When Love Changes the Script (my eah headcanon)
or — Cupid teaches Apple that love takes many forms, and an arrow always finds its true target.
Cupid, the daughter of Eros, is known for her wisdom about all things Love. Whether it’s answering questions about complicated feelings on her podcast or guiding someone toward their happily ever after (but never her own self, it seems) or finding the best gift for Heart's Day, Cupid is the person people turn to when they don’t know where else to go! Who else could do it like her? Who else can achieve it if not her? Love is her calling and she is more than happy to help you!
And she does it all with a smile that makes you feel so welcome !! Even when love seems to play a cruel joke on her by slipping away from her own hands.
ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺
So truly, she should not be surprised when Apple White knocks at her door, seeking help.
She is used to undoing the knots in people’s hearts, enlightening their darkened worries, but who would’ve thought that THE Apple White would come to her? And sure, she did seek her help once, but it was about Ashlynn’s relationship.
Back then, she was agitated not about her own self but for the sake of her dearest friend.
This time .... she can see it in her eyes.
She’s here for herself.
The Apple White, who has spent her entire life chasing perfection and destiny, who’s stood with a high head and fought for what she believed in, who has made so many hearts rise with envy in front of her composure, is now standing at Cupid’s doorstep, looking lost.
It almost feels surreal.
But it’s true.
ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺
So Cupid immediately invites her in.
Thankfully, Blondie isn’t there -- away on some top secret mission to find out about the validity of some rumours she’s heard. She has to get the scoop just right, she had said while excitedly getting ready.
When Apple steps inside, she’s as pristine as always — with every strand of hair in place, locks falling down like pieces into place, her cape immaculate, a shade of red adorning her lips, her sweet perfume clinging to her skin as if it was a privilege to adorn her — but there’s something fragile in the way she holds herself with her smile not quite reaching the depth and height of her eyes.
It’s the weight of uncertainty, Cupid realizes, a weight she knows all too well.
Apple admits to her that she needs help.
Her voice is low, as if she still can't admit it to herself.
The words feel unfamiliar, almost treacherous. Her mother's voice rings in her head, but she pushes it away. Not this, Apple thinks to herself. Her mother doesn't get to control this.
Cupid recognizes it very easily. The worry in the blonde's eyes seems to travel from her face to her shaking hands. But she made the first step, and that in itself is the biggest prize she could win. (Cupid tells her that with a smile.)
ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺
Cupid know what it is about, of course she does. Everyone saw how Daring’s kiss didn’t wake up Apple. They had all held their breath, waiting for the sacred moment that would’ve sealed their oh-so-yearned happy ever after.
This was it, the moment Apple would get what she wanted!
And yet, everyone got first row tickets to her biggest nightmare: the moment in which their desired future shattered, like a mirror laughing back at them.
And instead of Daring, it was Darling’s lips that brought Apple back.
True Love’s kiss — what a cruel thing, deceiving everyone into believing one thing, only to unveil the truth when a sea of eyes dared to hope.
The scene still lingered in everyone’s minds, even if they tried to hide it.
Nobody wanted to question Apple, but the question was right on their tongue, threatening to spill whenever they saw her.
“What now?”,
except this time, the question was evicted from Apple’s lips.
ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺
The thing is, Apple White isn’t the kind of person who doubts herself, not openly, not like this.
This sight felt like a joke, perhaps another one of Kitty’s pranks, an elaborate one with magic!
After all, if Apple starts doubting herself and her story, then the earth might as well swallow them all!
For as long as anyone could remember, Apple had been obsessed with her story, with her destiny, with her future role.
It is what defined her, what she had built her entire life around. Apple didn't waver; she didn't question. She planned, she prepared, she perfected, she embodied. If you fail to plan, you plan to fail — and Apple vowed to never end on that route.
She embodies royalty, she embodies perfection, she embodies her fate.
She’s everything Headmaster Grimm could ask for. If the Storybook of Legends could possess someone, it would be her.
ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺
But now here she is, her hands shaking as she looks at Cupid, as if her eyes could speak to hers, in a language only they can transverse. As if the hues in her iris can reach to the lines under Cupid’s eyes, as if she’s still scared to speak up and hopes Cupid understands her silence.
All her life, she knew that a prince would be by her side. That is what she prepared for. She laid it all out, like pieces of a puzzle she already could hold in her hands.
And now the pieces were stubborn, refusing to claim their place.
They didn’t fit in anymore.
She didn’t fit in either.
So the pieces turned their back on her and began a new imagery.
And she wondered, what were all those years for?
At times, being with Daring had been more an act of fulfilling duty than something she truly wanted. After all, this was the prince, the future king, with whom she would finally achieve her sweet desired ending. She would be poisoned, he’d wake her up, and her kingdom would finally be hers! She would reign, listening to her subjects, and Daring would make her laugh and … all the other things that came with love. She never truly thought about that part. They had forever ever after for those thoughts.
But now … how was she even supposed to face him?
Would they remain friends now? Were they ever friends?
Would their friendship, or perhaps lack of, change anything?
Could they move on, pretend like it never happened?
Apple knew the answer was no.
ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺
So she asks Cupid, "Was this truly the life I’ve been waiting for, or have I been waiting for a version of it that never existed?"
She stands up nervously, pacing around the room, now visibly shaking, allowing her true emotions to reign in her body, materializing in the way her face falls apart, fear finally presenting itself.
ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺
But at the same time, Apple is known for wanting to address things head-on. She isn’t the type to sit and let her thoughts fester. No, she’s outspoken, direct, the kind of person who believes in action rather than sitting down and drowning in worries. (Perhaps it’s another privilege of being the daughter of the Snow White—a woman who carved out her happily ever after with unwavering determination.)
So, of course, Apple almost treats this like a lesson. Maybe this is to protect herself. She can pretend it’s just another lesson she needs to master! She’s going to get the answers to all of her doubts and she’s going to know all hues and actions needed. It’s almost a coping mechanism. For a few minutes she can pretend this isn’t her real life, maybe it’s a dilemma in a theatrical play, or perhaps someone else is feeling what she is, so she’s gotta help them! This isn’t about her, obviously it isn’t!
So she asks questions — SO many questions — that Cupid almost doesn’t know where to begin. "How do I know for sure?" / "What does it mean if I feel this way?" / "Does it make me… wrong?" / "No story ever had this before, right?" / "Am I not going to get my happy ever after?" / "What do I do with … this destiny?" / "Was this always fated?" / "So why didn’t I notice?"
It’s earnest, vulnerable, and so utterly Apple that Cupid can’t help but feel a pang of something bittersweet.
Apple’s perfectionist tendencies bleed into every corner of her life, even her confusion. Whether it’s a flaw or a skill, it’s up to the reader.
ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺
Cupid quietly introduces her to the concept of comphet.
She doesn’t use the term outrightly though, so as to not scare Apple.
So instead she uses metaphors, "sometimes, we are handed a script. We read it and we assume that role. Even if it doesn’t fit us, we still try. We want to play the part to the best because we think we owe it to someone."
"Like trying on the wrong glass slipper?", Apple replies.
Cupid chuckles, "Yes! Imagine you’re handed the key to a new dorm — well, you switched with Maddie, right? So think that you got the key, and you put it in, you try and twist it, but it doesn’t open. The issue though isn’t the key, right? The key itself is right — it’s shiny, shaped the right way, and it feels right. The problem is the door. You can try and twist it as much as you want, but it will not open."
"So…. I’m not the issue? I just .. got the wrong door?"
Cupid smiles, taking Apple’s hands, as if the mere proximity can calm the blonde’s heart. "Exactly! It doesn’t mean the key is wrong, or that the door is wrong. They aren’t a match. That’s all."
She takes a deep breath and looks exactly into Apple’s bright blue irises’ horizon. "You’re not wrong, Apple. You’re not a faulted object, nor a fraud. What you’re feeling is completely right. You haven’t realized it because you tried so hard to be perfect, or the version of perfect that everyone wanted from you, that you suppressed all that you felt."
She can feel Apple’s hands shaking as she says "… So what do I do?" and it sounds so heartbreakingly lost that Cupid’s heart seems to drown in her pain.
"...Cupid...I don’t know who I am, if not the role given to me."
"You can still achieve your destiny, it simply looks different from what you planned. A long road — our lives — is always meant to change. You don’t have to be anyone else. You have to be yourself, for that is the girl who is going to achieve all that she desires."
ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺
And at the same time, perhaps pieces are falling into place.
Maybe that’s why hanging around Darling was easier, why her laughter seemed to seep into Apple’s chest, warming places she had never realized were cold.
Maybe that’s why losing Briar had felt so scary, as if losing one of her limbs.
Maybe that’s why she never felt like that around Daring, no matter how hard she tried or how often she told herself it would come with time.
And now she realizes, she doesn’t have to force herself to feel that way because she, like everyone else, DOES have a choice. It’s ironic, truly, considering how ardently she fought against it.
and it’s TERRIFYING, because who is she if not that role, that label? She's not her own person, she's literally named APPLE. They are all just wearer of their roles in this society, actors on the stage of fate — but what happens when you want to get off the stage and rewrite your own lines?
If Raven was here, she'd probably chuckle. She can almost hear her voice telling her "I told you so!".
ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺
Cupid would be so gentle with her, her voice soft and steady, the kind of voice that wraps around you like a warm blanket on a stormy night, the kind that can help lost sailors find their way. That was how Apple felt — as if lost at sea. She tells Apple it’s okay to feel confused. That it’s okay not to have all the answers, not to immediately understand her feelings or her sexuality. That it’s okay to be unsure, to take her time. That she isn’t the first, and will not be the last to feel like this.
ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺
"You don’t owe anyone anything, Apple," Cupid would say, a stark contrast to the conditioning Apple has carried all her life. Her crown of thorns would slowly start dissipating.
Cupid would share stories — small, tender moments she’s witnessed or experienced herself. Maybe, if she’s feeling daring, even a glimpse of her time in Monster High, though she carefully avoids saying too much about the school itself. Instead, she talks about the universality of love, how it comes in countless forms and hues, how it can surprise even someone like her, who should know everything about it. Love is all encompassing, an action, something you can try and hide from, but it will find you when you least expect it. It sees the ashes in your heart and the thorns around your ribcage, and it is not scared.
ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺
At some point, Apple would have probably taken out her notebook. She’s known to keep lists and categorize everything. She would treat it like the lesson of her lifetime. She would be jotting down questions, observations and little scraps of thoughts that flit across her mind. Sure, she is freaking out, but nothing will stop her perfectionism from shining through again.
But as the conversation deepens, as Cupid’s words resonate more and more, undoing the knots in Apple’s chest, the notebook would quietly fall to the side, forgotten in the corner, and with that, so would Apple’s concept of the world.
ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺
It is clear that Apple feels even more shaken now, so Cupid moves closer, reaching for Apple’s hands, holding them firmly in her own. Her grip is warm and grounding, and when she speaks, her voice carries the kind of certainty that makes you believe it’s true, even if you don’t yet feel it.
Apple’s lip trembles, and she looks down at their joined hands, a single tear slipping down her cheek. Cupid doesn’t let go, doesn’t move. She simply stays, her thumbs brushing over Apple’s knuckles.
"Thank you," Apple says quietly. "For… for listening. For understanding."
Cupid smiles, "Always."
"Can I.. come again if I need help?", she asks. Cupid nods, "Of course!"
The waves in Apple's heart slow down a little after this interaction.
ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺
And so, over time, they meet again. It’s always either in Cupid’s room (when Blondie isn’t present) or in Apple’s — anywhere else feels not enough for these sacred conversations, not deep enough to hold the truth Apple is slowly reaching for. They tried to meet in the gardens outside once, but it quickly felt too suffocating, so they decided to regularly meet in their rooms.
ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺
At first, Cupid treats it like any other guidance she’s given: professional, purposeful, with all the wisdom she’s gathered from years of untangling hearts. She lays it all down, slowly and carefully, and explains it.
But Apple… Apple is different.
Apple shows up with the same precision she applies to every part of her life. There’s a determination in her, an eagerness to get it right. She brings notebooks, pens, color-coded questions. She has lists, she marks down her words, she highlights what she thinks is most important.
She says it helps her concentrate.
She leans in too close when Cupid speaks, her bright blue eyes wide, her brows furrowed in concentration. She leans her head on Cupid’s shoulders when she feels too overwhelmed, and she squeezes her hands in excitement when discussing their days.
It’s endearing, at first.
Then, it’s devastating.
ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺
Because Cupid realizes that Apple doesn’t just listen to her words; she absorbs them, as if her words are water and she is a sponge. Every reassurance, every gentle truth Cupid offers, Apple takes them in as if they’re lifelines. Apple starts to smile more in these moments, the kind of smile that lights up her face in a way Cupid knows she shouldn’t find herself staring at for too long. The kind of smile you can’t help but desire to frame into your eyelids, so as to never spend a day without it.
Her red lips have become the latest interrupter of her nights.
And then there’s the laughter.
It begins slowly — awkward little chuckles when Apple catches herself overthinking or stumbling over her words, as if she’s making a mistake when asking completely normal questions. Then it grows, freer and louder as Apple relaxes, as she trusts Cupid more. She notices it in the way her shoulders relax, in the way she allows her eyes to close for minutes at times while thinking. The first time Apple laughs, really laughs in her presence, Cupid feels something shift in her chest. And it shouldn’t because she’s heard her laughter so many times. She could play it on a harp blindfolded. It’s a symphony that has taken over her brain. It shouldn’t, but it does.
It’s in the small things, too: the way Apple tucks her hair behind her ear while she’s listening intently, the way she hugs a pillow to her chest while sitting cross-legged on the bed. The way she pauses after Cupid says something profound, repeating it softly to herself, as if to make it real.
As if her words are a prayer, sacred.
ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺
Cupid realizes she is in trouble when Apple thanks her one day, cheeks flushed and eyes gazing directly into hers, and her chest tightens, in a way that makes her want to run.
She feels it at that moment — the all too familiar ache of love seeping into her bones, flowing from her arms to her legs, almost making her stumble.
Chariclo Arganthone Cupid has fallen in love with Apple White.
And it’s terrifying.
ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺
She questions herself – maybe she’s making it up. They’ve been spending so much time together, of course she feels something! It’s just their endless talks about love that have clouded her mind. Of course all of her extremely detailed ramblings and explanations have accidentally seeped into her own heart. This is Apple White, of course everyone is drawn to her!
ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺
But ……. Cupid can lie all she wants, but love is what she was born for, and she knows it too well.
Apple deserves clarity and she doesn’t deserve Cupid’s mess.
So she bites her tongue every time they meet. When long afternoons stretch into nights, and words threaten to spill from the soundbox of her chest, she holds the poison of her love trapped inside her ribcage. She ignores the way her heart starts racing when Apple takes her hands, running from their room to the Cafeteria to get the cake that — in Apple’s words — she absolutely has to try. Cupid doesn’t say it, but she would trade all the sweetness of this world to feel Apple’s love.
And when the laughter dies down, when the cake is gone and Apple’s hands have left hers, Cupid drowns in Apple’s ghost.
She could feel it in the silence, how her heart longed to be evicted from her chest and run, run till it found Apple’s.
But it can’t.
It’s not fair.
ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺
And one night, as they are sitting on Apple’s bed, a scenery Cupid has gotten used to, Apple admits it out loud – "I think I like Darling. As more than a friend, I mean. And before you ask, this is not another Daring situation where I think I HAVE to like her because of … our fate. I think – No, I know that you were right."
Cupid’s heart stutters, but her expression remains steady. She’s practiced this a thousand times in her head — what she would say when this moment came, how her face would twist into the right expression, how she would smile as if she was the happiest girl in the world, how she would reach for her hands excitedly. But none of her rehearsed responses seem to fit now that it’s real. None of them are able to escape from her lips. So she nods and musters up a smile, "That is wonderful Apple! If Darling makes you feel like your story is yours, if she makes your heart feel cradled and your joy enlarged, then go for it!". And as she says it, she can feel her own heart being ripped into pieces.
She could swear an arrow of her own just pierced her soul.
How ironic.
ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺
When Apple hugs her, thanking her endlessly for her support and wisdom, Cupid lets her hands linger just a second longer before pulling away, her eyes tracing her silhouette as if for the last time.
She watches Apple leave the room, taking Cupid’s heart with her. She can barely call it her own at this point. But it will never know the tenderness of the blonde beauty’s love.
And she tells herself it’s alright, it will be alright. After all, this pain isn’t foreign to her.
Chariclo Arganthone Cupid was born for love, but love wasn’t raised for her.
ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺
The memories she clings to like a lost sailor ….. Cupid tries to let them go, but her mind tortures her incessantly and interminably with the little moments she shared with Apple — the way Apple’s face would light up during their talks, the way she’d laugh a little too hard at Cupid’s jokes, the way her hand lingered a second longer than necessary when she reached for Cupid’s and the way she would rest her chin on her shoulder as if it could help her hide from the world and her own self. Was it real? Was any of it real? She doesn’t know what would hurt more: the possibility that it wasn’t or the thought that it was, just not enough.
She doesn’t cry where anyone can see: Cupid has mastered the art of hiding her pain.
She greets Apple the next day like nothing’s wrong, nodding encouragingly when Apple gushes about her plans to talk to Darling. "You’re going to be amazing", she says, her voice steady, her eyes bright. She excuses herself a few minutes later, saying she has work to do.
She doesn’t. She just can’t breathe.
ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺
When finally, one day, she sees the two of them together, Apple holding onto Darling’s hands the way she used to with Cupid, she knows it’s over. And she reprimands herself. It never even began, so how can it be over? And if it’s over, why is her heart still writing, demanding for more? Aching to be read by the only person who seems to transverse in its language.
She wishes she could turn it off, shut it away, locked in the tallest of secluded towers where nobody could reach for it.
She wishes she wasn’t Cupid, the embodiment of love. How can she stand up in front of everyone and declare that love is worth it, when it feels like a luxury she can never reach?
ᢉ𐭩 — ✦ . ⁺
As days go on, even as the pain lingers, unlike Apple’s presence, Cupid straightens her shoulders. She tells herself it’s alright, but that she needs to move on. She might not get to keep love, but she gets to create it, to inspire it, to watch it bloom in others. She might not have been able to be part of Apple’s love story, but she helped writing it. And that should be enough. One day it will be enough.
And maybe, one day, someone will teach her the kind of love she’s always given to everyone else.
It is not the ending she wanted, but it is hers. And she learns to hold it gently, the way she wishes someone would hold her.
Author’s Note: omg hi! I have been working on this for almost two months now. it is my first and probably last eah piece. I am very unfamiliar with how to write both Cupid and Apple so I hope this is not too OOC. I guess this story is a quiet ode to the beauty of love, the ache of an untouched arrow, and the joy of watching others bloom in love’s light. may it remind you that love, in all its forms, finds its way to the heart meant to hold it. the love that you give will always find its way back to you. love in its truest form is never wasted, even if it hurts you and makes you feel dismantled. and you never lose love when you give it to someone; instead, you set it free. it travels, it grows, and in time, it always finds its way back to you, often in ways you least expect. thank you so much for mira and void for listening to my rants about this headcanon, and to my friend fungi for even giving me the idea in the first place !! I didn’t specifically listen to this song when I was writing but I feel like it fits the overall topic of the headcanon <3
