45 | A LITTLE WICKED
ON the Western border of the beloved Auradon sits a little old-fashioned town. Ghostburg was a misty place that rarely saw sunshine and was constantly clouded by a thick fog. It was a good length from the capitol and was mostly forgotten by many of the Auradon folk.
By technicality, this town would fall under the reign of Winter's Keep, an area which then fell under the hands of the Arendellian Kingdom. But because it was part of Winter's Keep, they would answer to King Frost and Queen Elsa—the Winterland spirits.
However, Ghostburg was true to its name in the sense that it was practically a ghost town. Barely anyone other than locals visited and for good reason, it was also the way the townsfolk liked it. They enjoyed their privacy from the outside lands.
It was the beginning of a cold and dewy morning, the sun barely beginning to peek over the crest of the Northern mountains. The town was just waking up, workers for small taverns arriving at their jobs, the roosters howling to the winds, and the eery fog getting even thicker as morning arrived.
On the outskirts of the town; however, was an oddity. A visitor.
The sound of a horse's hooves clicking on the cobblestone could just barely be heard in the silence. A large spotted steed, the color of a reverse dalmatian with feathered white hair at the ends of its strong legs was riding into town. Its thicket of a tail swung as it walked, and its rider was even more peculiar.
The figure of a female sat on top, a long and dark hood covering her facial features. Her clothes were black as her hood, her boots edged at the top with shimmering rhinestones. Long and pale fingers grasped the reigns of the horse, leading him toward the town.
The horse and rider were quick to pass by a faded wooden sign—the words "ɢʜᴏsᴛʙᴜʀɢ" written in all white paint. It was an entirely odd situation, an odd town being invaded by a peculiar and mysterious rider. And it could just barely be considered the morning.
As the rider officially enters the town, the click-clacking of the horse's hooves echoed louder over the cobblestone bridge they passed over to the town square. Ghostburg could be mistaken for a town stuck in the Victorian age if it was not for the small group of modern and well-dressed girls messing around by the fountain in the Townsquare.
Just one glimpse at the girls, and one could tell that they were not human. No, not at all. In fact, one girl with black hair and hot pink highlights was most obviously a vampire. Her dainty figure was pale and her fangs protruded from her gums heavily, but she was alluring nonetheless.
The next was much taller, her figure lean and strong. Her dark skin almost appeared to be covered in fur, but the rider could not be sure. She had a very thick and long mane of curls, and pointy ears just barely burst from the tops of her hair. Her eyes glimmered mischievously as she laughed loudly at something the vampire said. This werewolf girl was otherwordly.
Lastly, a girl with pale and green skin—stitching near everywhere on her body. Her hair was an interesting blend of white and black, full lips that pulled into an easy grin. She stood in platform shoes, her dress breezing with the wind and revealing a pair of long legs. It was the bolts sticking out of the side of the girl's neck that caught the rider's attention. This girl... this pretty girl with green skin and stitching... she was... created. She was not so much as born but created.
The rider tugged on the reigns to the horse forcing him to a halt.
These three girls... these three monsters stood like any other teenage girls giggling to themselves. And that was the best part of Ghostburg, the reason no one ever visited, the reason they liked their privacy.
This town and the few surrounding it were not only home to humans but to various other creatures. Creatures that many would point to and call "monsters!" These were the monsters not put on the Isle, the innocent beings who were simply born different.
In this town, Ghostburg, was also the home to a very special high school. Not quite Auradon Prep nor Dynasty Academy, but a place where these adolescent teenage "monsters" could sit down, learn, socialize, and live without the fear of being persecuted.
No one from royalty or fairytales, but average monsters.
Ghostburg was the home of a school titled "Monster High".
With that, the rider suddenly tugged down her hood revealing sharp and cold chocolate eyes. Brown hair coiled into perfect ringlets hung around her pale face, and her lips moved to form a small smirk.
The face of Winterfell Frost took in everything that Ghostburg had to offer: she had finally arrived at her destination. It only took the remaining hours of the afternoon yesterday and the entire night of riding through the immense forests and trails of Auradon to arrive at this far and isolated town.
And she, or rather Beleth, had to admit... it was rather underwhelming.
A small scoff escaped her and Winter had rolled her eyes before leaping off the large horse. Her boots made a small "click" upon hitting the ground. Beleth swooped her cloak behind her so it did not get in the way.
Upon peeking in Winter's closet, Beleth had groaned at how boring her attire was. Seriously: ties and sweater vests? Like okay, grandma! Go off.
After much digging; however, Beleth was thankful to find some clothing that suited her much better. Dark ripped jeggings, a low-cut top paired with the edgiest boots the girl had in her closet. It was not quite Isle-attire and yet it was badass in its own right.
Plus the shirt made her boobs look great!
Beleth could not stand the pin-straight hair that Winter naturally had either—no, this girl needed some volume! Something that was damn riveting. So, Beleth took the time to curl every last strand to perfect ringlets that gave it just the volume she needed.
However, what Beleth did not notice was the small streaks of white beginning to come in the second after she curled this girl's hair. Beleth decided she wanted bangs too, but she was on a time crunch at the moment—she could do that later.
For now, the curls and some darker makeup would do. For real, it was like this girl had no taste! If Beleth was being honest, she was doing Winterfell a favor by possessing her. It was basically a free make-over by someone who actually knew what she was doing!
The new dramatic arch that Winter's brows had taken no doubt suited her, along with the heavily winged liner and smokey eye make-up. Bronzer snatched the girl's face and her lips appeared thicker with the plump nude lipstick Beleth found hidden away.
Overall, Winterfell did not look like her normal self. No, the low-cut top that propped her boobs up alone was enough of a difference. Add on everything else and you were definitely not looking at Winterfell Frost, but rather some warped, twisted, and promiscuous version of herself.
Beleth was breaking in her new body though—this was only the start to the changes. Beleth stared at her nails—yeah, those had to be done too.
Reaching up, Beleth quickly gripped the reigns to the horse and led it with her. She trotted in an almost sassy manner past the three monster girls who watched her curiously. Her lips quirked ever-so-slightly as she felt their stares. But she did not so much as give them a glance, instead, she continued on—the horse's hooves and her own the only sound to meet her ears.
She walked with purpose, her shoulders drawn back and dead eyes cold and set in front of her. Winterfell Frost had never adorned a chillier "bitch face" than at the moment. Townfolk shivered as she walked by, and stared at her unsurely. They could physically feel something... off with this girl.
And that was coming from people who lived in a town full of literal monsters. But the monsters were kind and friendly—simply misunderstood by the rest of the population. This girl though, this girl who appeared human reeked of darkness, oozed of evil intent.
Even some of the younger men in the town who usually would never hesitate in checking this incredibly hot female out did not dare look at her as she walked past. And that was very hard seeing as they rarely got outsiders—especially such beguiling ones as this.
However, once she passed, most young men allowed their gazes to wash over her backside. And damn, did she have a nice ass.
The horse let out an uncomfortable snort causing Beleth to groan in irritation. Normally, she would not care about this stupid horse, but seeing as this was her ride back to Auradon, she kind of needed to make sure it stayed in tip-top shape.
She tugged more than forcefully on the reign, walking the fleabag to the nearest stables. A man with a heavy beard sat outside, rubbing his eyes tiredly and sipping what appeared to be a light beer. His gaze turned curious at the approaching form of Winterfell Frost.
He shivered under her gaze—her dark eyes boring into his own as she stopped feet away from him. The sun was just rising into the sky, reflecting off her body almost majestically. She reached over and forced the reigns into his meaty hands.
"I will be leaving within the hour and I need you to make sure this horse is all fixed up to get me back to Auradon," her tone was as cold as her gaze.
The man tilted his head at the sound of a slight British twang echoing over her words. It was a twang that Winterfell did not normally adorn, but Beleth kept throughout the centuries.
"I can feed 'im sure," the man responded, delivering a kind pat that the horse seemed to eat the attention of, "prep him and brush 'im, hell; even do his hooves, but he needs to sleep a little—at least two hours..." he rubbed his chin through his beard thoughtfully.
"Uhg," Beleth scoffed, "give it a coffee or something," was all she responded with, waving his words off and twirling around.
The man watched her go while gaping. Did she actually just suggest giving a horse a coffee?
Beleth continued her trek through the town, and just as she passed by a particular glass window of a shop, she paused. Turning to look at the glass, she walked closer and started fixing random pieces of her hair through reflection. Pulling lipstick out of the small leather bag she carried over her shoulder, she began to reapply it.
Ooh, she could not wait to get herself into a nice warm bath!
From the other side of the glass, just next to the reflection another Winterfell suddenly appeared. This version was very different from the one on the other side of the glass. Of course, they shared the same face and body, but their appearance could not be any more opposite.
This Winter had entirely snow-white hair with not a single wave, her face makeup-less. A bright red cozy-looking sweater was paired with white leggings tucked into warm short boots. Small patches of dark fuzz sat on the outsides of her snow boots.
Her brown eyes appeared much more doe-like, this version all around being much warmer. She blinked, looking around frantically as if just realizing where she was. She made eye contact with her other self, and immediately the warmer version of Winter started yelling and pounding on the glass.
Unfortunately, on the other side, in the real world—no one could hear her. And no one except the phony Winterfell was around to notice the warmer version hitting the glass. Beleth popped her lips as she finished applying, placing her lipstick back in the bag.
She narrowed her eyes at the girl in the mirror, both Winter's making eye contact. The real Winterfell started yelling harder in response.
Beleth shook her head and slapped the glass right back, "shut up!"
Winter stumbled away from the glass on the other side, as though she had been shoved. She stared at Beleth with a look of astonishment and fright.
"Be quiet, you stupid little girl!" Beleth sneered before turning away from the glass and heading through the town.
Winter tried tapping on the glass once more, but as Beleth got further away, Winter faded from the glass as though she was never even there to begin with.
A child nearly ran into Beleth from where she was messing around, but Beleth immediately shoved her out of the way and into the cobblestone ground. The kid cried out as she fell to the ground and scraped her knee, but Beleth only snickered and continued on her way.
She was long gone by the time the girl's mother came out and fretted over the small child.
On the corner of Brimstone and Archibald Way was a small corner store. It had a very tiny door that was a faded red, and on top was a sign that read "TRINKETS OF THE SORT".
Beleth paused outside of the door. She could already smell the dust and leather coming from within the old shop. She gripped the cool handle of the door and pulled it open, a bell ringing as she walked in.
The place was just as disgusting and cluttered as she remembered. Shelves holding far more than they were made to, junk and other weird trinkets piled on top of each other, rows upon rows of random crap made the isles of the shop.
At the very back was a small checkout with no one at the counter, but Beleth paid no mind to that. Instead, she turned and made her way through the piling stack of crap. Her boots clicked as walked, eyes taking everything that the place had to offer. She rose a curious brow as she noticed a miniature skull in one area and a bubbling purple potion in another.
She licked her lips and snorted, but her focus was only on one thing. Her feet dragged across the old and worn carpet as she slowed.
Hung on the wooden wall, in a small frame was a glowing red amulet.
The glow bounced off of Winter's face sadistically. She reached forward, and without hesitation opened the casing. Her hands gripped the chain, listening to the metal clack and click as she pulled the beautiful amulet free.
It seemed to light up even more in her touch.
She held it up to her face, eyeing it with a look that could only be described as conniving. Beleth's chest rose as she breathed deeply, lips carving into a carnivorous smile. It was a smile that Winterfell had never once worn.
"Hey!"
Beleth slowly looked up only to meet the gaze of an old woman. The woman gasped, clutching a hand to her chest and backing away out of fear. She sensed what this creature was, this was no girl—this was a demon.
"Who—what..." the old woman was struggling with her words, "what have you done to that poor girl! Release that amulet now, DEMON!"
Beleth tilted her head sinisterly. She easily placed the amulet over her neck, and as the red stone touched her chest she breathed in relief.
"I only gave the bitch a better look," Beleth smiled, and just as the old woman turned away to call for help, Beleth snapped her fingers, "not that you'll be around for much longer..."
The lady suddenly fell to the ground, her breaths coming short and choppy. Beleth watched as the woman died on the ground—the cause being a heart attack. Or maybe it was a stroke.
Beleth was not exactly sure which one, but she knew it was something along those lines. Caused by herself, of course! It was her specialty, after all.
Allowing one last look around the stupid little store that this powerful amulet had somehow ended up in, Beleth decided to swipe the miniature skull before hopping away. And as she stormed out of the store, the door closing with a slam behind her—she opened her mouth and spoke in perfectly formed Latin.
"Et exuret eam igni!"
The entire building went up in flames.
She listened and smiled at the screams, easily making her way through the crowd forming and the people pushing past her to get to the little store that had been there for decades. Beleth only placed her new skull in her leather bag in response.
As she walked, Beleth suddenly made eye contact with the little girl whom she had pushed to the ground previously. With a more than chilling look, the girl was suddenly sobbing into the waist of her mother who was trying to do everything in her power to comfort her suddenly inconsolable daughter.
Beleth thought about killing the brat just for fun, but unfortunately, that would be a waste of the amulet's great power. Especially since she had just used some of it on that ugly old hag, she had to let it recharge.
Biting her tongue, Beleth wondered how long it would take for the rest of Auradon to hear about this little incident. Actually, she doubted any of them would. They were all a bunch of fake-ass motherfuckers who only cared for the big important places.
She highly doubted that King Ben even realized Ghostburg was on the map. Even King Jack and Queen Elsa, whose domain this town technically fell under, would probably not hear about this. They were far too busy fucking each other silly, doting over their family, and moping over their almost grown daughter to notice anything outside of their little bubble of self-made happiness.
She wondered how long it would take for word to spread that their precious daughter was missing. Beleth could not wait to see the looks on their faces when they realized that little swan of a daughter they had was pretty much dead and gone.
She snickered upon seeing Winterfell herself watching the store burn from a glass window across the street. She had fallen to her knees, tears streaming down her eyes and her body racking with sobs.
Weak.
Beleth sneered in disgust but was able to force a condescending smile Winterfell's way just to make herself feel giddy on the inside. Beleth did not have anymore time to dawdle.
No, she had to get back to Auradon.