Grimm’s Good

By Gabrielle Iglesias

Whether it be in present-day society or in a magical world teeming with characters from all of your favourite characters growing up, everyone struggles with the idea of confirming to a certain norm. It doesn’t mean that something is tradition that it deserves to be a tradition for any longer, and this is something Winter comes to find as she struggles to learn what it means to be the future queen of a patriarchal kingdom.

Or for Prince Charmant, who comes to learn that love is love, and that a heart is never wrong, regardless of tradition and norms. Though these characters from our childhoods share the same appearances and stories, they now finally reflect the real struggles of everyday people, and portray a more diverse, and more complicated world, in which we all live and must learn to live in together.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Jun 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9781685624552

Gabrielle Iglesias

Fairy tales were instrumental to Gabrielle Iglesias’s childhood. Like many kids her age, she was exposed to countless interpretations of such stories in children’s books, television series, and movies. However, she always felt that there was a lack of modern inclusivity essential for raising future generations of socially aware, understanding, and compassionate young minds. Other than reading and writing, Gabrielle Iglesias has a passion for environmentalism, and is currently studying at Sciences Po, a French university, to become an international environmental attorney. 

Book preview

About the Author

Fairy tales were instrumental to Gabrielle Iglesias’s childhood. Like many kids her age, she was exposed to countless interpretations of such stories in children’s books, television series, and movies. However, she always felt that there was a lack of modern inclusivity essential for raising future generations of socially aware, understanding, and compassionate young minds. Other than reading and writing, Gabrielle Iglesias has a passion for environmentalism, and is currently studying at Sciences Po, a French university, to become an international environmental attorney.

Dedication

To my family and friends.

Copyright Information ©

Gabrielle Iglesias 2023

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher.

Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Ordering Information

Quantity sales: Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address below.

Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication data

Iglesias, Gabrielle

Grimm’s Good

ISBN 9781685624538 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781685624545 (Hardback)

ISBN 9781685624552 (ePub e-book)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023906495

www.austinmacauley.com/us

First Published 2023

Austin Macauley Publishers LLC

40 Wall Street 33rd Floor, Suite 3302

New York, NY 10005

USA

[e-mail]

[phone]

Acknowledgment

A huge thank you to my parents for encouraging me to read at a young age, to Anoushka Rakshit for always being so willing to read even the roughest of my rough drafts, to Mr. Schaub and Mr. Rossi for motivating me to never stop writing, to Austin Macauley Publishing for giving me this amazing opportunity, but especially to my grandpa, who is never without a book in his hand. Te quiero, Abuelo.

Chapter One

Skin as White as Snow

Winter

Winter sat cross-legged at the foot of her canopy bed, leaning slightly over a small book, its cover frayed and worn out from use. The front of the bed’s frame held the official crest of the royal family, a dove with its wings out, and a mahogany and silver checkered design in the background. The rest of her bedroom was simpler, she’d never been a fan of decorating. The only other substantial piece of furniture was a round, cherrywood table holding a woven basket filled to the brim with unopened letters from admirers who had ‘fallen in love’ with her. She could probably have guessed word-for-word what the letters all said. That, before having seen her, they hadn’t known what love was. Or how the radiant Sun paled in comparison. Each letter was as inauthentic as the other. She continued reading her book. When it came to books, however, her favorites were, without contest, the feminist novellas. Though, technically, it was forbidden to read such things in her kingdom, Winter couldn’t help herself. They inspired her more than any passionately worded confession of love ever could.

Besides, the Feminist Prohibition was an obsolete act that had been passed by one of her great, great grandfathers hundreds of years ago. Still, the novellas were a rarity to come by, and the availability of options was quite limited. She’d been forced to disguise herself on numerous occasions to sift through the shelves at black markets in search of them. Only last week was she able to find a real gem—one of the only existing copies written by the late French Queen Belle Chaumont, who’d been burned at the stake shortly after the publishing of her books for alleged witchcraft. Winter knew very little about it all, for it had occurred long before her time. What she did know was that the throne had later been passed on to King Henri Charmant, who was still king, and a political ally of the Fourth Kingdom. Winter read a bit more before marking her page and carefully storing the book underneath her mattress. One could never be too careful, after all. Even though she loved the servants of the palace like family, if anyone were to discover such treason lying around her room, it was probable that a fate as definite as Queen Belle’s would soon become her own.

Life in the palace could be mind-numbingly boring at times. In the mornings, Winter would go to the royal library for her three hour long tutoring sessions, then it was time for her usual twenty-minute stroll around the royal garden. After this, she had to depend on her imagination to get her through the remaining ten hours of the day. Fortunately for Winter, she had an excellent imagination. And, though Winter had never been great at math, she knew that adding excessive amounts of boredom with an infinite source of imagination could result in one thing and one thing only: Good ol’ fashioned delinquency. The scheming was her favorite part. Something about the planning and precision it took gave her enlivening bursts of adrenaline within her usual mundane days. She had a keen eye and could see what others chose to disregard.

Maybe it was this attention to the tiniest detail that would later make it difficult for Winter to see the forest for the trees. But one mustn’t blame her. No one could have possibly foreseen what fate had in store for the beautiful rebel.

Winter admired the soft baby blue of the sky above her. The clouds seemed to melt like whipped cream, and the cool wind made her suddenly wish for a hot tea. She stood near the drinking well of the palace’s courtyard, absentmindedly throwing pine cones into the water. From the corner of her eye, she saw a shadow poke out from behind her, and turned around. Her stepmother, Queen Beatrice. Winter offered her stepmother a warm smile and edged aside a little to make room for Beatrice to stand beside her.

Queen Beatrice had been good to Winter during the years following the death of her father. She’d consoled her and introduced to her the solace that only books could bring. Rumors were echoing throughout the kingdom about Beatrice, however, that she was a witch and a gold-digger. But what could Beatrice do? What could anyone do? A rumor was like a wildfire that simply could not be contained. Before Winter could throw another pine cone into the well, Beatrice’s hand gently stopped her.

Now, Winter. What good will that do to you, the pine cone, or the well? Remember what I taught you about utilitarianism? Beatrice would always raise questions like this for Winter to consider. One of the many subject matters Queen Beatrice was well-versed in was philosophy. Though philosophy, too, was a bit taboo, it had been she who had always urged Winter to think outside the box. Winter looked down at the pine cone, thinking the way she knew Beatrice wanted her to. Finally, without saying anything, Winter took the pine cone and planted it into the soil. She then drew some water from the well to sprinkle over the mound of dirt.

Beatrice smiled in approval. Interesting. Now, explain its correlation with utilitarianism. And in fully-formed sentences this time, if you don’t mind, dear.

Well, you taught me that utilitarianism was basically about serving the greater good, right? By planting this pine cone, there’s a good chance a pine tree will grow in its place. Creating a possibility for new life serves more lives, Winter looked up, I think?

Now, though there is more than one way to serve what we call the ‘greater good’, planting a tree is a wonderful idea. Queen Beatrice pointed at the other trees around the courtyard. Birds came and left to-and-fro to check on their nests, bees searched dutifully for pollen amongst the tiny white flowers nestled within the mess of leaves, squirrels scurried up and down trunks scrounging for nuts. Alright, Beatrice resumed speaking, That’s quite enough philosophy for one day, don’t you agree? I am proud of the woman you’ve become, Winter. In this world, women who depend on solely their looks to get by often get taken advantage of. I want you to understand this, and to learn and inquire as much as you can about this world of ours before you become an adult. I know you love your tutors, but the nonsense they teach is absurd. Do you truly think I needed to know how to balance books on my head or sing to birds when I became queen of this kingdom? When I struggle to maintain diplomacy with neighboring kingdoms, do you think I turn to shooting stars and the advice of tiny animals? What does a chipmunk know of diplomacy? Or a mouse of infrastructure? But there is nothing I can do to change any of this. Even if I were Empress of the Universe, I still couldn’t change the minds of those decrepit, old mossbacks. Winter snorted a laugh, and upon seeing this reaction, Queen Beatrice allowed herself a small smile. "But, frankly, dear, this kingdom is still stuck in the Stone Age. Our people are so dependent on wishful thinking and the help of some fairy godmother that for most of their lives, they just stare out the window, waiting, expecting everything to eventually work out for them in the end. Beatrice gave out a sigh, then remembered. Oh, Winter. I came here to tell you—nearly forgot what with all my blabbering—Sir…What’s-His-Name has come to ask your hand in marriage and whatnot. She gave her stepdaughter a hard stare. Please play nice." Winter tried to hide the grin that was starting to form.

"Of course. If he’s half as gentlemanly as they all say, there should be no problem! I should probably go down and reject him nicely now." Winter plopped her crown back on her head and made her way downstairs. Suitors were always coming from who knows where to ask her hand in marriage. All of the locals had already long learned that any attempts at seducing the princess were fruitless. Before entering the coronation room, she tried to mussy up her hair and peered into the cool, spotless glass of one of the hall mirrors. Seconds later, her curls popped back up again, perfect as ever.

As she sat down on her throne, just a couple feet away from her stepmother’s, Sir What’s-His-Name was led into the Coronation Room. He wore full armor and his chest and shoulders glittered with gold and crimson medals of achievement. He flashed the princess a charming smile, then kneeled. As was custom, he took her right hand and kissed her ring. Winter tried hard not to roll her eyes. She’d always hated this part. Then, one of the knight’s assistants unfurled a piece of parchment and exclaimed,

Behold, Your Majesty. My Master, Sir Bedivere of Camelot, Knight of the infamous Round Table, Protector of Our King Arthur, has come to ask for your Royal Hand in marriage! He wishes to bestow this gift to you as a token of gratitude for your warm hospitality. Sir Bedivere waved his assistant forward, and Winter was handed an ornate mirror. Another one.

This, Princess Snow White, is what all of Camelot knows as Merlin’s Mirror. Its worth is unnamable, such as your beauty is indescribable. Please take this from Sir Bedivere, your loyal and humble admirer. Winter nodded and placed the mirror gently on her knee. She opened her mouth to speak, but apparently, the assistant had not quite finished yet. We have also brought with us throughout this journey towards your magnificent kingdom…this. He showed her a golden comb. You see, Princess, this comb may not have any magical purpose, but the story behind it is worth hearing. We came across it after having defeated an impertinent ogre on a bridge. The monster had refused to let us cross, but it was no match for the brave Sir Bedivere. Afterwards, we discovered its cave, and inside there were treasures of all sorts! This comb, we knew, would be the perfect gift for a beautiful being such as yourself and S— Winter cleared her throat and put up a hand. The assistant shut his mouth in surprise.

Alright, thank you. Thank you, too, Sir Bedivere. Now, before I send you back to Shamelot or wherever you come from, I’d like to make something clear, she paused for dramatic effect, I, like many women I’m sure you’ve tried to seduce, am not obsessed with my looks. This may be hard to believe, but I like to spend my time doing things other than stare at mirrors and brush hair all day. Sir Bedivere looked like he wanted to interject, but Winter continued, The point is, there is more to us than our looks, and until you see that, the only people I would ever marry are me, myself, and I. Thank you. She placed a hand on Sir Bedivere’s shoulder as if to console him. A look of pure and utter shock was written all over his face, and his cheeks had become flushed, either from anger or embarrassment. Either way, Winter offered him a moment to regain his composure. Sir Bedivere gave her a single, heavy nod, then stormed off as quickly as he had come in. Winter gave the knight’s assistant a final glare and he scrambled away after his master. Once the two men had left, one of her ladies-in-waiting, Elizabeth Gander, burst out with laughter, and she laughed so hard that she had to hold on to the wall behind her for support. Winter rushed to help her, looking worriedly at her lady-in-waiting’s baby bump. Whoa, there, Liz. You’re going to pop a vein from all the laughing. Elizabeth chuckled for a few more seconds, replying finally,

Oh, Princess, yer’ really onuva’ kind. My, the look on that knight’s face near killed meh. But yer’ know, Princess Winter, that I love yer’ like a daughter, and seeing yer’ turn away so many prospects worries meh a little. Yer’ 19 years old! Why, when I was yer age, I was gettin’ ready to have me fifth child. Marty, me husband, Grimm rest his soul, had grey hair and wrinkles from all the worry havin’ a fifth child means. We were even plannin’ on movin’ out of that tired, old shoe he called a house. Winter nodded sympathetically. She’d visited their uniquely shaped home on several occasions when she could sneak away from the royal guards, and had attended every single christening. Elizabeth was only ten years older than Winter, but she was a tired widow with now a dozen children to take care of, and the exhaustion from never resting had taken its toll, aging her face and making her seem well more advanced in her seniority.

"You know, Liz, you just say the word and I could sell some of these gifts and send you the money. Or take a trip to the treasury. It would solve at least some of your problems. I mean, when am I going to need another mirror?"

"Oh, shush now, child. My problems are none of yer’ concern. You should werry about yer’ pretty little self and no