Darling: You can’t be allergic to armor.

Darling wasn’t so sure. When he was a little boy, Dexter had been allergic to cat dander, golden goose feather pillows, and pixie pollen. Fortunately, a round of royal allergy shots had cured him.

Dexter: It has to be an allergy. My nose got stuffy the second I put on the breastplate and backplate.

Darling: It’s just a coincidence.

If her brother was indeed allergic to armor, the quintessential outfit for a hero, he’d never live it down.

Darling: You’re probably catching a cold.

Dexter: Maybe.

He sneezed a third time.

Dexter: But whether I’m sick or not, I’ll still be a total failure at jousting. I’m liable to ride in the wrong direction, or worse—skewer an innocent bystander!

He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

Though Darling knew her brother’s face by heart, she was always surprised when he removed his glasses. When it came to piercing eyes, Dexter Charming reigned supreme. It wasn’t just the rich blue color, or the lashes as thick as paintbrushes—the eyes themselves sparkled. They twinkled. They were simply to die for. But there was one slight flaw, and this was discovered on the day he learned to crawl.

Dexter became the first Charming to wear glasses. They’d become as much a part of him as his arms and legs. They’d enhanced his life. But now, with a jousting tournament on the horizon, the glasses were proving to be an impediment.

He plucked another buttercup from the field.

Dexter: The helmet is standard issue. I have to wear it. But the faceplate wasn’t designed for glasses. And you know I can’t wear contacts.

It was true. Dexter’s eyes were so sensitive, if a speck of dust or stray eyelash got into one of them, it could only be removed by a puff of fairy breath. It was quite an ordeal.

Darling: Why not have a new helmet designed to fit over your glasses?

She’d had her workout suit tailored for her exact measurements.

Darling: Then it will fit you perfectly.

Dexter: That’s impossible. Parents Weekend is in a few days. There’s not enough time.

He sneezed again.

Darling pursed her lips. She’d long ago learned an important lesson—there was always a way to wrestle with the impossible. If not allowed to climb in public, simply climb when everyone else is asleep. If not allowed to gallop, then pretend your horse took you off course and gallop as soon as you’re out of sight.

And if something doesn’t fit, mold it to your own specifications.

As she wondered who might be able to help with such short notice, Dexter slowly got to his feet.

Dexter: I’m so glad Mom and Dad aren’t coming. It’s going to be bad enough having all the other parents watch me fall off my horse.

He brushed a few blades of grass off his chain mail tunic.

Darling’s MirrorPhone buzzed.

Darling: Uh-oh.

She scrambled to her feet.

Darling: It’s a group hext from Mom.

She showed the screen to Dexter, and they groaned at the same time.

Dearest Charming children,

We have rescheduled our Mermaid cruise.

See you on Parents Weekend.

Dexter: And I thought the day couldn’t get any worse. Why can’t I be in a chess match for Parents Weekend? Or a gaming competition? I’m good at those things. Why do we even have to joust? The only people who joust these days are those weird old knights from Wonderland… or people who get summer jobs in theme parks.

Darling: We could trade.

She soon found herself with a devious smile.

Darling: I’ll joust, and you’ll go to Damsel-In-Distressing.

He smiled back.

Dexter: Mom would faint if she heard you say that.

They shared a laugh. Then Darling straightened her skirt and rearranged her tiara.

Darling: Since Mom and Dad are coming for Parents Weekend, we’ll have to be on our best Charming behavior, and that means you have to get ready for this joust.

She picked up her brother’s helmet.

Darling: Let’s go get this fixed.

Dexter took the helmet, sneezing again, before rubbing his nose.

Dexter: But, where will we go to get it fixed?

Darling thought about it before she taped on her MirrorPhone. She then found your contact and sent a hex.

The Village of Book End was a short walk from campus. Dexter found that it was easier to wear the suit of armor than to carry all the pieces, even if it meant extra sneezes. But Darling insisted on holding the helmet.

She liked the feel of the metal in her hands. If she’d had a moment to herself, she would have slipped it over her head. But that would be very unbecoming for a Charming princess. Besides, the helmet wasn’t designed to fit over a tiara any more than it was designed to fit over glasses.

Book End was a quaint village, set along a cobbled, meandering street. Some shops, such as the Mad Hatter of Wonderland’s Haberdashery & Tea Shoppe and the Beanstalk Bakery, looked as if they’d come straight out of a storybook, while others, like the Glass Slipper Shoe Store and the Hocus Latte Café, had a much more modern appeal.

Though a walk to the village was a welcome break from school, Darling didn’t go very often. While many of the boys on the school campus had grown used to seeing her and had learned she wasn’t going to marry any of them, she was still a novelty to many of the local village boys.

Dexter: Here we go.

Dexter sarcastically rolled his eyes as a boy stuck his head out of the Red Shoes Dance Club.

Boy: I love your family!

He had a woozy look spreading across his face.

Darling: Don’t worry! You’ll get over it.

She’d been thinking about ordering cards with that phrase so she could hand them out as needed. Another boy ran out of the bakery and thrust a slice of red-velvet cheesecake at her.

Boy: For you, Charming princess! Will you marry me?

Dexter stepped protectively between his sister and the panting boy.

Dexter: My sister isn’t marrying anyone. And she’s not eating that—she’s lactose-intolerant!

The lactose part wasn’t true, but it was a polite way to get rid of the boy.

They walked a few more paces, then Dexter came to an abrupt stop. Darling assumed he was about to protect her from another suitor, but his gaze was fixed on a girl. She was at a coffee stand, ordering a drink. Her black hair was pulled into a long braid, and her purple boots were laced up to her knees.

Dexter: Raven.

Raven Queen, daughter of the infamous Evil Queen, was one of the best-known students on campus, not only because of her lineage but also because she was credited with having started the whole “Rebel” trend. She’d refused to sign the Storybook of Legends and had torn out her page, which meant that she’d refused to accept and commit herself to her prewritten destiny. She also began to publicly question her destiny. Some of the students respected her, but others were critical.

Darling thought Raven was courageous.

And Dexter clearly thought she was much more than that. He looked as love-struck as the boy with the piece of cheesecake.

Darling: Dex?

Raven had collected her drink and was sitting at a table with some other students.

Darling: Dex?

Still no answer. He finally responded when he felt a hand knock on the metal that covered his shoulder. Metal on metal, a hook.

Dexter: Huh?

Y/N: You’re staring.

Dexter: I am?

He gulped.

You nodded as you fully stepped into their view. Another boy stepped out from the shadows to try and confess his love for Darling, but you shot him a single look that made him turn around and run off to wherever he had came from.

Darling: Come on.

She gave you a little push to get you walking again. She then turned to Dexter.

Darling: Of all the people to be crushing on, you choose the daughter of the Evil Queen.

She shook her head and laughed.

Dexter: I know, I know. Mom and Dad would royally freak out if they knew.

Darling: Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.

They both then looked at you. You just grinned.

Y/N: I won't tell if you don't.

You turned down a narrow street. Dexter’s armored foot coverings, or sollerets, clanged on the cobblestones. Since neither of the Charming siblings had been to the blacksmith’s shop, they had asked you for directions.

Y/N: See that trail of smoke?

You pointed to the end of the lane.

Y/N: That’s the place.

Dexter: Thanks.you looked to Darling.

Y/N: You okay carrying that? It’s kind of heavy.

Darling: I’m fine.

Unbeknownst to her brother, she could have carried the helmet all day and wouldn’t have strained a single muscle, thanks to all those push-ups and chin-ups. You just figured it was polite to ask.

You reached the end of the lane and stood outside a warehouse-style building with red metal siding. A black chimney pipe stuck out of the silver metal roof. A thin tendril of smoke drifted from the pipe, gradually fading as it reached toward the sky. Silver vines grew up the sides of the building, but upon closer inspection, the vines turned out to be sculpted from sheets of aluminum. A bronze sign hung from the eave.

The Smithy

Darling: I guess that’s short for blacksmith.

Y/N: Yeah. But she's good, I promise.

The front door was cast from metal, with inlaid flames decorating the panels. You grabbed the wrought-iron handle. As you stepped inside, a hammering sound filled your ears.

The room was vast and filled with benches, power tools, and machinery stations. A brick hearth sat in the center of the room. A small flame flickered, glowing green, then blue—a sure sign that it had been born in a dragon’s mouth. A workstation was set up next to the hearth.

A woman sat there, perched on a tall stool. One of her hands held a pair of tongs, which gripped a red-hot piece of metal. The other hand held a huge hammer. She wore a leather apron, protective goggles, and headphones. Her hammering reverberated throughout the room.

Darling plugged her ears as Dexter shouted.

Dexter: Hello!

The woman didn’t notice.

Dexter: Hello!

Still, no reaction. Then he sneezed.

The woman looked up. She removed her headphones.

Smithy: Yes?

Dexter: Is the blacksmith here? I need some work done.

The woman set her project aside, then stood. Both Darling and Dexter craned their necks as they looked up at her. She wasn’t a giant, but she stood at least seven feet tall. Her hair hung in dozens of braids, each one as black as witch’s ink. Flame tattoos covered her bare arms, and a diamond sparkled on her left nostril.

She slid her goggles onto her forehead.

Smithy: I’m the smithy. Betty Bunyan’s the name.

Daing: Bunyan?

She glanced at a painting that hung on the wall. It was a portrait of a lumberjack who stood as tall as the trees surrounding him. He was dressed in a plaid shirt and dungarees, and he carried an ax over his shoulder.

Darling: You’re Paul Bunyan’s daughter?

Betty: Yep, that’s dear old Dad.

Then she pointed to another painting, which was almost identical except the lumberjack was younger in appearance.

Betty: And that’s my big brother, Paul Junior. Dad gave him an ax and taught him how to be a logger.

Her expression suddenly clouded.

Betty: I wanted an ax, too, but Dad said it was too dangerous. He said logging wasn’t for me.

She stood in silence for a moment, staring at the painting. The dragon flame flickered, reflecting off the metal ceiling. Darling recognized the yearning in Betty’s eyes.

Y/N: Hey, Bets.

Betty looked last the twins to see you by the swords, clearly browsing the selection.

Betty: Keep your pirting hands off my merchandise, Hook.

You gasped.

Y/N: Why, I bring you costumers and this is the thanks I get. Rude.

Betty and you shared a knowing look before you walked over to join them.

Darling: You could always buy yourself an ax.

Betty: Buy one?

Betty laughed.

Betty: I taught myself how to make one. And then I went my own way and opened this shop.

She punched Darling in the shoulder.

Betty: A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. Am I right?

Y/N: 100%. And no one does it better than you.

Darling: I wouldn’t really know about that.

Darling was trying to sound confused. Though she and Dexter were as close as peas in a pod, she still kept her workouts a secret from him. It wasn’t because she was worried he’d judge her—he would never do that. It was mostly because she didn’t want to put him in a position where he also had to keep a secret from their parents.

Betty pointed at Dexter’s chest.

Betty: Hey, I recognize the Charming crest. You must be Daring’s younger brother.

Dexter: Yes, I’m Dexter, and this is my sister, Darling.

He shook the smithy’s hand. Darling tucked the helmet under her left arm, then held out her right hand.

Betty: I didn’t know there was a sister.

Her grip was strong.

Betty: How come I’ve never heard of you?

Darling shrugged.

Darling: Charming girls aren’t as well known as Charming boys. According to my story, I’m not supposed to be a hero like my brothers. My destiny is to be rescued. Basically, that means I’m not supposed to do much but wait around.

Betty turned Darling’s hand over, exposing the palm.

Betty: You’ve got calluses. That’s not the sign of a girl who’s been waiting around.

Darling slid from Betty’s grip, then hid her hands behind her back. The calluses had come from climbing. No matter how much lotion she used, they wouldn’t go away. Darling gulped. She wasn’t sure what to say.

Betty’s gaze traveled between brother and sister. She looked at you to see you gesturing for her to stop. Then, as she looked at Darling once more, her gaze filled with understanding.

Betty: My mistake. It’s my hands that have the calluses. Yours are as soft as a princess’s hands should be.

She turned back to Dexter.

Betty: Looks like you got banged up a bit. Whatcha been doing?

Dexter: It’s my first day in armor.

Betty: Your first day?

She laughed.

Betty: You got that many dents and dings on your first day? I’ve never seen a dent on your brother’s armor. He brings it in once a week for a buff and polish. It’s always perfect. Not a scratch.

Y/N: Some things aren't genetic, you know? Dex here has the brains, but not so much the brawn.

Dexter looked down at the floor. Once again, he was being reminded of his brother’s superiority. Darling could practically feel his pain.

Y/N: But, Dex is just as strong and able as Daring.

Dexter: No, I’m not.

Y/N: Yes, you are. Only you’re strong in other areas. You always help me with crownloading new apps, and you always help tutor Daring in Crownculus.

Dexter lowered his gaze.

Dexter: Gee, thanks, Y/N.

Darling: But this has nothing to do with strength or intelligence.Dex’s armor is dented because he can’t see where he’s going. His faceplate won’t fit over his glasses.

Betty examined the helmet.

Betty: These old-fashioned helmets weren’t designed for glasses. I’d have to make a brand-new one for you.

Dexter: That would be great. I need it right away. I’m supposed to be in a jousting tournament this weekend.

Betty: I can’t make you a new helmet that quickly.

She pointed to her workstation.

Betty: I’ve got a big order of MirrorPhone covers for the Ever After High Bookstore.

The covers were scattered across a worktable. Each bore the initials EAH.

Betty: But I can probably get out those dents and give the suit a good polish. Go ahead and leave it on that bench. You can pick it up tomorrow.

Dexter: Okay.

He adjusted his glasses, then wandered over to the bench and began removing the armor. He looked deflated, as if he’d already failed the tournament. As if he could already see King Charming’s disappointed face.

Darling chewed on her lower lip. MirrorPhone covers were definitely not as important as her brother’s sense of pride. She motioned Betty aside, then spoke in a lowered voice.

Darling: If my brother Dare were standing here, asking you to make a new helmet, would you find time for him?

Betty didn’t answer, but she suddenly looked guilty.

Darling: Dex wants the opportunity to prove to everyone that he’s just as good as Dare. That he’s a champion, too.

Y/N: You recall your upbringing, don't you?

Betty glanced over at the portrait of Paul Junior. Then she looked down at Darling.

Betty: What about you?

Darling: What about me?

Betty: Do you want the same opportunity that’s been given to your brothers?

Darling suddenly felt as if she could trust this woman. Betty hadn’t been given an ax, so she’d gone out and made one. She wasn’t the sort of person to sit around and wait.

Darling: Of course. With all my heart.

Betty Bunyan narrowed her eyes. Then she smiled.

Betty: Hey, Dexter.

Dexter: Yes?

He was standing in a T-shirt and shorts, the armor piled on the bench.

Betty: I’ll do my best to make that helmet for you. Come by tomorrow morning.

Dexter beamed.

Dexter: Thanks!

Darling smiled at Betty. She knew in her heart that she’d found a kindred spirit.

Y/N: I owe you one, Bets.

Betty: Nah. This one is on the house.