Crimson Threads and Blue Promises

Red hated Merlin Academy on sight.

The gates were too clean.

The smiles too practiced.

The air itself felt judgmental.

She walked through anyway, boots striking stone like a challenge, daring the place to try something. Conversations dipped as she passed. Whispers followed. Some fearful. Some thrilled. All irritating.

She kept her chin high and her crown crooked.

Then someone walked straight into her.

“Oof—!”

Red staggered half a step, instantly furious. “Are you blind?”

“I—sorry! I wasn’t looking—”

Red looked up and froze—not in awe, not in surprise, but in immediate, visceral disgust.

Chloe Charming.

Of course it was her.

Perfect posture. Perfect hair. Perfect crest stitched proudly over her heart like she’d personally earned centuries of good behavior. She looked like she belonged here in a way Red never would.

Red’s mouth curled. “Watch where you’re going, Princess.”

Chloe’s expression hardened at once. No hesitation. No softness. “Maybe don’t stand in the middle of the path.”

Red laughed, sharp and humorless. “Right. My fault you were too busy floating through life to notice reality.”

Chloe’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

People nearby were already pretending not to listen. Red didn’t care. If this school wanted a villain, she’d give them one.

Chloe straightened, chin lifting. “You don’t get to talk to me like that just because of who your mother is.”

Red stepped closer, close enough to be uncomfortable. “And you don’t get to act like your family’s hands are clean.”

Chloe stiffened. “At least my family didn’t rule by terror.”

Red’s smile was all teeth. “At least mine didn’t pretend kindness fixed everything.”

The air between them went cold and sharp.

“Move,” Chloe said.

“No.”

They stared at each other—neither blinking, neither backing down—until Chloe shoved past her shoulder, not hard, but deliberate.

Red spun after her. “Run along. Glass slippers might crack.”

Chloe didn’t turn around. “Try not to poison anyone before lunch.”

That was it.

From that moment on, Red decided two things:

She couldn’t stand Chloe Charming.

The feeling was mutual—and good.

Orientation was torture.

Red slouched in her seat, legs sprawled, arms crossed tight as Chloe sat across the aisle, back straight, whispering politely with the other hero kids. She laughed once, and Red felt an irrational spike of irritation.

God, does she ever stop being pleasant?

When Chloe glanced her way, Red didn’t look away. She stared openly, daring her to say something.

Chloe rolled her eyes and turned back around.

Good.

Then came the class assignments.

“Combat Theory partners will be listed on the board,” the professor announced.

Red glanced up lazily—and felt her blood boil.

Red of Hearts & Chloe Charming

“You’ve got to be joking,” Red muttered.

Chloe read the board, her jaw tightening instantly. “Absolutely not.”

Red snorted. “Oh, relax. I don’t want to work with you either.”

Chloe turned, eyes sharp. “Then request a reassignment.”

“And let everyone think I can’t handle being near you?” Red leaned back in her chair. “No thanks.”

“I’m not worried about your ego,” Chloe shot back. “I’m worried about my grade.”

Red stood abruptly. “Sit down. You’ll survive.”

Chloe glared at her, then sat with stiff precision, placing her bag between them like a barrier.

They didn’t speak unless forced to.

Every instruction turned into conflict.

“That’s not the proper technique,” Chloe said flatly.

“According to who?” Red snapped. “Fairy-tale standards?”

“You’re sloppy.”

“You’re rigid.”

“You don’t listen.”

“You don’t shut up.”

Their practice match ended with Red disarming Chloe in a move that was technically legal and absolutely aggressive.

Chloe hit the mat hard.

The room went quiet.

Red didn’t offer a hand.

Chloe pushed herself up, cheeks flushed with anger. “Real classy.”

“Get used to it.”

For the rest of the day, they avoided each other with militant dedication—until fate, apparently amused, shoved them together again that night.

Red stormed onto the west balcony, desperate for air and solitude—

—and found Chloe already there.

Red stopped dead. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Chloe turned, just as annoyed. “I was here first.”

“Figures.”

“Go find another brooding tower.”

“I don’t take orders from people who’ve never faced a consequence in their life.”

Chloe stepped closer, eyes blazing. “You think pain makes you special?”

Red’s voice dropped. “You think privilege makes you good?”

They stood inches apart, tension thick and hostile.

“I don’t want to understand you,” Chloe said coldly. “I don’t want to know you.”

Red nodded. “Good. Because I’d rather be on the other side of the world than stuck in a room with you.”

Silence.

Not charged.

Not curious.

Just raw dislike.

Eventually, Chloe turned away. “Stay out of my way.”

Red scoffed. “You stay out of mine.”

They left in opposite directions—both certain of one thing:

Whatever this was between them, it wasn’t attraction.

It was war.