Disclaimer: I do not own or claim rights to "Snow White and the Huntsman".

Note: This story is in two parts. I apologize for the abrupt end of this chapter. More to come. Cheers!

The Subtlety of Good Ale

Snow stood outside his chamber door, her arm raised in a parodic gesture of a knock. She almost smiled at the thought of how strange she must look: a queen in the servants' quarter, hesitant, unsure of her right to be there. But that was how she felt. It had been a fortnight since the coronation and she had not once come across him. She heard rumours that he had left after the coronation, that he had been offered a job transporting prisoners from Ravenna's guard to an unspecified location. Yet at the council meeting tonight Snow had discovered that that these rumours were untrue. The huntsman was still in castle grounds. Of course, she could not blame him for his general absence – it was not as if she had been making efforts to seek him out. In fact, the truth was that she had been avoiding him, busying herself with the new tasks that came with her title.

One of these new tasks included council meetings, the second of which had been tonight. It was here that Snow was informed by the other members of the council that in a week's time the huntsman would be knighted for his fealty to the queen. The council had asked her whether she considered this a worthy honour; the final decision came down to her. She agreed without hesitation, pleased that the others had acknowledged their debt to him. Since coronation, Snow had worried that those who had fought alongside her in the war, but had no title, would slip by unrecognized or remunerated for their bravery. She was glad that Eric would get his due.

She felt stronger outside his door now remembering that her visit had a purpose. Her hand descended heavily, knocking twice. From inside, he called for her to come in. Snow pressed the latch on the door and entered the room, which was of medium size and scarcely furnished. Its appearance however was made more cheerful by a large window facing the castle grounds. She was surprised that he was not in the room and then noticed a small door in the corner, which was wedged open, leading to what was assumed to be a bath. Before Snow could announce her presence, the interior door opened and the huntsman emerged, uncovered except for his riding breeches, which were slung low on his waist. His upper body was still wet from his bath.

"Snow." Her stared at her, unmoving and yet clearly startled. "What are you doing here?"

His second question acted as a catalyst, prompting him into action. The huntsman walked over to his bed and cleared whatever items had been on top, making a space for her to sit. He then approached the chair beside the bed and from it picked up a goatskin jacket. Though he now was mostly covered, she could still see water droplets on his neck.

"Come, sit," he said, gesturing to his bed. He then pulled the chair from its place along the wall and positioned it across from the bed. He leaned towards her, his hands on his knees. His eyes however did not reach her face. Snow felt deeply aware of their proximity and wondered if he too was uncomfortable.

Before she could broach the reason for her visit, he sprung up from his seat and moved to the wooden cabinet positioned under the window. He turned to her and asked, "Do you want some ale? I need a drink."

"I see your thirst has not diminished," Snow said. The huntsman's lips pressed together, but did not form a smile.

"Yes," she added, "I want a drink".

"Aye".

He handed her a wooden cup. She was surprised that he had made no comment about her having alcohol. Snow had never before accepted such an offer from him.

"The handy thing about livin' in a castle is that there is an endless supply of ale. And its damned good too".

She nodded and took a long gulp. He was right, it did taste good.

"Hey, slow down there. No one wants a drunk for a queen."

She looked up from her cup and gave him sharp look. "Aye, but if I was man, you would not say such a thing."

"Does that bother you?"

"Does what bother me?"

"That you are not a man," he said incisively, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know how to answer that," she responded, with a slight edge to her voice.

"You think that they treat you differently, because you are not a man."

"They treat me like a queen. I suppose you could say that I am… perfect in their eyes."

"Aye, but you fear that they don't trust your judgement, your reason, and your strength."

She didn't know how to answer him, so she took another sip from her cup. Snow felt emboldened by the drink.

"Listen, Snow," he implored, leaning closer to her, "do not doubt yourself. Remember that you are the one that saved them. Your will, your power saved them; they owe you for their lives."

"But don't you see?" She rose from her seat on the bed. "Now that we have won, I am back in the tower of my youth. I am not locked away, but I am trapped just the same."

"Don't be a fool," he replied sharply. The huntsman followed her over to the window where she looked out at the castle grounds. He stood beside her, their arms barely brushing.

She turned towards the huntsman, so that she was facing him when she spoke.

"Look at me," she said. "This finery I wear, the jewels I am lavished with… it is not who I am. Maybe it could have been… before Ravenna. But the past has changed me. My title gives me power, but I fear it has come with a price. I am a bloody doll."

He paused before answering. Snow thought he would perhaps admonish her for swearing.

He ran a hand through his hair, pausing over his answer.

When the huntsman did respond, he looked frustrated, even angry. His hand was pressed into the wall and the flats of his fingers had whitened from the strain.

"Take it off then. Take it all off. Refuse it. Do not let them dictate who you are or who you want to be. Remember, Snow… your word is law."

"If my word is law, then why has the council gone against my wishes?"

"Aye?"

She sighed, and said, "nothing is definite, but some members of the council believe that for diplomatic reasons, in addition to the pleasure it would give the people, that I should take a mate. They want a King."

His eyes widened in alarm. She felt suddenly tense beside him, so she moved closer to the window and looked again at the darkened sky.

In a low voice, he muttered, "they dare offend you… they dare threaten the Crown…"

"And yet it's not even that which concerns me!" she said loudly, again manoeuvring her body closer to the huntsman. "It's that… I want more, you see."

He laughed and ran a hand through his hair, seemingly confused.

"You mistake me," Snow said quickly. "I do not want more riches or more power. In fact, I would happily give this all up tomorrow. I fought for my family's honour, and for the goodness of the people and the land. But being queen… it does not touch my heart."

"What do you want then, if it is not to be found here?"

He watched from his position by the window as she paced across the room.

"I want more… adventure. I want to help people, but not from behind the walls of the castle. And I want to feel passion, above all else."

At these words, he moved towards her, and reached out so that his hands rested gently on her shoulders. Their eyes met and she felt overwhelmed by his nearness.

"Those things will come to you, but you have to be patient. Remember, you are still so young."

She knocked his hands from her shoulders, and edged away from him in anger.

"I am not a child, Eric. I understand my duty, it is everything to me. But I thought that you, more than anyone else would understand this desire… this need that cannot be quenched by council meetings, dresses, balls, and god… courting."

"She is queen and yet it is not enough."

"You are right… perhaps I do speak as a fool."

He did not comfort her but instead moved to the cabinet to pour a second drink for them both.

"I should leave," she said suddenly, glancing at the main door. "But before I do I need to tell you the real reason I came to see you. You are to be knighted in a week's time."

"I am honoured," he said. "But I cannot accept."

"And why not?" She asked brusquely.

"I won't be here. I take leave in two days."

The huntsman returned to her and offered her the refreshed cup of ale. She did not take it.

"You do not speak to me for a fortnight and now you confess that you are leaving? And what, were you going to slip into the night, like a common thief, without even saying goodbye?"

"Yes."

She captured the cup from his hands and launched its contents in his face.

"Goddamnit! What say you?" He wiped the ale from his face with the sleeve of his jacket and moved away from her, again towards the cabinet.

With his back turned to her, he stammered, "You… are right, you should go. People will begin to chatter if you stay much longer."

Snow disregarded the command to leave the room; instead, she moved closer to where he stood.

"Tell me truly, do you not care for me? Will it not pain you to say goodbye? Are we not friends anymore? After everything that we have undergone together, this does not seem like a charitable end."

She approached him by the cabinet. Swallowing, she took a breath and laid her hand on his forearm. He flinched at her touch, as if her warmth had burnt him.

"You don't understand…" He faltered a moment and then added, "it is not that I don't care. But I have lost too much and seen too much and hurt too many people, to be part of your world. I am no lord... Perhaps not even a knight. Besides, what would I do here? I would get restless."

"But good ale is worth something, is it not?"

He smiled.

"Yes, good ale is worth everything. In fact, I am in love with good ale."

"Eric…"

She moved her hand up his arm, in what felt to her to be an achingly slow pace. But she wanted to impress upon him the importance of this moment. She parted his coat and slipped her hand inside, resting it finally upon his chest.

"Don't tempt me," he breathed. The huntsman peered at her hand and regarded it as if it was some sort of foreign thing.

"Tell me the truth. What is this all about?" She asked.

"I am in love with you." The force of his gaze faltered. He smiled sadly.

"Aye, and so you leave me?"

"Yes."

Snow roughly removed her hand from his body, seized the jug of ale from the cabinet and tossed it at the adjacent wall. It clattered to the floor unceremoniously, but the ceramic remained intact.

"You madden me, woman. That was good ale!"

"I madden you? You are a complete contradiction. You are kind but cruel, deeply open and trustworthy, but dark and unfamiliar too. And that look… yes that one, you save that look just for me. But when I return it, it goes away."

He stared at her openly now, and she reddened as his gaze drifted from her eyes down to her body. He took a step closer to her, closing the distance between them to no less than a foot. She could plainly tell now that he wanted her. And yet he remained still, his gaze arresting.

"Your kiss woke me from the spell," Snow revealed suddenly. "Do not lie. Please, I need to know."

Rather than displaying discomfort or hesitation, the huntsman appeared calm, almost pleased to be able to tell her the truth.

"I do not know about magic. But yes, I kissed you. And afterwards… I suppose you awoke."

"So we are destined."

"Don't say that," he pleaded.

"And why not? My heart says it's so. Why have we shied from each other since coronation? It is because of the weight of this knowledge."

When he did not respond, she reached out for his hand. He let her hold it but did not affect pleasure.

She implored him, "Can you not feel this… this thread running between us, connecting us? Does this not feel right?"

She lifted his hand to her mouth and kissed his open palm.

"Yes," he breathed, "God, yes. You are the first thing I think about when I wake up. And the last thing when I go to sleep. You haunt me, Snow."

And with that he released his hand from her and wrapped his arms around her waist, gathering her tightly against him. In succession, she lifted her lips to his and he plunged forward, submerging them both in a heated kiss. She felt undone by him. One kiss and she was ravished, seduced, panting for more. His mouth moved slowly, edging its way down her neck, his tongue sweeping along her collar bone, the swell of her breasts. She moaned and then laughed sharply, startled by the sound of her desire.

He remained composed, his focus directed at her body. When he had kissed all of her visible skin, he placed his hands on her cheeks, and held her face close his.

"I want you… now… in my bed," he said.

She nodded, acquiescing, following him to his bed. No words were available to express her hunger for him.

She turned her back to him and without instructions he began to undo the laces to her gown. She heard him murmur in frustration and when more than a few painful minutes had passed, he swore and released his hands in defeat.

"Turn," he summoned in an even voice. He roughly hooked his hands behind her waist, holding her still, and retrieving his knife from its holder, he began to cut through the material. When he had cut three inches down from the top of her bodice, he put his knife back in its sheath and used both of his hands to rip open the rest of the dress. The golden material and corset fell from her body and puddled on the ground at her feet. She stood before him, naked except for a white shift.

TBC...