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

A/N: If you feel inclined, please review. I really appreciate feedback. Also, I needed to demarcate two sections in the chapter, but could not figure out how to do this. Consequently, the formatting is a bit wonky. Thanks for reading!

The Subtlety of Good Ale

Prudently, Snow stood in silence, anticipating the huntsman's re-entrance. At once aware that she must not be discovered, she could not entirely quell an uncanny feeling: she preferred it when she and the huntsman were on the same team, at odds with the rest of the world. The rushed beat of her heart, relentlessly pounding against her chest, was not an unfamiliar feeling.

Months ago, when she and the huntsman had been on their quest, such a feeling had plagued her. During that time, she had felt unhinged by the exhilaration of their adventure; only the huntsman's calm, uncouth, brick-like presence had acted as a respite against the sure promise of death. Now, locked in the huntsman's bathing room, she felt the same camaraderie that she had once felt back then. It felt good to be on a team again.

Yet she feared that this desire for closeness could only be achieved through transgressive acts. Was this the price of being the queen?

Snow barely had time to process this question when the huntsman rushed into the room, closing the heavy wooden door behind him.

He looked concerned, but not defeated by the circumstances.

Hurriedly, he motioned her towards the door, and calmly explained, "Gavin is our untimely visitor. He is a queen's guard – perhaps you have seen him before. He has come to alert us of an investigation into your whereabouts, led by Lord Borthwick's men. You must leave with Gavin."

Snow could scarcely glean the hooded figure standing in the archway of the opened door.

She quietly asked, "How do you know Gavin? And why would Lord Borthwick be on the lookout for me? He is barely acquainted to the council… surely Gavin must be mistaken."

The huntsman paused before answering, "Gavin and I go way back. From the same town, we are; enlisted in the army together. He owes me one. But Lord Borthwick, that's a fellow I cannot speak to. I have heard rumours though…"

"What kind of rumours?" Snow hastily responded, already alarmed by his apparent distrust of the councilman.

"Dark ones. You must know him better than I do. Being on the council and all that. But the rumour goes that when Duke Hammond escaped Ravenna, Borthwick was in no rush to follow him. He had no interest in disposing Ravenna from the throne. She supposedly paid him off. But when the tide turned, and the rightful heir arose from the ashes…"

Here the huntsman smiled at her, continuing, "Borthwick then re-appeared on the scene, contrite and full of shite. He said that the queen had brainwashed him with her magic. That he was loyal to King Magnus and his daughter. God knows why he's following you tonight."

Immediately overwhelmed by this information, Snow lowered her head in thought. The news about Borthwick percolated in her mind.

"And how did you come across this information about Borthwick?" She finally inquired.

"Aye, good question. Gavin, come in here, mate."

The cloaked man eased into the room, his gait unhurried and relaxed. Gavin did not remove his hood, and from Snow's position, she could only apprehend his tall build and his dark beard, which was thickly spread across his severe jaw.

Gavin said, "No time for chitchat, I'm afraid. Borthwick's men will be here in moments, your Highness."

Gavin's no nonsense pragmatism had its desire effects. While Snow wanted nothing more than to continue their conversation about Borthwick, the huntsman had other ideas. He easily manoeuvred Snow to the doorway, following Gavin, who had already retreated into the dark corridor.

She wondered what Gavin must think about the present situation: did he now distrust her as the chosen leader of Tabor or did he think that she was honest and brave for choosing the huntsman as her lover?

The huntsman disrupted her ruminations with an impassioned, yet distracted kiss. His mouth heatedly glided across her lips, in an act of lustful remembrance. Fearful that this might be their last kiss, she felt as if his lips were imprinting hers. Yet this moment together did not – could not – last.

He removed his hand from her back and with a knowing look, watched as she turned away, under the archway and into the dark corridor.

Snow did not say goodbye or seek out some kind of promise from him. Their earlier conversation had not progressed towards a resolution, and given the rushed situation, she realized that it would be fruitless to try again.

Besides, she thought, he was intractable about this matter of blood. She felt no pleasure in the thought of convincing him that he was worthy of the Crown. She would have to allow him to arrive at his own conclusions about their relationship.

As she stepped into the corridor, the huntsman closed the door behind her. She could not immediately see Gavin in the darkness.

"Over here. Follow me, Your Highness." A bright light suddenly erupted. Gavin lit a torch and was now metres ahead of her. Snow hurried behind him, lost in her thoughts. She knew the way back to her chamber, but wondered whether Gavin would take the same route, which was likely riddled with observant attendants.

Sharing her concerns, he said, "This path I'm taking is longer than usual, but is rarely frequented by servants. Only guards go this way, and I suspect we won't have much trouble there. Borthwick's men are mostly located on the South side of the castle. But be sure to keep your cloak tight around your face."

Snow followed his instructions, deeply aware of the necessity of anonymity.

She struggled to curtail her curiosity, as she wanted to ask Gavin more questions about Borthwick and his ties to the huntsman. She attempted to distract herself with the unfamiliar landscape of the castle; she realized that knowledge of this pathway could prove useful in the future.

Time quickly passed as they traversed the curved and stoned route to her chamber; still, they did not encounter a familiar face. Sooner than she expected, they rounded a corner which she knew led to the 'Queen's Quarters.'

Gavin stopped here. No longer in a rush, he resumed the casual ambivalence he had earlier displayed in the huntsman's chamber. Snow could see him more clearly now; his face looked younger than she had expected. He had alert, dark eyes and a serious smile.

As she prepared to thank him for his kindness, he intervened, saying, "This is where we part. And remember, Your Highness, as long as rivers flow in Tabor, you have a loyal servant in me. You see, I am no fool. The people of Tabor owe you."

His words evoked the huntsman's earlier observation: they owe you for their lives…

Snow stretched out her hand to thank him. Gavin made a move to kneel before her, but she intervened and surprised him with a brisk handshake. He smiled at her forwardness and without another word, left her in the corridor.

Suddenly exhausted, Snow hurried to her chamber. Two guards resolutely stood before the door to her room; they watched in apparent disinterest as she approached them. Without a word, one of the guards stepped aside and eased the heavy doors open. Snow nodded, appreciative of their discretion.

Though her absence had apparently awakened the interest of Borthwick and his men, her own guards revealed no outward curiosity toward her whereabouts. Yet Snow was not so naïve. She knew that her safety was one of the central priorities of the castle; no doubt, every guard and servant was informed of her visit to the huntsman's chamber.

Secluded in her room, Snow set to discard her borrowed cloak and crumpled shift. She blushed at the thought of her destroyed dress, now the property of the huntsman; she wondered what he would do with the remains of her clothes. Probably burn them.

A door on the far side of the room creaked open and Snow welcomed Mary, her servant, with a small wave. Mary, young and newly employed at the castle, blushed as she entered the room. With ease, she attended the fire and collected Snow's clothes.

"Shall I draw a bath for you, my queen?" Mary squeaked, shooting her quick glance at Snow.

"No. I only desire sleep. Thank you, though."

Snow had not readjusted to the life of nobility. She felt uncomfortable under the constant gaze of others; especially when that gaze traversed the boundaries of public and private spaces.

Snow briefly wondered if she should confide in Mary about her visit to the huntsman. She was uncertain about the protocols of their relationship. Was she supposed to preserve a semblance of distance between her and Mary? Or was it acceptable to treat her servant as a friend?

Snow typically loathed relationships based on rank, but since coronation, she had felt pressured to uphold tradition. She decided that she would act as naturally as possible. Who could fault her for that?

"Goodnight, Mary. Sleep well," Snow said, as she slid into her warm bed. She barely heard the girl's cheery reply, as the pull of sleep overtook her. Snow embraced the deadened state, exhausted by the events of the evening. Tomorrow, she hoped, would bring clarity.

HHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Snow awoke with an unmistakable feeling of dread. She detangled herself from her sheets and focussed her stare on the vast fields beyond the castle, visible through an adjacent window. She could not exactly locate the cause of her unease. That is to say, she could not trace her anxiety back to the events of last night; neither the huntsman nor Lord Borthwick had particularly upset her.

Yet, she sensed that her troubles were implicitly related to her relationships with men. Snow felt as though she were a sun, endlessly circled by an orbit of men. At that moment, she desperately wished that her mother was alive, not only to provide guidance, but to protect her.

As Snow prepared to retrieve clothes from a colossal, wooden wardrobe, Mary entered the room.

"Your Highness," Mary breathed, "let me help you. I have returned with your breakfast. We must hurry, Sir William is here. Shall I tell him that you wish to visit with him?"

"Yes, of course. Please tell him to join me," Snow replied, lifting her arms as Mary struggled to clothe her in a modest silk gown.

Fully dressed, Snow absently watched as Mary left the chamber to receive William. Snow drifted over to the sitting area, where a large platter of expertly arranged fruit, bread, and cheese lay on a small table. She positioned herself on a comfortable oak and leather chaise beside the table.

The prospect of visiting with William did not alarm her. In fact, over course of a fortnight, the two had settled into an easy routine. Most mornings, he would join her as she ate her breakfast. She was relieved that their childhood friendship had resumed itself so quickly. With age, William had transformed into a welcomed ally and necessary confidante.

As Snow debated the merits of grapes and oranges (apples had been banned since coronation), Mary re-entered the chamber, followed by William. He hesitantly smiled as he sat across from her.

"Your Highness… shall I leave now? Or do you desire more drink and food?"

"We are perfectly satisfied. Thank you, Mary."

Mary curtsied and moved to exit the room. William watched, visibly amused by the girl's enthusiasm.

"You are pleased with your servant, I expect?" He asked, drawing a cup of tea to his mouth.

"Yes. Mary is a lovely girl."

"And… how are you? Were you happy with the council meeting?"

"Yes, I suppose it went better than expected," she answered. She was nimbly aware of an unspoken strain in the conversation. She was unsettled by William's sudden formality.

"Yes, I agree. I was relieved by the group's unanimity."

William had recently been appointed to the council in his father's stead. This was no small honour. William was deathly serious about his new responsibilities. Snow was heartened to have a friendly face on the council.

After a lull in the conversation, William purposely cleared his throat, and with an air of indifference, calmly asked, "And I expect the huntsman received the news of his forthcoming knighthood in kind?"

Snow, unbalanced by his question, paused before answering. She knew that she could answer quite simply – a yes or a no would suffice. And yet, Snow felt as if this response was somehow inadequate. She had never been a person who could easily convert truth into lies. She felt no goodness in spinning falsehoods, especially in the service of deceiving a friend. Conversely, how could she possibly share with him the events of the previous evening?

Her friendship with William was built on guileless, uncomplicated memories from childhood. She feared that an honest answer to his question would create a chasm in their friendship. How could she preserve the innocence of the past?

"Snow," William said, suspending her thoughts. "You are visibly troubled by my words. I fear that the huntsman upset you.

His genuine concern for her well-being transposed his former awkwardness. Snow hurried to assure him that she was fine.

"I should tell you that the huntsman has not accepted knighthood."

Snow thought that William might find the absurdity of this fact amusing, but was dismayed to see his kind face contorted in anger.

"He spurns the Crown! The nerve of that man… he is utterly reckless."

In an attempt to diffuse the situation, Snow provided, "funny, he said the same thing, actually. He is aware of his offense to the Crown."

"Aye. Sounds like him. Too clever for his own good."

William sought to add something to this comment, but hesitated over his next words.

His dark eyes were fixed on her face. With his palms pressed against his knees, William leaned towards Snow.

"Please forgive me if I am too forward… but there are unkind rumours circulating in the castle. It affects both you and the huntsman. They say that you spent hours alone in the huntsman's room."

Snow was numbed, not from his revelation but from his hopeful gaze. She felt as if William's speech had cornered her. It was clear that he wanted the rumours to be untrue and that it was her task to dispel his lingering doubt. The gauze of innocence that surrounded her was ripping open. Again, she felt no desire to lie to her friend.

Snow answered, "The rumours are true. Borthwick's men do not lie – or so I have heard."

With more composure, she said, "As you have likely observed, the huntsman and I have had little conversation since coronation. We had much to discuss last night."

"Aye. I noticed that your friendship with the huntsman had cooled. I thought it strange… you were so close before… well, before Ravenna's death. It surprised me that you did not seek him out after coronation. I think, perhaps, I was cheered by this."

Snow nodded, not entirely startled by his confession. She was aware of William's respect for the huntsman but, but also understood his reservations.

With more ease, he added, "Your Highness, you must understand that your dealings with the huntsman are monitored. You are correct that Borthwick watches you. Last night, one of his attendants was expressly sent to my father's quarters to alert him of your disappearance. I, myself, understood that you were in no danger. The fact alone of the huntsman's presence was enough to satisfy me. I give credit where credit is due. That man would happily die protecting you."

Snow had to suppress a sudden desire to scream. She felt trapped by this cabal of men.

Unaware of her irritation, William pressed on. "Listen. Though the huntsman can protect you from outward danger, he still presents a threat. Remember, now that you are queen, there are certain traditions that you must uphold."

In a saccharine laced voice, Snow sarcastically rebutted, "Thank you, dearest William, for reminding me of my duties. Whatever would I do without your novel advice? I suppose you would prefer me to cut all ties with the Dwarves too? Say goodbye to Beith, Muir and Coll? Piss on all those… lower beings… who helped save our arses only a month ago!"

With an exasperated sigh, William sat back in the chaise. Throwing up his arms in defeat, he said, "Of course I do not want you to 'piss' on the Dwarves, as you so neatly put it. Do not forget that I was the one who advocated the huntsman for knighthood! In spite of what you must think, I do care about the damned drunk! He is a good man. But he is no King."

His words openly broached the unsaid. Snow breathed in, prepared to confront her heart's desire.

Immediately, she sought to push William farther on the subject. "And I suppose you are a model King?"

Laughing, William answered, "Yes. I bloody well am a 'model King'. I have been raised to assume this role. You know that. But I suppose, that is not really the issue at hand."

Snow noticed a softer emotion overtake his hard features. Nervously, he raked his hand through his dishevelled hair. With a deep breath, he said, "If you really do not want me, then I will do everything in my power to enable your happiness. But… you must understand that I stand alone on this issue. The others will not follow me. Don't you see? The council will never allow this marriage. My fear is that if you pursue this relationship, you will be hurt."

"He said the same thing; perhaps you are not so unalike."

More confidently, she said, "I understand your concerns, but you must remember, if I had followed your advice before – if I had done everything in my power to avoid pain and heartache – we would not be alive today! Perhaps it is time for you to trust me."

"Snow, I agree that you have confronted evil of the worst kind, but you have no comprehension of politics! In time, you will understand the inner workings of Tabor, but for now, you must accept that you are a beginner! Besides… who would accept the huntsman as King?"

"The people will accept him."

William, unlike the huntsman, did not immediately rebuke her claim. She could tell that his mind was churning with unresolved thoughts.

Finally, he answered, "Yes. I see your logic. It is not entirely absurd. The people do in fact celebrate the huntsman. Or so I have heard. Yet, Snow… do you remember the last time a monarch married a commoner?"

She shook her head.

"Ravenna," he said. "King Magnus married Ravenna, a supposed peasant, a beautiful nobody."

He did not need to add, 'and look how that unfolded'; the implication of inevitable doom was clear enough without additional commentary.

Snow was deeply affected by his observation. Yet an overwhelming feeling of anger prevailed. She felt as if he was simply trying to scare her.

Calmly, she said, "I suppose that my father's marriage sets an ill precedent. But, you must agree that this situation is quite different. We know Eric… the huntsman, I mean. We know he is good. You said it yourself."

William nodded. Like Snow, he was unable to lie to his friend.

Moved by his honesty, Snow found herself asking, "Please, William. Tell me that you will help me."

"What can I do?"

"Talk to your father. Ask his advice. Ask him how I should proceed in this matter."

"So there it is. You have alluded to your relationship with the huntsman, but I am not entirely convinced of it. I will help you, but I need to hear you say it."

"What? What do you want me to say?"

"Tell me the truth. Tell me that you are in love with him and that you entreat to marry him."

Snow sucked in, having anticipated this moment since their conversation had first begun. Yet William's words seemed to release her. She felt surprised by the boldness and force of her desire. She realized, suddenly, that she would do anything to be with the huntsman.

"Yes. I see. You are right, of course. I am sorry… I should have been clearer before," she said. "I am in love with Eric. Perhaps you have already deduced what happened a month ago… nevertheless, I shall tell you. The huntsman's kiss awakened me."

He looked at her in surprise. Snow suddenly felt the weight of her confession. She could no longer deny William's feelings for her.

Before she could try to remedy the situation, he said, "To me, you are the paradigm of womanhood. I worship you, Snow. When were separated, I used to speak to you. Did I ever tell you that?"

She shook her head.

He hesitantly added, "I know it sounds strange, but after we parted as children, I could not let you go. You were still so real to me. And then… when I learned the news of your escape, it was as if my heart had been returned to me. For the first time in my pitiful existence, I felt alive. But when I finally found you, I felt an overwhelming sense of loss. It was completely absurd! I found you alive and reasonably healthy, and yet it was not enough. Do not mistake me. You are more beautiful, intelligent and kinder than I could ever have imagined as a child. Yet… yet, I understand now that I was in love with a memory."

Snow nodded, encouraging him to continue. She was revived by his words. Somehow he had articulated her innermost feelings about him.

"And yet, I cannot sublate my desire for you. Despite these feelings of uncertainty, I had still hoped that we would marry."

"Aye. I understand. The happy ending is deeply seductive."

"Do you remember the tales our parents once told us?"

"With the joyous princesses and princes?"

"Aye."

"And yet, we should not be so glum. Remember, we still love each other. You are my dearest friend."

Snow took his hand and held it close to her lap. The two sat together in comfortable silence. Yet the moment was short lived; William sought to leave her chamber. He could not conceal his hurt.

Rising from the chaise, he said, "I will speak to my father on your behalf. I will also ask him about Borthwick… I do not trust that man."

"Thank you. Truly."

Before departing, he inquired, "Pray tell, does the huntsman want to be the King of Tabor?"

"Absolutely not. I think the idea is abhorrent to him."

William looked distraught at her words; he gripped the door and then laughed, if only to diffuse his sadness.

"This man does not deserve you."

"Aye," she said, also in laughter.

He quietly added, "But then, perhaps no man does."

Without another word, he exited the room, leaving Snow alone with her thoughts.

TBC…