Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time, it belongs to ABC. If I owned it, they would have to rename the show "All the snowing feels"
Author's note: Last time I wrote fanfiction (under another penname) was four years ago. So this might just be the worst thing ever written, but wow – I got hooked on Once Upon a Time and got hit by a wave of Snow and Charming feels and then I really couldn't help myself and I wrote this. Hopefully it's not that bad, I would love to hear what you think. It's un-betaed, so I apologize for any mistakes!
Before I turn this author's note into another story: The idea was to write something about Snow and Charming's wedding night (the "unofficial" one). Didn't turn out quite that way, but I hope you like it!
When Snow is twelwe, one of her younger maids fall pregnant.
It is not exactly an uncommon occurence – a number of the maids in the castle are mothers – but something is very different this time. Snow takes notice of the hushed whispers and glares sent in the poor girl's direction from the other servants, and despite how their behavior displeases her, it also makes her wonder.
Has the poor girl done something wrong?
"She isn't married," her governess replies, when Snow asks about it while she is getting ready for bed. As far as the princess can tell, the older woman hasn't been as talkative as the other servants on the subject, but her answer is laced with anger and disappointment.
"Oh," Snow says, but she doesn't quite understand. "And she should be, to be with child?"
Although not directed at Snow, the governess seems further angered by this question, and she pulls back the covers on the bed forcefully, looking as though she has forgotten that Snow is in the room with her.
"It's a disgrace, having a baby out of wedlock, how will she ever provide for a child?! And giving her virtue to a man she is not married to – "
"Virtue?" Snow interrupts, intrigued by the woman's outburst. "What does that mean? Is that what one must to do to have a child?"
The older woman turns to Snow, a horrifed expression on her face. When she finally speaks, she fights to sound composed.
"Mistress Snow, we shouldn't talk about this. It is late, you should be in bed."
"I want to know, I want to know how one gets pregnant. Please do tell, I promise I won't say a word to anyone." Ever since Snow found out about the young maid, she has been wondering about this. She did, subtly, try to ask Regina about it, but her step-mother, whose demeanor seems to turn colder every day, had brushed her off and told her "she shouldn't ask about such things." But Snow is a curious child, and she cannot let it go. Her governess has taught her how to read and write and behave, and Snow cannot fathom why the old, wise woman is reluctant to teach her about this.
When Snow looks up, she is pleased to find that the woman seems more amused than afraid, and the princess knows she will finally get her answer.
"Dearest Snow, I am certain that you wouldn't even want to tell anyone."
Her governess is right. Blushingly, the older woman tells the princess what happens between a man and a woman in bed, and as she finishes, she as not at all surprised that Snow finds her words completely horrifying.
"That is unheard of! I can tell you one thing, I will never give my virtue to anyone. I cannot even understand why someone would want to."
The governess, although afraid to overstep her boundaries, cannot help herself.
"Snow, one day you might fall in love, and then I can assure you that your distaste for such an act will diminish."
The young princess only huffs in response.
She pulls her hood further down as she enters the tavern, hiding her identity. Her nearest hideout in the forest is miles away, and she is tired and hungry and needs desperately to get away from the biting cold outside.
She thinks it must be Christmas soon, judging by the worn decorations hanging on hooks and chairs around the tavern. Snow pushes away the thought of her last Christmas in the castle with her father, and finds a dark corner, ready to devour her food.
She finishes the meal far too quickly, and retreats further into the corner, wanting to stay inside for a little longer. She regrets it almost immediately. Taking more notice of the other people in the tavern, she sees that they are happily singing, dancing and laughing, and suddenly there's an ache in her chest that she knows all to well, one that she tries to fight every day.
Wanting to distract herself from the pain, she scoots a little closer to the nearest table, listening in to the loud, clearly intoxicated discussion the men around neighboring table are having.
The conversation topic is more than a little unsuitable. It seems that a few rounds of ale is what it takes for these men to boast about their conquests - and how they have thoroughly ravished these women. Their attention to detail sickens the fallen princess, yet oddly it reminds her of the first time she was told of the dance as old as time. She shakes her head, trying to stop her thoughts from taking that path. Her governess. The castle. Her father. Exiting the tavern, she gathers all her strength and willpower to think of her next move. One step further away from the Queen. She cannot think of what's she's lost.
But more importantly, cannot think of what she can never have. If she was still a princess, living in a castle, she might have found love, might still believed in it.
The thought of sharing a bed with a man doesn't disgust her as much as it did when she was a little girl, but she will never forget the vindictive words of her servants. It would only be with someone she was married to. Someone she loved.
She told Red that having someone wasn't in her future, and to that she holds. There is nothing that will stop her determination to get out of this realm. It is not fulfilling, wanting nothing more than to get away, to survive, to merely exist. All she knows is that she will never let her stepmother take her heart. Snow is so close to achieving her goal, and it is the only thing that keeps her going.
Not even a year later, someone else takes her heart, and she finds a reason to really live.
Her old governess once told her that there would come a time when Snow would understand the disgraced young maid's actions, even though her twelve year old self thought otherwise. Her teacher's revelation disgusted her, and she declared, with childish assuredness, that she would never understand why someone, married or not, would take part in such an act.
She is not a child anymore. She stopped being a child the moment the Huntsman told her to run, and she knew she had to fight for her right to live.
She's a not a girl. She's a woman. And maybe her old self would scoff at such words, but she is a woman in love.
Engaged.
The person she was right after she met him, hated herself for thinking about him, and wanted more than anything to forget the yearning, the fire in her heart that grew everyday, the daydreaming.
Being used to looking over her shoulder for such a long time, it was hard to believe that sometimes her dreams would still come true. Her stepmother is still looking for her, seeking retaliation, but Snow doesn't want to hide, or be afraid. She has him, and that thought alone is what makes her the happiest she´s ever been. Pathetic as it may seem, she wants spend every moment with him, and even though they are fighting for their happy ending, she hates that she rarely gets to spend time alone with him.
It is in those rare moments she loses herself, drowns in the feel of her prince Charming. When he kisses her, every nerve in her body is ablaze, and every touch, however innocent, makes her yearn for more. She wants, she wants, more, more of him.
The hunger to go further quickly becomes unbearable. They are by themselves in the tent one night, and she decides that she wants to look at his arrow wound, the one she inflicted upon him.
"It was my fault" he smilingly protests, "and it was a small price to pay for getting you back."
Even if Snow thinks he is wrong, she doesn´t even bother to hide her smile. "So charming," she says and instructs him to sit. He divests himself of his doublet and tunic, and there is no mistaking the hitch in her breathing as she looks at him, chest bare. He doesn't mention it – knowing she has the same effect on him, just watches her with glowing eyes as she begins to tend to the wound.
What happens after, or rather, in the middle of her careful nurturing is hazy. She is in his lap, long legs locked around his waist, head on his shoulder, his tongue tracing lines on her neck. Snow claws desperately on her love's back, liquid heat pooling in her belly. She feels as though she's about to fly apart with every touch of his lips, and she just wants more, she wants all of him.
The sound of horses from outside the tent pulls them apart. Charming looks up, and Snow watches as the hunger in his gaze fades and is replaced by guilt. She knows he wants to apologize. He has promised himself to never go that far with her before they are married, but they both know how easy it is to lose themselves in each other when they get the chance. She want's to say that she doesn't care, that she don't want to wait, but she doesn't forget her old governess' words either. They are to be married, and she can tell it pains him, especially now, but he wants to do it right. Even though it frustrates her, she loves him even more for it.
If Snow were to meet her governess now, she would certainly admit that she was wrong. And most certainly, she would have asked how to resist the temptation.