Chapter 10: Change

After another night filled with restless, fractured dreams, Snow woke to a new day at the mines. This time she managed to wake with the others, their whispers and the rustling of bedclothes dragging her away from fragile sleep. Snow half-expected to find her mind changed in the not-light of the new day, but her decision still held firm. She only had to tell it to those that waited her answer.

Snow tried to gather her courage during breakfast, acutely aware of the glances Eric and William directed towards her. Both men were somber and quiet, sitting away from Snow and from each other. She picked her food listlessly, her earlier appetite gone. Guiltily, Snow remembered the storage room and the lengthy efforts people went to fill it up, and tried to enjoy her breakfast more. But her stomach was queasy; the tension and the suspense of the coming conversation made her highly-strung, nauseous.

She imagined the responses she was likely going to get, all of them making her stomach (and heart) sink further, almost making her change her mind. Snow looked at him, so far across the cave, soon so much farther away from her still, and the dread was like a physical thing, coiling around her and squeezing mercilessly. How could she ever tell him of her decision? How could she ever disappoint him so?

Soon breakfast was over, and for a moment Snow contemplated on finding some task to occupy herself with. Dishes would need to be washed, and surely there would be other chores as well, where she could be of help. But it would only delay the inevitable. Best to get it over with.

With a heavy heart, Snow followed Eric to the main tunnel. He looked over his shoulder, saw her following, and with a determined expression continued to walk ahead. She knew without asking that he was going to lead her somewhere where they could talk in private. However, the mine was not a place where privacy was easy to find, not with dozens of people about. There were people in the caves, people in the clearing, people going up and down the tunnels.

Eric's steps didn't halt; he went forward with a single-minded intensity. Soon they turned right and were in a familiar cave stored with non-perishable goods. Snow saw with both relief and trepidation that the storage space was empty. They were finally alone.

The cave was dark, and Eric's torch was the only thing illuminating it. Snow waited, heart thudding, as he put the torch into the iron holder on the wall. Hands free, the huntsman stood facing the opposite wall, his back to her. His broad shoulders were tense, and he quivered with unleashed strength. Then he sighed deeply, the sound oddly loud in the silence, and turned to face her. Snow trembled, and clenched her hands. Her chest felt too tight, full of things she struggled to give voice to.

"I have thought about what you said…I have thought about it a lot," Snow began with a shaky voice. "I want you to know that this was not an easy decision to make."

Eric was looking at her with a steady, deep gaze, his eyes dark in the dusky cave. His face told her nothing. Snow swallowed, her throat dry, and thought about what she wanted to say. He deserved the truth. He deserved everything she could give him.

"I want to go with you…" How she wanted it; it seemed she had never wanted anything so badly. "I do, please believe me. But I have to stay." There, she had said it.

Eric's unreadable face broke into a small, sad smile. "I know. I knew it even before I asked," he said. Almost as if an afterthought, he added, "But I had to ask."

"I was glad that you did," Snow admitted, her heart aching. And then, because she had to make him understand, she broke into a jumbled, hasty, anxious explanation, "But you understand why I have to stay? She is sitting on my father's throne, terrorizing, killing his people, and – and she is never going to stop hunting me, never. I know, I know, there is a very big chance that I can do nothing to change how things are – I don't even know how I can help the resistance – but I have to try. I can't run away anymore."

He was looking at her with a curious warmth and sadness, and when Snow had finally ran out of air and explanation, he said almost gently, "I understand."

She hesitated, afraid to put her wish, her want, into words. It would be a selfish thing to ask. Haltingly, heart hammering, she said, "I…I know that I have no right to ask this…but I would be so glad – I want you to stay here with me, I would be so glad if you could." It was selfish, but she had to ask. For Snow thought she would regret it forever, if she didn't take a chance, however fleeting, however small, that he would say yes. She continued quickly, "But I understand if you want to go, I do. And you should – it'll probably be safer there and I know you hate being underground. But I am going to – somehow, I am going to learn how to defeat her, and if you would help me – but if you can't, I understand. You have done so much for me already." Her desperate words slowed, tapered, vanished into silence.

"Of course I'll stay," Eric's smile was wide and bright, filling the gloomy cave.

Snow couldn't help herself; her happiness immense and blinding, she rushed to him, hugging him with all her might. She was so relieved, so glad. He would stay with her; they would not have to part. The hard and desperate task of fighting the queen suddenly felt a little less hard and not so desperate. They could do it together. She hid her face in the nook of his shoulder, breathed his familiar scent.

He whispered into her hair, "What made you think I would go anywhere without you?"

Her laugh sounded more like a sob. Twining her arms around his neck, Snow stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips against his. The gentle press of her mouth against his was fleeting and slight. Still, it felt shocking, momentous, sudden. She hadn't planned it; she had just done it, spur of the moment, the urgent need to give him something back strong and undeniable.

Snow looked at Eric, her hands still around his neck. "I owed you a kiss," she explained, blushing. Eric's arms were holding her waist, firm and constant. There was heat in his eyes, searing her to the bone.

"I remember," he said, his smile shaking her whole being. She was on uneven ground, the world shifting and shuddering all around her. Only his strong arms were holding her up on her feet. Eric looked intently at her lips, and Snow was suddenly breathless.

He gave her time to step back, moving so slowly closer to her, his lips inching towards hers. Snow didn't withdraw, didn't step away from his embrace. She knew he was going to kiss her; she wanted him to kiss her. Her heart fluttered wildly, and when his lips finally found hers, she closed her eyes.

Their second kiss was definitely longer and more solid than the first. His mouth was firm, settling against hers with confidence and desire. When his lips coaxed her mouth open and pressed in, she couldn't help the small, surprised sound from escaping. He kissed her steadfast and yearning and little desperate; like he had waited forever to kiss her, like he had thought he never could.

The kiss lasted forever, but still, all too soon they parted. Snow gasped for air, head reeling. Carefully, Eric let go of her and took a small step back. She felt an irrational pang of loss, momentarily overriding the joy that was still pulsing and throbbing inside her almost painfully. He looked at her intently, as if searching for something in her.

"You are alright," Eric said gruffly, but the anxiousness in his tone made it more a question than a statement.

Snow nodded and smiled, not trusting herself to speak. It seemed it was enough to appease the huntsman, for he smiled back, relaxed.

"Well, I'll go find Thomas and tell him that we'll stay," Eric said. "Are you coming?"

"You go, I – I am going to stay here for a little while," Snow didn't think her deep blush or her fiercely beating heart would calm down any time soon, and she didn't want to be seen until she was more composed. Like this, everyone would surely guess what had happened. Her mixed feelings were too raw, too bare to be exposed to other people's scrutiny.

Eric seemed to understand, for he only smiled slightly, "I'll leave the torch." Anticipating her protest, he continued, "I can find my way in the dark." Without another word he turned to leave, and Snow watched as he vanished into the black opening of the tunnel.

-o-

Snow sat on a wooden barrel, her thoughts darting around, jumbled and tumultuous. One moment, she was thinking about what the others would think about their staying, would they be glad, what William would say. The next moment, she would worry how she could help the resistance, had she made a right decision after all, what if there would be nothing for her to do – and then her thoughts would inevitably turn to Eric, his lips on hers, the way he had looked at her, said that he would stay –

It was all a big, messy tangle. But one thing Snow was sure of: everything had changed. Hadn't it?

She would no longer be a guest, but a member, one among many. She would no longer be an onlooker, but a participant. Instead of running away, she would fight back. And Eric…in addition to being friends, they were now something more. She had kissed him, and he had kissed her back. Maybe the first kiss could be considered as friendly, a kiss between friends, confidants. But the second hadn't been anything like she had ever experienced. It had been her first, true kiss. And that meant they were something more than friends, didn't it?

Frustrated and tired with her warring thoughts, Snow took a deep breath and closed her eyes. How could she ever join the others like this, restless and disarrayed, distracted with her thoughts and questions? Snow sought to quiet her mind; slowly she imagined the doubts behind locked doors, the questions into the darkness of the endless tunnel. The uncertain future became just a ripple under the surface, and other thoughts she smoothed and gathered into an unobtrusive ball.

The kiss she didn't bear to banish or to make just one tendril of thought among many. Instead, she made it invisible to anyone else but herself. Hidden, it would always be close to her mind, closer still to her heart.

Feeling much calmer and more settled than before, Snow opened her eyes. The firelight flickered on the wall, reaching towards the dark of the tunnel. The tunnel to the pool. Suddenly, she wanted to see it again.

Snow took the torch from the wall and headed for the pool, the memory of it clear on her mind, beckoning. She walked fast, the narrow and tight space not hindering her. Last time, the passage had been harder to walk, but now she was more accustomed to the tunnels, the way the mountain protruded rocks like trees pushed roots.

The pool was just like she remembered, just like she had seen in her dreams. The dark water rippled idly, swaying gently. The light of her torch made figures on the walls; they came together, embraced, parted. When she stood at the edge of the pool, the fire's reflection was blindingly bright, full of the colors of sunset. The water was on fire, the flames slowly spreading.

Curious, she peered into the pool, trying to see her own image. But she was just a dark outline drawn against the burning water.

All of a sudden Snow knew she was not alone in the cave. Steeling herself, she turned around. The old woman was standing against the wall, her small beady eyes fixed on Snow.

"You are staying," Moira's toothless grin was grotesque among the shadows.

Snow, seeing no benefit in lies or evasion, said, "Yes, I am."

"You want to defeat her," the old woman continued to grin madly, "to crush her, to take her down, to kill her."

"I do," Snow admitted. She wanted it badly, for all those reasons she had confessed to Eric, but also because deep inside her, there was something she couldn't tell, couldn't recognize – a yearning for vengeance, a violent will to see her enemy hurt like she had been hurt. Moira's eyes seemed to go right inside her, finding that place that Snow had buried, had denied existed.

"Wanting and doing are not the same," Moira cackled.

"I am going to do it," Snow said firmly, annoyed.

Moira's laugh changed into a hacking cough, grating Snow's nerves. It echoed in the cave, endlessly, until at last it faded away. "And what is different now than before – that you think you can do it?"

"Everything has changed," Snow revealed. The kiss, hidden and safe, was warm against her heart.

"Everything?" Moira's dark eyes were fathomless, like the pool beside them. "Or just you?"

Speechless, Snow couldn't turn her eyes away from the old woman, being held prisoner by her sharp gaze. She turned the question over and over in her mind, and didn't know the answer. Her dumbfounded expression amused Moira greatly. The woman snorted, "Don't worry your little head with it love, it's all the same in the end."

Snow swallowed her sharp rebuke, chose silence instead. But it seemed Moira had not finished speaking in riddles. "Everything is another man's nothing, and something is sometimes everything and other times nothing… and a kiss is sometimes just a kiss."

Snow shook like she had been slapped. The shadow figures fell and tumbled, as she almost dropped the fire in to the dark water. Awkward and clumsy, she fought to keep a firm hold of the torch. It was her lifeline; suddenly terrified of the darkness, she felt panic approaching at the thought of not seeing, of being in the dark, completely helpless, alone.

Or not alone; Moira was still watching her, curious and amused. It didn't comfort Snow one bit.

"I must go now," Snow said, anxious to be among others, among their chattering and questions, among torches that burned more brightly, more steadily. She took a step towards the entrance of the cave, towards Moira, who stood like rooted to her spot, smiling wildly.

"No dear," the old woman said, "you just have to wake up."

Startled, Snow dropped her torch. Heart hammering, she watched as it hit the rocky floor, rolled around and then came to a halt. The flame flickered, struggled, and went out. The cave and the pool and Moira, they all blurred into darkness, and Snow fought not to scream. She couldn't see. The mountain would close her in a deep stony grave, never to be found, never to be loved –

Snow opened her eyes, blinked. Slowly, the black faded away, the light mixing in with the dark. The torch was still burning on the wall, where Eric had left it. She was sitting on the barrel, her neck stiff and her head heavy. Shuddering with cold, Snow rose stiffly, avoiding looking at the tunnel leading to the pool, half-expecting Moira to emerge from it at any moment.

She had fallen asleep. It had been just a dream, created by her tired mind. But it hadn't felt like a dream; if Snow was being honest, none of the dreams she had dreamed under the mountain had felt like regular dreams. With everything else, also her dreams had changed, had become riddles that hinted at the right answer, the hidden past and the unclear future.

She knew they were significant. She knew they were terrifying. And it was time for her to solve what they were trying to tell her.