Yes, I'm still writing. I'm so sorry for the delay in this chapter. Thanksgiving, Christmas, work, a cold, etc. Anyway, here's Father's story! I'm happy to be done with these backstory chapters since they're not my favorite things to write. This one was a bit more difficult since it's emotional, and I feel I ran on a bit at times. Oh well, maybe one day I'll rewrite it. Thank you, Leanne Was Here for your review! It made my day, since that's my goal. Once I finish this, I plan to go over it with a finetooth comb and submit it to some literary agents. And yes, the next book will be called The Grey Island and will be about Sleeping Beauty aka Rosamund. Rosamund is the original name that the Grimm brothers called the sleeping beauty; it wasn't Aurora like the Sleeping Beauty ballet as well as Walt Disney's Sleeping Beauty call her. Anyway, I'm ahead of myself. You should see the little notes here and there for this series that I have. Inspiration tends to strike me while brushing my teeth for some reason. Again, please report spelling/grammar errors! I really appreciate it. Reviews in general are appreciated.

A Father's Sorrow

"My child, I have committed the worst crime of them all; I have taken a life." Father hung his head in shame after saying the words. Snow White felt a ball of ice develop in her belly at his confession. It did not seem possible that this wonderful man who was helping the others could have committed murder.

"I must tell you the whole story, my dear," he said. "I was born in the mountains several hundred miles south from this place on a cold winter's night, the second of five children. My parents kept goats, and we lived a very simple life, isolated from others on our mountain. My earliest memories are of running down the mountainside in spring when the ground was covered in yellow and pink flowers and the wind was at my back, swimming in the gentle waters of the creek, and watching the great hawks fly in slow circles high above the fields in search of rabbits.

"I was perhaps eight or nine when we had to leave our mountain home. A disease had wiped out our goat herd, and my father packed up the family to try to find work in a town. It was a long journey, one I had to walk most of the way with my older sister because the mule cart could only carry so much. Mother was heavy with child, so she and my two younger sisters rode in the cart with our meager possessions while I walked behind the cart with my older brother. Father led the way, guiding the mule on his journey.

"When we crossed into a valley, I saw a man with straggly whiskers on his chin and a wide brown hat upon his head leading a cow along the same road we traveled. He was the first person I had ever seen outside of my own family. I can still hear my mother's hushed voice scolding me for staring too long. After days of traveling and stopping in many towns as my father asked for work, I got used to seeing others and had worn my shoes out. By the time he found work, I was barefoot from the walk. It was a large town about twenty miles from the castle.

"At first, I was overwhelmed by the atmosphere of the town. The sights, the sounds, the smells, everything was new to me. It took a few weeks for me to get my bearings and learn that town life is rather different from mountain life. Sure, we kept a few animals at our home in the town, but it was never quite the same as the goat herd. I still had chores to do, and my mother continued to teach me my lessons. She taught all five of us; not a one of her children ever had a tutor or set foot in a school. We could all read and write at a young age. We could identify plants just by seeing a leaf. When we went to pay for some goods or a service, my mother let us children do the figuring and tell her what she owed so that we would learn the ways of numbers. My father taught us about farming as well as how to take care of things. When not working with the blacksmith shoeing horses as he was hired to do, my father would go around doing repairs for anyone willing to pay for his service.

"As a young man, I fell in love with what most would describe as a simple woman. But she filled my heart with joy at the sight of her. We didn't have much when we wed; all we had was each other and that seemed enough. I never left the town; instead, we set up house and home there near my father's house. I was a laborer by trade, a man who worked with his hands and did most any job that came my way, just as my father had done before me.

"My wife blessed me with a beautiful daughter who I doted on every chance I got. I would have captured the moon for her if I could have." Snow White heard his voice crack as he spoke. Lost in his memory, Father looked toward the window as if seeking the moon in the night sky.

"My little Marion was an even-tempered baby, always quiet and sweet. She always seemed to be studying the world around her. If you held that sweet baby in your arms, she would look around the room, taking in every sight and sound. I'd call her name, and she'd turn her head toward me and smile as I smiled to her.

"Her sweet nature continued in childhood. I remember at the age of four, she got sick with an awful cold. My mother-in-law came to take care of her since my wife, Kathryn was carrying our second child, a child she would lose a few months later. I had to work, so it was wonderful that Kathryn's mother could come tend to my sick child. When Marion would sneeze, she'd sneeze a huge sneeze that made her whole body shake from the force of it. Whenever she sneezed, my mother-in-law would always say, 'Bless your little heart.' This doesn't seem very important, but after getting better, whenever Marion heard someone sneeze, she would say, 'Bless your little heart.' She never grew out of that habit, but it is one of many, many things that made Marion special."

"What did she look like?" Snow White asked.

Father gave a bittersweet smile, "She was an angel. She was my angel. Her hair was long and curly like yours, my child, except hers was a light brown. She had blue eyes that were just like mine but shone with clarity, wisdom, and kindness from her earliest days. Marion had her mother's straight nose and my chin and ears. While the features on Kathryn and my faces seemed plain, on hers, they seemed beautiful. She was a small little thing, always shorter than the other children, but she held her own and could run like the wind.

"My Marion's greatest feature was her smile. It wasn't one of those smiles that lights up the room. No, it was more small and innocent…beautiful. Everything about my daughter was beautiful.

"Maybe…maybe it was because she was my only child. Maybe that is why I doted on her so. After Kathryn lost the child she carried after Marion, she was never with child again. Mayhap having just one child made me cherish every moment with her. You see Snow White, before I became a father, I just went through the motions of life. Sure, I lived and loved. I appreciated things. But it wasn't until I held that small baby in my arms and felt those tiny fingers curl around my finger that I truly lived. Marion showed me my purpose in life. My purpose was to be her father."

Snow White wondered if she had a father somewhere out there who had cared so deeply for her. She wondered if she had ever given him a smile or held his hand. Did he miss her? Did he wonder what had happened to her? Was he still looking for her? Was he even still alive? She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye with her finger.

Looking around, she saw the dwarfs were melancholic as they sat with eyes focused on their empty mugs or the floor instead of on Father. Father kept his eyes on the fire; Snow White could see the orange and yellow flames' reflection dance across the film of tears forming in Father's eyes, only serving to enhance the sadness on his face.

She asked the unspoken question, "How did she die?"

Father sighed and passed a hand over his face. In a quiet voice, he said, "She was murdered." Before he could speak another word, he buried his head in his hands and leaned forward, sobbing in the pain of his memories. Crat reached over and squeezed Father's shoulder.

"She-she fell in love with the son of a merchant. Wesley was a good man, a man from hard-working stock. My wife and I never had any problems with our daughter's choice in husband. He was a merchant like his father. I remember when Marion had invited Wesley to sup with us that first time." Father chuckled, "She was a nervous little chicken, running to and fro, making sure everything was perfect for him. And it was perfect; of course, it was perfect. I tried to tell her so, but she insisted on making everything just right. You see, I knew something that she didn't. I knew from experience that a man in love sees no flaws.

"It wasn't long after they started courting that Wesley asked me for my daughter's hand in marriage." Father sighed, "It's a difficult thing for a father, giving up his daughter. I guess for some men, it's easier, especially those with many mouths to feed. It's one less to care for, after all. I never viewed it that way. I would have gladly cared for my Marion all her life. In my eyes, she was still a little girl, jumping into my arms for a hug when I came home after a long day of work. Yes, there was that feeling of Marion was my little girl to care for, but my wife, my very wise wife reminded me that I-" Father's voice became affected and faltered over his words, "that I wouldn't be around for her forever. Her candle would burn longer than mine."

He stopped and wiped a tear from his eye before continuing, "So, I relented and gave my consent to the marriage. Having prepared for years for this date, Kathryn had already sewn a simple dowry for Marion, and I had a stretch of land to give the young couple so that they could have their own small farm. I knew the perfect pair of swine for them as well.

"I helped Wesley build their home on that plot of land. I made sure that the front faced east, just like our own home since Marion always said she loved opening the front door in the morning and being greeted by the sun. Kathryn took some cuttings of her cherished roses and peonies to plant in front of Wesley and Marion's home.

"Marion wore a yellow dress the day of the wedding with white flowers woven into her pretty hair. She was a vision, and I couldn't have been prouder of her. It was a beautiful day, her wedding day. The sky was a vivid blue with the bright yellow sun shining overhead and not a cloud to be seen in the sky. Our family and friends rejoiced in my daughter's wedding as the celebration continued into the night. Oh what a time we had!" Father laughed at the memories of the happy times.

"My little girl was so excited to be a wife. Wesley used to tell people about how she kept the house spotless and was the most superb cook in the world. Marion also couldn't wait to have children, and my wife was eagerly pressing that topic. Her desire for grandchildren became evident the morning after Marion's wedding when at breakfast, she asked when I thought we'd get that first grandchild. While the idea of grandchildren seemed exciting, all I could think of was how young my Marion was. True, she was a year older than her own mother was when I married Kathryn. I just couldn't picture her as a mother quite yet.

"She never got to be a mother though. My daughter was married for a little over two years when she was strangled to death…by her husband."

Snow White dropped her mending in a heap at her feet. She had been so engrossed in Father's story that she had stopped working several minutes ago. The feeling of the cloth slipping off her lap made her scramble to pick up the clothes. Lively silently knelt at her feet and quickly and neatly collected the dropped clothing before depositing it on her lap. He slipped to his seat just as quietly, and Father took no notice to the slight commotion.

"Yes, Wesley killed my daughter. And I…and I killed Wesley."

A lump formed in Snow White's throat upon hearing that Father killed his own son-in-law, the very son-in-law who took his daughter's life.

"Your silence is deafening," Father said quietly. "I don't blame you. It's hard to understand how I could kill a man. I'll admit that it stuns me as well. It's many a morning that I wake up, play that horrible day in my head, and think it must have been a dream. I know it wasn't though."

Father rubbed the back of his neck with one shaky hand. "I don't know exactly what started the argument between Marion and Wesley. I just know it was nearly nightfall when Kathryn and I heard the yelling. Leaving our supper on the table, we went outside and saw Marion on the road toward town with Wesley's hands wrapped around her throat.

"'Stay,' I told Kathryn as I ran down the sloping hill toward them to help Marion. I called out for Wesley to stop, but he didn't until my daughter fell to the dirt road in a lifeless heap. I heard Kathryn scream in horror as she dropped.

"I pushed Wesley aside and scooped my daughter's head into my lap. Her eyes were open and staring off into the distance, not really focused on anything. I remember how dull and lifeless they were. If you have never seen a dead person, my dear, you wouldn't understand. There's a life and a light to the eyes of the living. Even those stricken with blindness have life in their eyes.

"I pulled her more into my lap, cradling her against me. Kathryn arrived within seconds and was pulling her cold body to her warm one, sobbing and asking over and over again why. Why had this happened?

"Blinded by tears and shaking with rage, I stood and saw the drunken fool sitting a few yards away, not an emotion on his face. I grabbed him by his collar, jerking him to his feet. I will spare you the exact words I used, as they were words that should never be spoken in front of ladies. And do you know what he did as I released my rant?" Father's eyes focused on Snow White, and he frowned as he waited somewhat impatiently for her answer.

"No," Snow White said.

"He laughed at me. Laughed right in my face, and I smelled the reek of alcohol on his foul breath. There was this…this powerful fury that boiled in my blood like a rogue wild horse running loose through a village, wreaking havoc in his wake. That fury took over my very soul as I looked upon the source, that creature, that drunken who strangled the last breath out of my innocent daughter. The coarse fabric of his shirt bit scratched against my skin as I tightened my grip. It was then that I noticed my right hand held something besides the shirt. It was the knife I had been eating supper with.

"At that moment, it was all over. My daughter's killer was in my grasp, and I had a weapon. I held onto him tightly with my left hand and took the knife, holding it high in the air so that the last rays of the setting sun glinted over the blade. He was still laughing as I plunged the knife downward toward his chest. It was tough to get in, his body resisting the blade as I pushed. But I got it in. His laughter quickly changed to gasping as I started stabbing him over and over again with my dull blade.

"His weight became more of a burden, so I let go of his shirt and pushed his body to the ground on his back. I straddled his stomach and kept stabbing and stabbing over and over again, cursing him for killing Marion. I remember one stab let loose a spurt of blood that splattered on my face. I can still remember the warmth of it as it trickled down my cheek and over my lip. I remember the iron taste on my tongue as a drop or two slipped into my mouth during my tirade. I spat the blood out of my mouth at Wesley. I didn't stop until I saw the light go out of his eyes and felt him go cold like my daughter." Father shuddered at the memory.

"I stood and felt the wet stickiness of his blood on my trousers, how the fabric clung to me like a second skin. I turned and saw Kathryn, her face pale as she still held Marion. I opened my mouth to speak, but I couldn't get a word out. Instead, I sobbed as I sank down next to her. I sobbed for Marion. I sobbed for Wesley. I sobbed for Kathryn and myself.

"I don't know how much time passed before the law of the town came for me. It could have been a few minutes; it could have been a few hours; I'm not sure. Time didn't seem to matter anymore.

"They knew why I had killed Wesley. Everyone in town knew why. I was a father who hadn't been able to protect his child, and when I had a chance to take revenge, I took it. Because Wesley had taken Marion's life, King William spared my own life in favor of spending the rest of my days in the dungeon. This was a long time ago, my dear. King Henry was seventeen at the time, just a prince then. I was five and forty when I was thrown in the dungeon. I reached my eightieth birthday last month. That's…"

"Five and thirty years, Father," Stretch spoke up.

"Precisely," Father said. "Five and thirty years of incarceration. Luckily, I'm no longer in the dungeon."

"Do you regret killing Wesley?" Snow White asked.

Father was still as he thought about how to answer her question. "I wish Wesley was alive. I wish I knew that my wife was cared for. Do I regret it though?" He was quiet again. "I regret his death at my hands. That, I regret. However, I do not dwell in this feeling of regret. I do not think about how life would be if I hadn't killed him. If I hadn't killed Wesley, I would not have been in the king's dungeon. I would not have been able to touch the lives of those I have touched. These men," Father gestured his hands to the rest of the dwarfs, "These men needed me. I became their father. If I hadn't been able to help them, who knows where they would be? I have helped more than these six. And do not think that this is a one-sided relationship. My fellow dwarfs have helped to heal my heart, to help me see that there is a tomorrow and a purpose to everything."

Snow White understood. Father was a very wise man, and even though he was a murderer, these other men respected and looked up to him.

"Let us go to bed for it will soon be dawn, and we must go to work soon. Good night to you all," Father said as he stood from his chair. The rest soon followed his lead and the house grew quiet as everyone fell asleep.

A/N: On chapter title: I originally called this chapter "Of Murder" to fit with the other dwarf backstory chapters, but then I changed my mind since while the others are more identified by what they've done (or not, in Stretch's case), I wanted Father to be identified by what he's been through. Hopefully that makes sense. Lily, Aaron, Floren, etc are coming back! Starting with chapter twelve! There shouldn't be such a huge gap between updates from here on out.