation she wanted to avoid , but Ramona doesn’t really...react, outside of a low release of breath and a clipped, “Yes, sir.”
“Pick up a bottle each, then step over the gate. Slowly, now.”
“Let me get in first,” Ramona asks. “Dad showed me a few tricks.”
Rosabella looks up, startled. “You’ve worked with direwolves before?”
“The Badwolf estate’s right by a reservational forest. We’ve got permits to take care of the packs.” She shrugs loosely. “Wolves look out for wolves.”
It’s said so simply that it’s almost like Ramona doesn’t care much for the jarring insinuation that she doesn’t consider herself a human first and a wolf second. Maybe she really doesn’t , Rosabella realizes. Ramona has always seemed so distant from the rest of them, more easily inclined to overstep boundaries.
Ramona Badwolf shrugs off negative opinions without a second thought, keeps to herself...unless she’s helping someone smaller. Rosabella thinks about lunch, about how carefully Ramona interacted with Ugly Duckling; she decides that Ramona isn’t as big and bad as everyone else thinks she is.
It’s... cute .
“Follow me slowly, alright?” Ramona moves to the pen, swings one leg over the metal, and then the other. Then she lowers herself to sit on the floor. The pups cower; Ramona blinks slowly, breathes deeply, and lets it out as a low, growly, “ Boof. ”
Silence.
"Boof. Boof."
The litter’s ears all collectively perk. The shaking slowly ceases. Ramona keeps her eyes on them, but waves Rosabella in. The puppies start to whine and quiver when Rosabella gets close, but Ramona keeps up those soft noises and it almost seems to relax them. By the time Rosabella sits like Ramona does--uncaring if the dirt ruins her dress--they seem to be thoroughly confused, and scared.
“You do it, too.” Ramona murmurs. “Let it--let it pop out of your chest. Boof .”
Rosabella looks back. The class stares at her. Rosabella turns to look at the litter and tries her very best to quietly, “ Boof ,“ back. It sounds significantly less impressive than Ramona’s, but to her relief it seems to have the same effect. The pups stare at her too, ears forward. They’ve stopped whining.
Rosabella does it again. “ Boof. ” One of them cocks their head to the side.
“That’s perfect,” Ramona murmurs. “Softer. Like a whisper.” She reaches back for one of the bottles that Professor Bear hands her and slowly puts it in Rosabella’s hand. “Keep it up.”
It’s feels a little silly, for the two of them to make noises at terrified puppies, but Rosabella watches it start to work . One pup--the bravest of the whole lot, the biggest, and probably the oldest--pries themself free of the pile and slowly creeps close. Rosabella doesn’t move; Ramona lets out an encouraging noise through her teeth, rolling the sound around in her throat. She takes Rosabella’s hand, palm up, and drips three drops of milk against the tips of her fingers. Rosabella holds it out to the animal, her mouth dry.
The pup sniffs her, then takes a cautious lick against the milk. “ Boof ,” Rosabella whispers.
That bright yellow gaze darts to the milk bottle in her hand, then to Rosabella. She pulls her hand back, slow and steady, shakes out a bit more of the formula, then offers it again.
Ramona makes the noise again. And Rosabella sees it happen, the first cautious wag of a tail, and she smiles . She offers the bottle nipple first this time, and the pup sniffs at it before latching on. Soft, achy little whines escape and Ramona coaches her to make another noise, now.
“Like, a little one. Rrr . Soft. Kind of like you’re asking it.”
Rosabella does, quirking her voice up higher. The tail wagging increases and the pup actually starts to move closer still, until they’re halfway into her lap. Rosabella’s breath catches in her chest; she looks at Ramona in something like a panic, unsure of what to do.
“You’re a provider right now,” Ramona murmurs. “He’s choosing to trust you. Start talking.”
“Okay,” Rosabella whispers, and the pup pulls harder at the bottle. “That’s it. Who’s a good boy...who’s a good little guy?”
His ears flick back and forth as she whispers soft praises, but he doesn’t move away from her. She brings up the hand he’s licked and shows it to him, careful to telegraph each move. He doesn’t flinch away from his meal and lets her brush her hand against his silky back, his little tail a blur behind him. He empties the bottle soon and she lifts her hand away, thinking that he’s going to move for his siblings again, but he startles her out of her head when he climbs over her legs and lap, curling his big, warm body against her side.
He yips to his siblings, who have watched closely. Two more pups come crawling forward, one gravitating to Ramona and the other dragging itself to Rosabella, eyes wide.
“Boof,” she tries. The puppy’s tail wags slowly.
Professor Bear hands them both bottles again, and Rosabella repeats the slow process of letting the pup pace their own feeding, letting them trust her. It doesn’t take as long, thanks to helpful little chuffs from the sated leader still pressed against her side, and soon she has a lapful of direwolf. Ramona’s little champion lays between them, alternating between pressing their head against Ramona’s hip and licking Rosabella’s elbow. The last two are quick to follow once the last bottles are offered, and Rosabella doesn’t even have to make noises at them to get their tails whipping back and forth.
“Rosabella!” She looks over, and sees Blondie pointing her Mirrorphone at her. “Aww, this is gonna be the cutest segment on my Mirrorcast!”
She scratches behind one of the pup’s ears. “Do you think we could turn that into a talk about direwolf conservation--”
“Oh, absolutely . I was going to ask if you help me talk about that anyway.” Blondie crouches to get a shot of the direwolves, who haven’t scattered at her getting close, grinning. “I’ll send you the video and we can interview tomorrow.”
Blondie sends the video later that night. True to her word, the video is absolutely adorable . Rosabella watches herself feed and make noises at the pups, watches as they follow by example and take a chance to be close to her.
Then she gets distracted. The camera focuses on her, yes, but she watches Ramona in the back. Ramona, who stares at her like she’s hung the very stars in the sky, but says nothing. Despite herself, despite everything she told herself this morning, Rosabella feels her heart start to race and heat prickles her cheeks. No one has ever looked at her so intensely, so consumingly.
Ramona has such...big, blue eyes.
Rosabella closes the video, shuts off her Mirrorphone, and tries to go to sleep.