Chapter One: A Caged Bird Flaps Its Wings.

She had lost track of time years ago, and had she not communicated with the castle maids, she would have no idea how significant this day was. The head maid, Lydia, was the one to bring Maria's food, across the yard, up the stairs, and past the guards. Today, Lydia managed to sneak some pastries to Maria, although it was a measly attempt at a present. Maria watched the birds fly around her window and from tree to tree, calling to one another; she envied them beyond belief. A subtle knock faintly echoed off the stone walls.

"Come in," she sighed carelessly.

"Good afternoon, Miss Maria," Lydia addressed politely. Lydia was beautiful, piercing green eyes, soft brown hair, and face dusted with a bit of a rosy-pink; the only thing that kept her as a maid was the scar on her cheek, sharp and violent. The queen saw her beauty as a threat and sliced into her cheek with a piece of scrap metal; Lydia could never be perfect with a scar.

"I told you to call me 'Maria.'" Maria smiles softly.

"I'm sorry," Lydia replies quickly.

"It's fine, ha-ha, so how are you?" Maria places her tiny piece of charcoal down, abandoning her sketch for the time being.

"I'm just wonderful; Eric is taking me out on a walk through the garden later!"

"That truly is wonderful!" Oh, how she wished she could leave this room and the distasteful castle.

"Oh, but it's not as wonderful as your day!" Lydia claps her hands together as she presents Maria with her food. "I brought you pastries to celebrate!"

"Celebrate?"

"Your birthday, silly!"

"Oh, right. Thank you very much." She hides her discontent with this cage.

"It's a special one too; you're eighteen!"

"Yes, quite the stepping stone isn't it?" Lydia leans over Maria's sketch, admiring the detail.

"This is beautiful! May I ask why the bird looks so miserable?"

"It's caged for too long. For so long, that its feathers are falling, and it fears that it will never see the light of day again."

"You've been in this room for too long. We should sneak you out when we go on our walk!"

"Oh, thank you, Lydia, but I couldn't impose myself on you and Eric."

"Nonsense, when were you last in town?"

"When my father was still well."

"We'll get you out this evening around dinner; I promise." Lydia left with that, and the silence fell upon the room once again. Maria laid her head on the stiff mattress, hardly something a 'princess' should be sleeping on. Matthew, do you still think of me? Or have you found a different princess in my stead? After all, the world thinks I'm deceased.

Voices reverberate through the door; the guards talk of the girl in the room next door. She's beautiful and defenseless; who's to testify if she were to get played around with a bit? The queen wouldn't care; the queen is why the girl is in the room into the first place. One of the men pushes open the door, without the courtesy of knocking; he watches her.

"Ah, Lydia, the dishes are on the bed." She remarks without turning around.

"Don't need those dirtied dishes for nothin'." The guard laughs; she turns around.

"What are you doing in here?!" She attempts to sound bigger than she is.

"Havin' some fun." A smirk pulls across his face. He couldn't possibly mean –

"Leave! I'll request your company when necessary!"

"Aw, just pretend I'm prince Matthew." He laughs.

"Silence! Do not joke about Matthew in that sense!" He begins to approach her in her chair.

"Let's jus' fool 'round a bit, sweetheart!" He grabs her shoulder.

"Don't touch me!" She jumps from her place, grabbing her cloak from the back of the chair. She backs away from the guard. Her heart can be heard all across the village; it's beating so loud.

"Look at her, men. Look how shaken she is from just one touch; think how crazy she'll be in bed." She had a few choices, no, just one: run. She kicks the guard in the shin as hard as she can and, without a second thought, runs as fast as possible out of the room. Her feet stumble down the steps, and she can't breathe. She can't stop either. Her body slams into the door as she tries to open it, but it's rusted and stuck. Her hand tries to push it open. This can't be how it ends. The door slowly and reluctantly screeches open, and as she begins to run again, a guard's hand snags her hair. Her scalp burns at the loss of numerous silvery strands, but she's almost free. That's all that matters. The gate remains open for importations of food and silk robes for the queen, so Maria slides her cloak on quickly, blends in with the merchants, and makes her way into town.

The town, once bustling and happy, is gray and falling apart. People are sad and drag their feet along to their destinations; there is no music. Maria walks along the roads, pulling her cloak closer to hide her identity; a little girl runs past Maria to a house but falls a little ways ahead of Maria. She walks up to the child to help her up and wipe some of the mud from her face. The girl gasps.

"Shhh," Maria reminds solemnly.

"Snow White!" She whispers. "You're alive! Ludwig said you had passed, and that's why this kingdom has suffered for so long. I don't really understand it though."

"What's your name? Is Ludwig your brother?" The girl tilts her head, thinking.

"My name's Chiara, and Ludwig's like my Papa!"

"Oh, that's a beautiful name, and you better get home soon or Ludwig will worry."

"You're right!" She stands up and turns to begin running again, but Maria grabs her arm.

"And remember, you didn't see me at all." Maria reminds, placing a finger over her mouth, motioning silence.

– –

Lydia walks to Maria's room, right before dinner as she promised. She makes her way to the steps, walks up the staircase to the door of Maria's room, and knocks. No answer. Lydia knocks again. No answer. She opens the door to find an empty room, walks around inspecting random items, and notices the picture of the caged bird. How it must have felt to be in here so long; I'm so sorry, Maria. She walks out of the room, closing the door behind her and praying for Maria's safety. The queen would go on a killing spree just to find Maria, poor girl.

Chapter One: Good News.

Ludwig wanders out of the forest with a deer on his shoulders. Today was a success; animals like this could provide him with a decent amount of silver and meat for a little while. With that silver, he could finally buy that stuffed rabbit that Chiara wanted so badly. He staggers into town to the butcher; all this heavy lifting, according to the town physician, is bad for his knee. With heavy game, came heavy lifting, and it was all worth it in the end. He kicks open the door to the butcher's and lies the deer on the floor.

"Florence," he calls around for the butcher. The butcher appears in his red smeared apron, his dark brown hair matted to his forehead, his eyes sunken in from lack of sleep because of the cold, and his hands were caked with blood of all sorts.

"Ludwig, my favorite!" He calls from the counter. "So what do you have for me today? A few fowl?"

"Nope, I grabbed you a deer today." Ludwig motions to the carcass on the ground by his feet.

"My God, Ludwig, I don't see how you move those things around!" Florence jokes.

"It's not good for my knee; I'll admit." Ludwig shrugs.

"So what can I do ya for?"

"I just want two pounds of meat and the rest you can buy off of me."

"That's a deal; could you just bring it in the back for me?"

"Sure," he leans down and lifts the deer onto his shoulders again; he places it down where Florence requests and walks back to the counter with him.

"So here's your fifteen silver and two pounds of meat." Florence wraps the meat in a parcel type paper and counts the silver on the counter. "It was a pleasure doing business with you, like always, an' tell Chiara I said 'hi,' would'ya?"

"Sure, thanks a lot, Florence." Ludwig bids his farewell as he walks out into the biting cold. One more stop, and then home. I've got to hurry, don't want Chiara worrying or anything. He jogs to the makeshift market in the center of town, scans the wobbly looking stands for the pale fabric of the stuffed rabbit that Chiara pointed out the other time they came here, and spots the rabbit out of his peripherals; relief washes away his anxiety. "Good evening."

"Ah, Ludwig, I assume you're here for this little fellow?" The woman smiles, holding up the stuffed rabbit. Wrinkles have set into her face over the years, and although her vision is lacking, her sewing is perfect.

"Of course," he sighs.

"I saved it for you, because your little Chiara wanted it so badly. You're too good to her."

"I try, ha-ha. So how much?" He already begins counting out silver pieces.

"Five, if you don't mind." He hands her five pieces, and she hands over the animal.

"Thank you so very much." He smiles.

"You take care now."

"I will." He calls over his shoulder as he rushes home. He stumbles a bit on the uneven cobblestone but soon recovers with his house in view. He slows to walk to catch his breath, so he doesn't look like he ran all this way. He stops at his doorstep to gain his composure, opens the door, and walks over to the small table. "Hey, Chiara, look what I got for you." Chiara jumps up and runs over to the table, excited about this mystery gift.

"It's Mr. Rabbit!" She jeers, hugging the rabbit close.

"Yeah," he smiles.

"Guess who I saw?!" She mentions.

"Who?"

"I saw the princess!"

"What?!" He jumps up from the table. "She's alive?!"

"She was running away..."

"Maybe you confused her with someone else. She'd never turn her back on her subjects like that; her father taught her better."

– –

Another long day, all of it wasted without a single thing to show for his hard work that day. His boots are wet from all the melted snow, as he trudges home. He opens the door to an empty house; all his belongings are thrown left and right. Obviously, something is wrong here. A piece of parchment with gold inlay rests on the table:

"Your presence is requested in the royal castle by the queen, her Majesty."

He crushes the paper in his hand; his feet rush him to the castle, rush him to the queen. So many questions are in his head; all of which better be answered. He throws open the wooden doors without a second thought, alarming the guards who point their weapons at his throat.

"Where is she?!" He accuses.

"Who, my dear?" The queen asks, as if she doesn't know.

"Chiara, where is she?!"

"She's fine, really, but I must insist that you hear me out." Manipulative tyrant. "Someone stole from me recently. A young woman by the name of 'Maria' stole one of the royal cloaks, so I assume she'll be easy to spot. Find her and bring back her heart, then Chiara's all yours."

"You better swear that she'll be okay!"

"I swear; besides, what do I get from killing a child?" Her smile sickens me.

"Fine, I'll do it." He hangs his head in shame; how could he have been tricked into doing her dirty work?

A/N: So, I never mentioned that the queen is named 'Anna' because that's apparently Russia's female name? Please review.

~FromPrussiaWithLove.