whiteknightswan asked:
for the one word prompts. Snow Queen, "sin"
"And the sins of the fathers
Will visit the children
Nightly in their beds."
Liz Lochhead
"You should ask the Queen", Johanna says, her face frowning at the very thought, but a good servant knows her place in these things. "I think these things are quite different for a princess."
"We're all the same, really," Snow insists, but she sighs internally at the continuing realization that it's a lie. She's a princess, and a daughter, and she's never felt lonelier in her life. "Where is the Queen today?"
"I understand she's in the chapel, your highness," Johanna says, pulling the thread she's darning with so tight that it snaps. "She spends most of her days there."
When Snow barges into the small church, she hears a muffled curse and then there's a smell of smoke in the air for just a moment.
"Snow," Regina says, appearing from behind a stone pillar, smoothing down the silver fabric of her dress. Though the hour is getting late and the sun is almost set, the material looks as fresh and uncrinkled though Regina has only just put it on.
"Regina," Snow says warmly, taking her stepmother's hands in her own. "I'm afraid I have a question for you, and I'm not sure it can wait."
"Very well, dear," Regina says, with just the hint of a sigh. She seems especially restless lately, and though Snow usually sees little of the interaction between her father and stepmother, in recent weeks their arguments have been loud enough to echo as far as Snow's own chambers, and there's chatter amongst the servants that Regina is to be kept from leaving the castle.
"Well," Snow persists, before she can lose her courage. Regina is still the fairest woman Snow has ever seen, and she's so graceful as the Queen that Snow can't imagine Regina ever having questions like these. "It's about after you find your true love."
Regina flinches, and Snow holds her breath for a long moment.
"Yes?" Regina snaps this time, a hint of bad temper in her eyes.
"I understand that you 'just know', that's clear in all the books," Snow begins. "And I understand kisses, of course, of all the kinds. I kissed Prince Eric at the ball just last month, after all."
"Did you?" Regina looks interested for a moment, but then she smiles to suggest Snow should continue.
"But there are other things, beyond kisses," Snow continues, face flushing as red as any berry. "And I'm a woman now, so I feel that I should know."
"Your Father has made no mention of making you a match," Regina reminds her, stepping closer with a thoughtful expression. Her silver dress contrasts beautifully with her dark hair and dark eyes, and Snow is suddenly aware that she's staring. "Sometimes I think he means to keep you to himself forever."
"He's gone for a walk by the shore again," Snow answers, in a bid to distract herself from the way the fabric hugs Regina's body in such appealing places. "He says he means to do it everyday from now on."
"Perhaps he'll find a man for you amongst the rocks and seaweed," Regina teases. "But you're a bright girl, Snow White. Why do you ask me such questions?"
"Everyone else is scared to answer me!" Snow explodes with frustration. "I know sometimes I bother you, dear Regina, but at least you always tell me the truth."
"What do you want to know? A description of the things a husband does to a wife in the night? A list of duties a good wife must perform?"
Regina is so close now and her eyes are blazing with that sudden rage she usually conceals so well. For a moment they seems to flash purple and there's a loud crash from somewhere in the back of the chapel.
"No, I... I don't know!" Snow protests.
"Then I must leave you, Snow," Regina says, turning away and striding down the central aisle of the small, sacred place. Snow barely thinks before hitching her skirts and chasing after her. She catches her by the altar, where the incense is strong enough to drown out every sense but the sight of Regina before her.
"Show me," Snow pleads, in a moment of inspiration. "If you show me, I won't be sullied when I take a husband."
Regina laughs, actually throws her head back and laughs so coldly that Snow thinks the blood in her veins might freeze. This woman is quietly terrifying, and yet it only draws Snow closer, another dangerous mission to undertake without her father ever finding out.
"Please, Regina," Snow tries again, only to be startled when Regina's laughter stills and she shoves Snow roughly to the ground, her fall broken only by the wide step of the altar.
"Show you?" Regina asks. "You want to know how a woman is treated when she finds a husband? You want to feel the things I felt?"
"Regina," Snow says, and she doesn't know how to answer, because there's such warning in the words that every nerve is straining for Snow to flee, to never mention such things in Regina's presence again.
Then Regina is looking at her with such tenderness that Snow fears they're both going to cry.
"Oh, Snow," Regina whispers, falling to her knees on the altar. "I didn't mean to scare you. Come here," she insists, pulling Snow into a hug just like when they first knew each other.
Snow can't help but seize what feels like a last chance, and so she turns her head to bury her face against Regina's neck, but instead of resting there Snow starts to pepper soft kisses all the way up the soft skin to Regina's ear.
"Please," Snow says again. "Please, Regina. I want so badly to know. And I trust none more than you."
Regina sighs, so very deeply, and gives in to Snow's demands. There's a wicked glee for just a moment, the prerogative of a princess, because everyone bends to her will before long. When Regina offers a kiss from her mouth, Snow accepts greedily,
"You kiss very well," Snow tells her, when they finally stop for longer than half a gasp of breath.
"How would you know?" Regina mocks, before kissing Snow soundly once more, pressing her back against the hard wood of the altar, blossoms from the most recent service surrounding their bodies, candles flickering overhead.
"Very well," Snow concedes. "You kiss far better than Prince Eric, then."
Regina snorts in contempt, before reaching for the laces on the front of Snow's corset.
"Are you sure?" Regina asks. "This is not even close to appropriate. If you breathe a word to even one maid, your father will have my head for this."
"I would never betray you," Snow says, completely sincere.
"You betrayed me once before," Regina reminds her, through gritted teeth. "I'll have to trust you know the difference this time."
"Which is?" Snow demands.
"After my head, your father will have yours," Regina states, suddenly calm again. "He won't tolerate such shame on his family."
"But I want to," Snow insists. "We can both agree to never tell."
Regina grins, and for a moment Snow sees the madwoman Johanna and the other maids gossip about when they think their princess is not around. There's no denying Regina is unhappy here, but is she really so reckless as to gamble with her own life?
Snow gets the answer she isn't sure she wants as deft fingers unlace the corset, letting her breasts spring free in their simple silk slip as the boned cage is released at last. The relief is fleeting, because Regina's hands do not halt, causing Snow's breath to hitch in new and exciting ways she hadn't dared to imagine.
"No need for this," Regina murmurs, pushing the slip up roughly and leaving Snow half naked. Regina's fingers roam, stroking and pinching, teasing and plucking as they see fit. Snow reacts to every touch like magic is pulling at her very limbs, a mere puppet under Regina's touch.
Snow can barely think through the haze of sensation, but she knows she can't stay passive in this most important of moments. She reaches for the ties of her shirt, fumbling the knot with trembling fingers until she can push it down, down and kick it away, earning a glare from Regina who's pinning her quite effectively to the floor.
It must be a trick of the candlelight, because for a moment Regina's silver dress seems to turn the color of shadows, darkness chasing darkness across her body. A blink and all is normal again, but for the new presence of Regina's hand pressed between Snow's thighs.
"Last chance, princess," Regina whispers, and Snow can't say how much she wants it, all she knows is that she's slick between her legs and that only happens when she thinks of something like this, when she thinks of Regina at all lately.
"Touch me," Snow manages to gasp, and Regina does, lowering her mouth to a nipple as her fingers gently stroke and rub at Snow's wet flesh, until long minutes later when Snow's back is arching, Regina pushes a finger inside.
Snow understands then, what the whispers and the blushing and the sparkles of excitement are all about. Her body feels like liquid gold, or perhaps a firefly trapped in an alchemist's jar. She can't settle on a thought or an image for more than a second, not while Regina's mouth is so warm and wet, not when a second finger presses inside Snow and makes her sob with embarrassing, beautiful need.
"Regina," Snow murmurs. "Even your name means Queen."
"Yes," Regina says against Snow's skin. "And you're already laying yourself down for me."
"Oh," Snow says, but the sensations are drumming together now, beat upon touch upon blinding need, and soon her body seems to be tearing itself apart, but instead of pain she feels only a surge of happiness. She is alive, she is young, and she is loved. She has always been loved, and she will be loved again.
Regina is crying when her fingers finally still, and she pulls away from Snow so suddenly it feels like a bereavement.
"Regina?" Snow calls after her, staring up at the stained glass in the windows.
"Clean yourself up," Regina calls back. "Your father will be back any moment, and we're expected at dinner."
Fumbling with her clothes, Snow knows the corset is a lost cause, and she pulls her cloak around herself instead.
"Can we do this another time?" She asks, catching Regina just by the door to the chapel. "I feel there is more you could teach me."
"No," Regina says. "You should change, and we can greet your father in the gardens as a nice surprise."
She pulls a fur hat seemingly from nowhere, and places it on her head.
"Come along, Snow White," Regina chides, retreating into her role as Queen. "And remember, not a word to anyone."
"I won't breathe a word," Snow promises, completely solemn until she dares press a kiss to Regina's cheek, and there's no stopping the smile that breaks out. "Thank you, Regina."
"I'll see you by the apple tree," Regina says, curt and distant again. "Don't be long."