Author's Note: The original story of Snow White does not belong to me, obviously.

It was approaching midnight at Wolke castle, and nearly all its inhabitants were asleep. All, but three. King Wilhelm and his advisors Bartolomaus and Filbert sat at the large oak table in the middle of his private consulting chambers, determined to put the last issue on their agenda to rest.

"I believe that we should accept the Kingdom of Ivespell's request for alliance, Sire," Bartolomaus told the king. "They can provide extra military reinforcement, and in return, we give them access to the gold mines we have in the area that borders theirs."

"Those mines are our smallest, and least robust," Filbert chimed in. "For Ivespell it would be a windfall, but very little loss to us."

"Hmm," King Wilhelm responded, rubbing his chin. "I must agree, their proposal is sound. However, the royal family of Ivespell has a very ugly history of mistreating their servants, and barely allowing their lower classes enough to live on. If this is still a common practice for them, then their friendship, however attractive, is not something I can acquiesce to."

Bartolomaus and Filbert exchanged a sidelong glance, but nodded in agreement with their king. Wilhelm was as rich in morals as he was in beauty – sometimes to a fault. The court advisors would rather have secured an alliance that promised a stronger defense of their land – what should it matter to them how a foreign kingdom handled their servants? – but the king would never abide that.

"Bart, I want you to take a small party with you and perform some reconnaissance. Pay Ivespell a surprise visit and find out exactly what the royals' current policies are. After all," Wilhelm said, waving the scroll, "Their request did indicate that we were 'welcome at any time.' Let us accept that offer. And if they have indeed changed their ways, then I will be happy to sign an agreement with them."

"Yes, Sire," Bartolomaus said, bowing. "I shall leave tomorrow morning."

"Will that be all for tonight, Sire?" Filbert asked, trying very hard to keep his tone neutral and free of the exhaustion they all clearly felt.

The King gave a tired smile. "Yes, most certainly. I thank you for your time and devotion, gentlemen. You may retire to your quarters."

After his advisors bowed and left his chambers, Wilhelm put out the lamp on the table and began his walk to his bed chamber. His wife would most certainly be asleep by now, and he felt a pang in his heart when he realized he hadn't seen his child since the morning before last. The matters concerning both his native kingdom, Wolke, and those of the kingdom he'd inherited through his marriage, Waldemar, had taken up a great deal of his time in the last few weeks. Up until this point, he'd found a way to balance both his royal duties and his duties to his family. But now it seemed that multiple issues had compounded simultaneously, and he had no choice but to lock himself away in his chambers and tend to them as needed.

The queen, with usual grace and kind understanding, gave him all the support that any husband could hope to gain from his wife. "You are more than just a father and husband, my love," she told him. "You must be many things to many people. You stand for all of us, and I stand with you."

Wilhelm felt a small, tender smile rise over his face as he thought of what she'd said. The smile quickly faded when an anguished moan, followed by several breathy cries met his ears. It was coming from the bed chamber he shared with his wife. He broke into a run, frantically racing the last few yards to get to the door. When he got there, his wife's attendants were just coming to the door, their eyes wide with fear. They bowed quickly when they saw him and then looked at him questioningly.

"Return to your quarters," he told him. "Worry not; I will handle this."

Reluctantly they curtseyed again and quickly scampered away from the moans and cries that were beginning to increase in sound and desperation. Wilhelm allowed himself a quick sigh of frustration and pushed open the door to his chambers.

The room was very dimly lit, but he knew it well enough to get to the bed easily. He approached very carefully, wincing lightly against the sound of the cries and whimpers coming from the bed. The figure lying on it writhed and twisted, sheets tangled around limbs desperately fighting to be free.

Wilhelm sat down on the bed and took a firm but gentle hold of the arms that were flailing around. "Darling, darling, it is all right, it is all right, wake up! Come, darling, wake up!"

The sheet came away from her head, revealing a stunningly beautiful face, its delicate features contorted by fear and pain. "No…no no no no! It's dark, it's dark! I ca-can't breathe! I can't breathe!" she cried. She was nearly sitting up erect in bed, her eyes still tightly shut. She fought against Wilhelm's embrace, trying to wrench herself away, but he held her fast. This had happened before, and he knew what to do.

"Wake up, my love! Snow White!"

And with that, her eyes flew open. She panted, her lungs seeming to struggle to take in enough air to sustain her. She had a mad, wild look to her, and for a moment Wilhelm was frightened. She didn't seem to know him.

Then her eyes softened and she caught breath. "Wil?" she whispered.

"Yes, darling. You're all right."

Snow White gave a little cry and allowed herself to lean heavily upon him. Wilhelm held her in his arms, rocking her. She finally pushed away gently, lying down against the pillows. A light sheen of sweat covered her porcelain skin. "I had the dream again, didn't I?" she asked breathlessly, combing her fingers in her dark hair.

Wilhelm kissed the fingers of the hand he still held in his. "Yes. It's just a dream." A dream she had several times a year, if truth be told. A dream that woke them both in the middle of the night with her screams and cries for help. A dream that left her unable to sleep the rest of the night and even the night after, in some cases. Once again, he cursed the name of Grimhilde in his mind.

He would not say this. Instead, he said, "This is my fault. I have been away from you too long."

"No, my love," Snow White told him. "You mustn't blame yourself from this."

"But I keep the dreams away," Wilhelm argued. "I should be here, with you, and with—"

But before he could finish his sentence, a drawn out wail coming from the adjoining room stopped him.

"Oh no. The baby," Snow White said, closing her eyes in guilt. "He heard me." She began to get out of bed.

"No," Wilhelm told her, pushing her back down against the pillows. "Hannah or Gerda will see to him."

"But he needs me—"

"You need to rest. That is what our servants are for, my love. Let them do their duties."

A few minutes later, the wails had died down and everything was peaceful once again. Wilhelm removed his clothing and blew out the candles, then pulled back the sheet and slipped into bed, curling himself against his wife, his chest to her back.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, his palm against her stomach. Her body had calmed considerably, but she still wasn't asleep – he could tell. He didn't know if he should say something or not. When they were first married and Snow White had her nightmares, she was so shaken by them that Wilhelm simply held her for hours, until the trembling had stopped and she fell asleep. Now, three years later, the dreams had become like a hated houseguest that they dreaded but had no choice but to host.

Wilhelm simply did not know how to rid his wife of them. It was understandable that she would have them, considering the horrors she had suffered at the hands of her stepmother. But nothing, not the drugs and herbs from the apothecaries, nor even removing everything that belonged to the former queen from Waldemar, had seemed to help. The dreams lessened over time, fortunately, but they never went away completely. It almost felt as though Queen Grimhilde still exerted a powerful hold over her stepdaughter's life and would continue to, for always.

Wilhelm was trying to find just the right words of comfort to say when he heard her tinkling bell voice murmur quietly, "What have you decided to do about Ivespell?"

He sighed and pressed his face against her hair. "I'm sending Bart to do some reconnaissance tomorrow. I want them as allies, but…"

"But you couldn't live with yourself if it turned out they were heartless sadists who abused the poor and the low," she finished his thoughts for him.

"Yes," he whispered. "All I want to do is what's right."

She was quiet for such a long time, Wilhelm thought she'd fallen asleep. And then finally he felt her hand come up to caress the one he had splayed across her stomach. She said in a low voice, "If only we could all agree on what is right."

Her words, both hopeful and wistful at the same time, caused a chill to run through Wilhelm's blood. He held his wife a little closer to him, trying to draw in the just as much warmth from her kind heart as from her beautiful body.