Chapter Four: Something Charming
A few months passed. Red coped with Peter's death and the fact that she was the wolf. Her style morphed, all she wore was black (except the red cloak. Now she always wore the red cloak.). Based on Snow's suggestion, they got rid of all the mirrors in the little house. Granny didn't understand why Snow didn't like mirrors, but she moved all the ones from her room and covered several of the others in sheets. Red was determined to help convert part of the bedroom she shared with Snow into a nursery for her child (which was due any day). The dwarves helped with decorating the humble room and Gepetto, the lonely carpenter who lived up the street, built a crib. Granny taught Snow how to knit a blanket. Any day now, they would welcome the child into the home.
And that day was March 20th.
Red was the second person to hold the child, right after Doc. A healthy little boy, a little boy that would one day be prince and possibly king. Red couldn't believe it: she was holding the heir to the throne! His eyes were closed tightly as she swaddled the baby in his new gray and green blanket. He was so adorable! Red handed the infant to his mother.
For a few moments, Snow just stared at the boy. He had her nose and his father's chin. The little mop of hair on the top of his head was dark as her's was, and no doubt it would curl when it got longer. When she put his hand on his little face his eyes flashed open, the blue color Snow remembered. He would look just like his father, Snow knew, minus the hair. Oh gods, here came the tears.
Snow couldn't help but cry. He would be an everyday reminder of the man she didn't have in her life. She knew he was her first love, and perhaps her last. Snow didn't know her future, or her boy's.
"So what's the little prince's name?" Doc asked, watching mother and child. The boy whimpered as his mother cradled him.
She thought while Granny and Red continued to bustle around the house, cleaning and fixing things up for their household of four. The little prince. Certainly he needed a royal name? Most royal families kept their names within the family. So Leopold? She didn't know her grandfathers on either of her parents's sides. Perhaps Henry, after her stepmother's father. No, that wasn't royal, and she didn't want a constant reminder of her stepmother. What about James, after his father? She didn't want to think about him. Besides, he would always be her Prince Charming, not her James. Why did every family have so many names to choose from and she couldn't find a single one that fit her precious baby boy! Maybe if she just thought... "Eric." Snow said finally, looking down at the child. Yes, Eric was perfect. But the name was a little bare... "Eric Peter Charming."
Red gulped, turning around when she heard the child's full name. "Peter? Like my Peter?" Oh, the bittersweet memory of her Peter. She knew how Snow felt, losing their love. The only difference was that Peter was dead, so she didn't have to hear about him. "It's a lovely name."
"Charming, really." Granny commented, then thought about the full name. Eric Peter Charming. "I mean the name, not the last name."
"I called his father Charming." Snow reminisced. He trapped her in a net and spoke so kindly to her, cutting her down to release the trap like you would with a wild animal. He smiled and they continued their playful banter through the journey and then through the night. Perhaps Eric would be as charming as his father. "Figured if I ever find him, he should have a way to recognize his son."
She hoped he never would have that burden, knowing his child was being raised by a woman other than his wife-to-be.
...later, in another kingdom...
Charming paced back and forth. It was a matter of weeks before he married Abigail, but he couldn't think about her. His mind was wrapped around the brunette that stole his mother's ring and their night together. Oh, how he enjoyed being with her! She was so different than Abigail...
Abigail, his fiancée. She was a sour faced blonde with good intentions and a snobby air. She was never satisfied with anything, and she never wanted to wait. She didn't want to talk to him if she didn't have to, and she kept her distance. James didn't blame her. She and James had nothing in common! Maybe his rendezvous in the woods was somehow parallel to her life…
Snow was so different from Abigail. For every ounce of impatience Abigail had, Snow was just as stubborn. Perhaps the difference was that Snow was patient and Abigail wasn't. Even though Snow had stolen the only memory of his mother from him, she was so compelling he ended up spending longer with her than he had expected. Oh, and how she kissed him! That was burnt into his memory, and he was glad. That playful smile she had, her messy braided hair, the twinkle in her evergreen eyes… she was always in his head.
Gods, thought the prince, is this love?
It was passion and lust. James would call it any word but love. He was engaged (by the force of his "father", but that was still a commitment) and therefore couldn't be in love with another woman. But perhaps he had loved her then, and maybe she loved him for a while. Now though? She hadn't seen him in over a year. If she loved him, they would have never let the other one go. He didn't want to leave…
He had been with another woman, though, while he was still engaged. He had cheated on his fiancée, and he felt absolutely no guilt about it. Would Abigail had felt guilty if she had cheated on him, the man that was only marrying her for riches (just like he promised he would never do)? It didn't really matter in hindsight, because what was done was done. He couldn't change the past.
But, oh, how he wanted to repeat it!
James wanted to see Snow again. It may not have been love, but he felt a very strong connection to the brunette. She called him charming, and he remembered how sweetly that one word rolled off her tongue (even though she was clearly angry at him, being trapped in a net and all). He promised he would find her, and now he wasn't about to break a promise.
Sure, he was betrothed to a princess. But certainly writing a letter wouldn't hurt…
Author's Note: And now we have a charming introduction! Please review, dearies!