Chapter Twenty-Eight: An Apple and a Story
The three girls had picked up quite the entourage during their after-breakfast explorations.
Amaryllis, the Nymph that had been kind enough to help Aria on her first afternoon at the castle, had been changing flower arrangements in the upstairs guest rooms when the girls had surprised her. She had been more than happy to keep Aria company when Susan had found a secret tiny door out onto the castle's parapets, the two sisters happily exploring the heights that Aria had no intention of going anywhere near.
When Aria had mentioned to her that their successful search for passages had begun in the library the previous day, Amaryllis was more than happy to show all three girls the secret staircase that she had found behind a large gilded mirror in one of the guest bedrooms. When the group had exited the dark and winding staircase through a large bookshelf in the corner of the library nearest the door, they had interrupted an argument between a startled Mr. and Mrs. Beaver.
This time, it was Lucy's enthusiasm that inspired more passage clues, as Mrs. Beaver was all-too chuffed to reveal that there was a secret servant-used staircase that had a hidden door on every floor of the castle. They only followed her as far down as the main floor, however, exiting the stairwell in the passage below the Banquet Hall the girls had discovered the day before.
It was here that they had startled the poor, long-suffering Brettaine so much that she had barely been able to utter more than a few halting syllables in greeting. Using her presence as an excuse, however, Susan firmly decided that eight sets of stairs over the span of one morning was more than enough exercise for Aria's ankle. And, although Aria was able to talk her out of stopping their exploration altogether, dutifully sticking out her ankle and rolling it around without the slightest wince, it was still decided that they should try to avoid any more staircases.
They'd looked in on Mr. Tumnus in the music room, who had smiled up from a pile of crumpled pages of discarded notes with relief and readily decided to join them on their quest. He'd happily taken Lucy's hand and led them back through the halls towards the Courtyard, the group stopping in unoccupied rooms every so often to check walls, paintings, lighting fixtures, and anything else that looked interesting.
No one had any success, however, and when they had all stepped out into the sun-drenched courtyard, it was unanimously decided that the castle interior had been explored enough that day, and that they were all overdue for some fresh air. Amaryllis sweetly offered them a tour of her favorite current project - a winding path leading to the Training Grounds that was absolutely teaming with flowers growing in artful rows that gave the effect of a waterfall of multi-colored petals.
As none of them had seen the Training Grounds yet, they continued down the path to the large, observation-wall enclosed space, where Susan had smilingly inspected the archery lanes, Lucy had laughed at the silly faces painted onto the burlap dummies, and Aria had stubbed her toe on a rude trapdoor hidden by a very large pile of hay. The trapdoor, once Mr. Tumnus and Susan had hefted it open, followed the pattern of the other exterior passage, leading to the safety and promise of escape that was the stables.
It was here that Aria was hailed so enthusiastically by Lorin that the Kelpie's liquid black eyes looked as if they would roll back inside his head with the pleasure of seeing her. Noticing that the other horses whom had made the stable their home were currently staying as far away from her friend as they possibly could, Aria had immediately invited him to continue exploring the grounds with them.
Eventually, the group had made it all the way down to the orchard that Lucy and Mr. Tumnus had discovered yesterday. The apple trees were lovely in the early afternoon light. Pinpricks of sunbeams streamed down through glowing apples and bright blossoms - impossibly flowering at the same time that their fruit was ripening on the stems. Sitting beneath their branches in the warm spring air, the large group was happily munching their fill of huge, juicy apples pulled straight from the trees above.
Brettaine, holding up extremely well considering the number of people who currently surrounded her, had already checked on Aria's wrist and ankle, nodding that she found them both to be holding up just fine, and was currently actually holding a quiet conversation with Amaryllis. Susan and Mr. Tumnus were conversing about music, the girl sounding incredibly interested in taking him up on his current offer of lessons on the harp that she had so admired the day before.
The Beavers were adorably griping at each other about getting apple juice on their fur. Lucy had commandeered Lorin's help in shaking apples loose from their branches, scooping them up and delivering them to anyone in the party whose pile was getting low, and Aria had just managed to convince the both of them that they had provided plenty of food, when another assembly appeared through the trees.
"We were wondering where everyone had disappeared to for lunch." Came the orotund voice of Madame Luvris, leading her followers around tree trunks with heavy, purposeful steps, and hefting a huge wicker basket in her thick arms. "But when the Apple Trees sent word that you had joined them for your meal, we decided that you might be needing more than just fruit in your stomachs."
The Kitchen Mistress was accompanied by each of the girl's handmaidens. Pristine balancing a tray piled high with smooth wooden cups, and both Evere and Winda bearing large beverage jugs. They were all, of course, enthusiastically invited to join the impromptu luncheon, and the apple-fetching duo soon saw to it that they each had a healthy pile of apples next to them.
The cups were passed out, and they all had their choices of crisp apple cider, sweet elderflower lemonade, or cool fresh water. From the dwarf's enormous basket, there came a huge array of breads and cheeses, and enough small plates for each of them to use 'like civilized creatures''.
Setting her newly acquired cup next to her on the grass, Aria picked up another apple as Lucy finally settled down next to her. She was about to take a bite when the little girl stopped her with a warning. "Wait, Aria!" She exclaimed. "That one has a horrible bruise. It might make you sick!"
Aria paused, turning the apple in her hand, and discovering that there was, indeed, a large, unappetizing brown bruise on one side of the red fruit. The other side, however, which Aria had been about to eat, still looked shiny and perfect. She smiled at Lucy's concerned expression. "It's only a bruise, Lucy." She comforted. "It just means that the skin of the apple has come away from the inside, and that air has gotten into it. It's not exactly appetizing anymore, but it's not poisonous." She then gestured to the unblemished portion of the apple. "And this side should still be just fine."
Madame Luvris harrumphed from the opposite side of the glade. "Bruised apples make the best cider, too, Highness." She informed them. "Makes it extra sweet. Besides, who ever heard of being poisoned by a little old apple?"
Pressing her thumb against the pulpy bruise, Aria smiled. "You'd be surprised." She said. Next to her, Lucy's face split into a grin. To their right, Susan settled herself more comfortably against her tree trunk. Around them, even the air stilled in anticipation.
"Once upon a time," Aria began, smoothing her skirts around her and gently stroking the apple in her hands. "In a faraway kingdom, there lived a great king and his queen. The two so longed for a child, but for many years, there was no sign of a little prince or princess on the way. One day, in the coldness of a white winter morning, the gentle queen sat at her window, embroidering the collar of her beloved husband's newest shirt.
"She was singing to herself, and suddenly, a raven swooped down from the sky and onto the window sill by the queen's side, drawn to her by the beauty of her melancholy song. The queen was so startled by this that her usually steady hands pricked her finger with her embroidering needle, and it began bleeding, a few droplets falling into the pure white snow beneath her window.
"'Oh!' She cried, pressing her finger to her lips to stop the bleeding.
"'My Queen.' The raven said, bowing to the lady and surprising her still further. 'Your sad song has awoken me from my winter slumber.'
"The queen pulled her finger from her mouth. It had stopped bleeding, but still throbbed painfully. 'Oh.' The queen began to apologize politely. 'I'm so sorry to have woken you. I shall endeavor to be quieter if that is your wish, my Lord Raven.'
"But the bird shook its great feathered head. 'There is no need for all of that.' He said, wriggling his feathers contentedly. 'I only wished to know why so fortunate and beautiful a woman such as yourself has cause to sound so mournful?'
"The queen sighed, caressing the collar of her husband's shirt. 'It's only that my husband and I so long for a child.' She said. 'And even though we keep trying, I have a great fear that we may never be blessed with one.'
"The great raven cocked it's head curiously and studied the queen. After a long moment, it gave a slight nod. 'My Queen,' It began again. 'If you were to have a child, what would you prefer? A gallant little prince, or a charming little princess?'
"The queen shook her head slightly, and began to tell the raven that she would not mind either, so long as she could hold her own child, but the raven ruffled it's wings and continued. 'If you knew that you could have one child – and one child only – what would you choose in your heart of hearts, my Lady?' And the queen stopped, thinking.
"She gazed out of the window, her eyes falling on the bright droplets of blood on the snow, and she could not help thinking how beautifully the dark red glistened against such a pure backdrop as the snow – and she knew. 'A daughter.' She said. 'If I could only ever have one child, I would wish for a daughter with skin as white as the snow, lips as red as blood, and hair as black as – well, as black as your feathers, Lord Raven.' For she deeply admired the raven's plumage – so black that it glistened with a myriad of other colors as it sought the light.
"And, as she looked back at the great bird, she saw a twinkle in its dark eyes, and could swear that it was smiling at her. It nodded it's great head again. 'Very well.' It decided. 'You may take one of my feathers.'
"The queen's brow furrowed, and she shook her head slightly. 'I'm sorry.' She said. 'I'm afraid I don't understand.'
"'Take one of my feathers.' The raven repeated. 'Boil a mug full of fresh snow and steep the feather in it, then add three drops of your blood. Drink this mixture before you and your good husband retire to bed tonight, and in nine months' time, you will have the princess you wished for.' And, without waiting for her answer, the raven bowed to her once more and winged away from the window sill, leaving only a glistening black feather where he had been.
"The queen, of course, was stunned, and found herself unable to move for quite a few moments as she stared at the feather. He surely couldn't expect her to drink such a concoction – blood, snow, and a feather? It was grotesque, and surely it couldn't have anything to do with helping her to have a child. But, on the other hand, was one wise to dismiss the advice of a talking raven so simply – creatures that were so rare and secretive that most folk barely believed in them.
"After a while, the queen carefully plucked the feather from the window sill and stowed it safely in her pocket, going back to her embroidery and pondering the question further.
"When the sun had finally set, and her embroidery was done, the sky had opened once more to a freshly falling snow and the queen had decided to do as the raven had ordered. And so, after dinner, she slipped out to the courtyard, scooped up a bowlful of the fresh snow, and took it inside. As it was boiling, she pricked her finger with her embroidery needle once again and allowed three drops of her blood to drip into the pot, and then she carefully withdrew the feather from her pocket and dropped it in.
"As it steeped, the feather dissolved itself completely, as did her blood, so that when she poured the mixture into a mug, it was a clear as water. As soon as the potion had cooled enough, the queen drank it quickly, relieved beyond words that it tasted only of hot water, and went up to bed.
"Nine months later, just as the great raven had promised, she held her beautiful daughter in her arms for the first time. Her skin was as white and fine as the purest of snow drifts, her lips were as red as cherry wine, and her hair was as black and shiny as the raven's magnificent plumage. With her last breath, the smiling queen declared her lovely daughter's name to be Snow White, and then she closed her eyes for the last time."
"The queen died?" Amaryllis asked, her purple eyes wide with horror.
Aria nodded sympathetically. "She did." She answered. "That's the way of fairy tales, unfortunately. I'm sure that if any of these princesses or heroes had received normal childhoods, there wouldn't be any stories about them."
Those gathered around her waited expectantly for her to continue the tale, Susan with a gentle smile, Mr. Tumnus, and several others rapt with attention, and Lucy squirming to settle her head firmly in Aria's lap. And, as the Kitchen Mistress wore an expression that looked like she was still very much waiting for anything having to do with an apple, Aria went on.
"Now, Snow White, who was the apple of her father's eye, grew into a lovely child, as sweet and kind as she was precocious and high-spirited. Her father wanted to teach her everything he could - to respect the people of the kingdom, how she should always do her best to love and protect them, and to be an example to their better natures. And though she learned everything he had to tell her, and took each word deep into her heart, he knew that he alone could not teach her everything that a young woman would need to know. Little girls have a great need for a mother.
"And so, with this knowledge to give him strength, he decided that he would need to marry again. He bade his advisors search the kingdoms far and wide for a woman worthy not just of being crowned a Queen, but also of taking on the even more important job of becoming a mother to his beloved Snow White. But though his advisors were all great and wise men when it came to helping the king care for his kingdom, they forgot that goodness and beauty are far more than skin deep.
"They chose for their king a woman from a faraway land whose beauty was absolutely beyond compare. With hair the color of molten flame, so shiny and smooth that it fell down her back like silk. With eyes so green and bright that they seemed to be crafted from the deepest emeralds. With skin so fine and smooth that a person could forget that they had ever learned the word blemish. And with a mouth so generous and warm a red that the merest, tiniest hint of a smile from her lips could cause a grown man to forget his name entirely.
"Her countenance was charm itself when she was presented to the king, full of warmth and grace when he introduced her to his small daughter, and he, of course, agreed to marry her.
"When his new bride moved into the castle, she brought with her carriages full of exotic treasures from mysterious lands, finery in every color of the rainbow, household as loyal to her as the sun was to the dawn skies, and a great mirror - so grand and ornate that it demanded its own room within the new Queen's suite. This mirror was incredibly special, as it had been crafted by a great magician, and had both the power and the duty to always reveal the truth to whoever made use of it."
Madame Luvris tsked deeply, her ruddy face a storm cloud. "Going to be nothing but trouble, that." She predicted. "Most people are likely to only want such truths when it serves them, and aren't going to want it so much when it doesn't."
Aria smiled at the dwarf before taking a long sip of the sweet lemonade. "The truth is certainly both a gift and a curse." She agreed, and then continued once more.
"Every morning, the Queen would be dressed in front of the lovely mirror, the silks and velvets of her gowns appearing even richer in its reflection. Her hair, shining all the brighter from light of the golden frame, would be coiffed and set with jeweled combs. Her face and hands would be enriched with lavish creams, the skin warm and soft as the most delicate of silk.
"And when she had deemed herself ready, and her servants had left her side, she would stand in front of her reflection and ask aloud, 'Mirror, mirror, on the wall - who is the fairest one of all?'
"And the mirror would answer, it's voice a whisper that sank deep into her soul. 'You, my Queen, with your beauty so grand, are indeed the fairest in the land.'
"Every evening, the Queen would bathe the day away, soaking in milk and exotic oils. Her hair would be brushed a hundred times to shine like satin, and would never have dared to tangle. Again, she would stand before her mirror, and again, she would ask of it, 'Mirror, mirror, in this room - who is the fairest, do you assume?'
"And again, the truth-speaking mirror would answer, 'Throughout all kingdoms, great and small, you are the fairest one of all.'
"But the Queen, though she was as beautiful and charming as anyone could hope or wish, was not as fair when it came to her little stepdaughter. Snow White, indulged from birth to be curious and precocious, was deemed a vexation more often than not.
"Her constant questioning of the world around her was exhausting, leading to headaches and unattractive pinching around the eyes. Her wish for adventures through the castle halls with her toys were the cause of more than one expensive jar of skin-smoothing cream to smash upon the floor. Her dauntless exploration of the vast gardens resulted on the horror of sunburn.
"After waking one terrible morning to find that the smooth, perfect skin at the tip of her dainty nose was - horror of horrors - peeling from such exposure, the Queen began to resent the little girl. And when her mirror took far longer than usual to answer the question of her beauty, a deep rage began to fester in the beautiful Queen's heart. Rage and fear that Snow White would be the ruin of her loveliness. And so, she decided that morning that she would have nothing more to do with bringing up her stepdaughter.
"Years passed, and the little princess grew into a sweet young woman, though the King despaired that his new wife had failed to teach his daughter the more effeminate lessons of a future Queen. Snow White, as curious and adventurous now as she had ever been, would often show up late to court dinners, dressed in dirtied frocks with tangled hair. And though Snow White was as kind and wise as any future ruler could hope to be, her father feared that the nobles of their surrounding kingdoms might fail to respect Snow White's rule. After all, it was rather hard to take his daughter's most serious thoughts to heart when she spoke them from a face streaked in mud.
"When it came time for her eighteenth birthday, the castle began to prepare for the princess's coming of age ball, and the King knew that something had to be done. In desperation, he begged his lovely Queen to make an effort, at the very least, to teach her stepdaughter the importance of a royal appearance. The Queen, disinclined to have any interaction with Snow White, instead sent the young woman one of her maids and a selection of gowns that she had long-since grown tired of.
"After the maid ensured that there was not a speck of dirt anywhere on her new charge, Snow White's long black ringlets were brushed until they shone, catching the light of the room with a myriad of colors in the depths of their curls. She was then dressed in an exquisite blue gown that set off her eyes, causing them to shine like jewels. When she was finally released from her rooms to go to the ball, she truly looked like a princess.
"When she entered the Great Hall, every voice within became hushed, dimmed with the vision of her beauty. Her father beamed with pride, every courtier flocked to her side, and each advisor vied for her attentions throughout the evening. And the Queen was horrified.
"The Queen, who had spent a fortune on a new gown and hair combs. The Queen, who had ordered her throne to be refinished so that the dark wood would shine behind her. The Queen, who had spent days in the effort to look like a portrait made of jewels set into an elegant frame. She was no longer the center of the Court's attentions. Indeed, throughout the entire evening, she was altogether forgotten.
"And so, she sat, in her elegant throne, in her richest of gowns, and watched her stepdaughter - and seethed.
"Later that night, she stood in front of her great mirror once more. Her bath had been enriched with milk and the most expensive oils in the palace. She had ordered her maids to brush her hair two hundred times. Her most decadent lotions had been rubbed into her skin with the softest of silk rather than her maidservant's worn hands. There was no blemish, no wrinkle, no tangle - only her beauty reflected upon the bright glass before her.
"'Mirror, mirror, on the wall - who is the fairest one of all?'
"Lights swirled within the depths of the mirror, colors flowing and shifting until a familiar face appeared in place of the Queen's reflection. 'Hair so raven, skin so fine, lips as red as cherry wine. Cheeks like roses, eyes so blue, a smile that sparkles like the morning dew.' Came the mirror's sing-song voice, piercing the Queen's heart like an icy dagger.
"Snow White's lovely features hovered before her in the glass, and the mirror at last spoke the words that the Queen had been dreading. 'You, great Queen, are a beauty, it's true. But young Snow White has grown far lovelier than you.'
"And in that moment, jealousy took hold of the Queen's heart. A jealousy so deep and fierce that it consumed her very being. There was nothing that she could do to stop time spinning, and she knew with terrible certainty that Snow White's beauty would only grow in the years to come. While hers - faded.
"'No!' She snapped at the mirror, her lips twisting as she sneered into the young face floating upon its surface. Her voice rose sharply as she continued. 'That's not possible!'
"'Everything all right, Your Majesty?' Came a gentle voice from the doorway to her mirrored room, it's tone scratchy with the wear of age. The Queen turned sharply, her hackles raised at the intrusion, and discovered that one of the castle maids had opened the chamber door, a look of concern on her elderly, wizened face.
"She rushed to the door, ensuring that she kept herself between the maid's inquisitive gaze, and the ensorcelled mirror behind her. Intent on getting rid of the intruder, she viciously wrenched the door from the maid's hands. The older woman's deep blue eyes went wide, and she began to murmur an apology, clearly terrified of the expression twisting the lovely Queen's features.
"Those eyes stopped the Queen in her tracks. They were bright, with an almost youthful twinkle in them, but the lines around them spoke of age and toil. The dullness of her skin told a tale of hard labor having taken its toll. The maid wasn't old, exactly, but she certainly looked it.
"Letting go of the door, the Queen grabbed the maid's hands instead, bringing them closer to her face to examine them. They were course and ugly, with callouses and bumps that scratched against her own silky skin. Dropping the woman's fingers, she grabbed at her chin, twisting the terrified woman's face this way and that, examining what time had toil had made of her.
"Once she was satisfied with her investigation, she released the woman, who stepped back, anxiously wringing her course hands together. 'Get out.' The Queen sneered, and the maid was all too happy to comply. An idea forming in her mind, the Queen threw a last glance over her shoulder at the mirror, still floating her stepdaughter's face within its hidden depths, and stalked from the room.
"Her first task was to find the handmaiden that had betrayed her by allowing Snow White to appear in such loveliness. Once she had ensured the girl's terrified loyalties, ripping a promise from her that such a travesty was never to be allowed again, she moved on to the more difficult portion of her plan.
"It took all of her not-inconsiderable charms to convince her husband that, now that the Princess was of age, she had a duty not just to the lofty courtiers that made castles and palaces their homes, but also to the lowliest of peasants in the poorest of the towns within the borders of the country. Did he not agree that, in order to truly experience all that a ruler should wish to fix for her people, Snow White should be sent on a pilgrimage to just such a village? And would it not be best if she went alone, in order to reap the most experience for her future rule?
"Wine and the day's exhaustion helped her argument considerably, and Snow White was ushered from the castle on her journey before the first light of dawn broke over the castle towers. The lambasted handmaid was her only escort, and had been given the strictest of orders: Princess Snow White was to help the lowly villagers day and night in all their toils. The rougher and more menial the task, the better.
"And the handmaid was true to her mistress, appealing to the lovely Princess Snow's sense of duty and honor to take on harder and harder workloads for the people of the village. For months, they stayed in a lowly hovel, Snow White learning the hardships of cooking, cleaning, gardening, providing for livestock, all aspects of a regular villager's day-to-day livelihood.
"Before dawn, she was awake, hauling heavy bucketful's of water from the village well to make their breakfast and scrub their floors. The necessity of the energy that breakfast provided, she quickly learned, was eaten without relish, burned or not. Cleaning of their hovel meant painful, reddened knees and water-soaked fingers, but without a daily effort, dirt and dust were likely to cake onto any available surfaces, making such work all the more difficult the next day.
"Through her exploration of the castle gardens, she had initially thought that gardening might well be her favorite, and easiest of pastimes, but was soon cured of such romantic thoughts. Vegetables and herbs were fickle flora, some fighting each other for dominance within the soil, often subject to irritant pests, and prone to near-instant rot at the slightest drop of her guard.
"She found the livestock was incredibly needy. Sheep needed shearing, cows must be milked, the chickens had to be kept almost incandescently happy and fat, or they refused to lay even the tiniest of eggs. On top of their incessant needs, they also had to be protected. One early mishap had the poor princess wincing if the word 'fox' was ever mentioned in her presence.
"When her homely chores were ever finished, she continued to help around the village. Giving the blacksmith's apprentice a well-deserved break and working the heavy bellows for an afternoon; working the pedals of the large and heavy spinning wheels for the ancient weavers; tearing and soaking fibers to make new paper; standing over huge vats of melted wax to dip candles over and over; kneading incredibly large amounts of dough for the baker until her arms felt as if they would detach themselves from her body in protest.
"As the months passed, the work and toil certainly had their effect, just as the beauteous Queen had intended. Snow White's soft and privileged hands grew protective callouses, there were bags of exhaustion under her lovely eyes more days than not, and her abundant raven curls were so gnarled and tangled that she had taken to hiding them under a scarf to keep the mess out of her way. In her new environment, she was far from the enchanting Princess who had stirred the court mere months ago.
"But, quite unlike her stepmother, Snow White had absolutely no care for such things. She had the joy of learning, and the knowledge of duty deep in her heart, and with these, she blossomed. The villagers adored her for her kindness, found themselves amazed at her diligence, and marveled that their Princess would care to have such respect for their daily lives. But even though she was befriended and accepted by all those around her, Snow White often missed her home, and her father, and wondered when her pilgrimage would end.
"One morning, after nearly half a year within the village, Snow White had just filled her first water bucket from the great well at the town's center, and found herself breathing out a long sigh as the bucket cleared the lip of the stone.
"'Why so forlorn, fair maiden?' Came a sudden voice from behind her, startling her so badly that the rope slipped from her grasp. She heard the echoes of her bucket splashing back down into the water below, and the rope might have slipped from the pulley entirely were it not suddenly caught in the firm grasp of the stranger who'd surprised her. She looked up, wondering how he'd moved so quickly, and found herself staring into the extremely handsome face of a well-dressed nobleman.
"He smiled down at her, his expression apologetic. 'I apologize, I didn't mean to startle you.' He said, moving to reel the lost bucket back up for her. 'I was only curious if something was troubling you?' Then he paused in his efforts, lips breaking into a chastened smile. 'Apart from my intrusion, that is.'
"His smile was charming, and Snow White found herself smiling back at him. 'Nothing troubling, thank you.' She assured him. 'Just a moment of homesickness, nothing more.'
"'Homesick?' He asked. 'So, you aren't from this village?' Snow shook her head, but offered no further explanation, having been taught to be wary of strangers. The man leaned against the well, still holding onto the rope, but seeming to have forgotten what he was doing. 'I'm not from here either.' He said. 'Wherever here may be.' When Snow then told him the name of the little village, it surprised him, and he further explained that he was from her neighboring country, whose border was several miles away.
'I was on a hunting trip with a company of men, and we were separated. I happened upon this village after losing my way in the woods, and hoped to get my bearings before attempting to find them again.'
"Now it was Snow's turn to furrow her brow. 'I didn't think there was much game to hunt near here.' She questioned.
"The man nodded. 'I'm sure you're right on that.' He agreed. 'For days, we were tracking the largest stag I've ever seen. I'm sure he led us everywhere he pleased, and I'm not surprised that he led us right over the country border. This morning, he surprised us through the brush.' He shook his head. 'Startled my horse into throwing me down a rather steep ravine. I attempted to find a route back up, but found myself on the outskirts here instead.'
"'And when you find your men,' Snow asked, her large blue eyes curious and captivating. 'You'll continue your hunt?'
"The man smiled again, and shook his head. 'No.' He said. 'The great fellow has most definitely outsmarted me. I believe that I now must respect him too much to continue searching for him. He's earned the right to live in peace from me.'
"Snow White's answering smile was incredibly lovely, and absolutely captivating. Trained exclusively on the enchanted stranger, it caused him to lose focus so much, that the bucket rope slipped from his hands, and was lost down the well with a distant splash.
"And it was this shining and dazzling smile that hovered in the enraged Queen's mystical mirror.
"It should not have been possible. The girl's hair was matted and hidden beneath an ugly, colorless, threadbare cloth, her cheeks had hollowed from too little food, her hands were as rough and course as planned, and for goodness sakes there was dirt on her nose. And yet, she was, in that moment, and in many others, absolutely lovely.
"It was at this precise moment that the Queen's jealousy absolutely overtook her. That even at her worst, Snow White was lovelier than she - this was not to be tolerated, this could not be allowed to continue. And, if there was no way to simply get rid of her stepdaughter's beauty, she would have to be rid of Snow White completely.
"Arrangements were made in absolute secret. A huntsman from several kingdoms over was hired, a man known far and wide for his utter ruthlessness when stalking his quarry. He was promised a ridiculous amount of treasure, and ordered that he should ask no questions. When he knelt before the beauteous Queen, and the assassination of Snow White was demanded, he did not flinch. When he was given the Queen's own velvet-lined jewelry box, still half filled with priceless treasures, and told that he could keep everything he found within, so long as he replaced them with the heart of the Princess as proof of her assassination, he uttered not one word of discontent.
"Bearing a letter for Snow White telling her it was finally time to come home, written in almost the exact match of her father's handwriting, the huntsman was dispatched to the secluded village. And the Queen, eager to see the deed finished, paced her mirrored room, and refused to ask questions she did not currently wish to be answered.
"When the huntsman reached the little village, the handsome stranger had long since been sent on his way back across the border, his supplies replenished, and sense of direction corrected. In payment, he'd left Snow White with a sweet smile in memory of his bright eyes and kind nature. Upon reading the letter from her father, however, Snow's mind filled with the excitement of returning home. After attiring her charge in a travelling dress and cloak once more befitting her true station, the long-suffering handmaiden offered to stay behind to pack up what little they had in their hovel, allowing the exuberant Princess time to bid farewell to the villagers that had been so kind to her.
"The Huntsman spoke little enough to her, allowing her what time she wished to say her goodbyes, but giving off a rather fidgety air of being ready to get on with their journey as soon as possible. When she was finally ready to leave, he mumbled about the lateness of the hour of the day, and escorted her out of the village into the darkness of the woods.
"When an hour or so of walking had passed, and the village was far behind them, the Huntsman suddenly paused, putting up a hand for Snow White to stop behind him, and listened intently to the forest around them. 'We should stop and take a rest here.' He suggested. 'It's as good a spot as any while there's still light to be had.' He pointed to a fallen tree trunk somewhat off the path, and bade her sit down, but did not join her.
"'Don't you need to rest for a moment, too, good Huntsman?' Snow asked kindly, but received no answer. Pondering the aloofness of her travelling companion, she studied him carefully. Now that the initial excitement of the thought of returning home had passed, she realized that choice of a Huntsman to be her escort, and not a palace guard, knight, or soldier was puzzling. Stilling upon the log as she thought even further, she realized that she had never seen this man at the castle before.
"As she slowly came to the realization that she might just be in danger, she heard the horrifyingly metallic sound of a blade being unsheathed.
"The Huntsman rounded on her quickly, naked blade glinting with evil intent in the streaks of evening sunlight that broke through the trees above them. Shocked and terrified, Snow White shot to her feet and turned with the intent to flee, but her instincts failed her, and she forgot about the fallen tree. Tumbling over the trunk, she fell hard onto the soft earth of the forest floor and missed her chance to run away.
"She was only able to scramble back up to her knees before the Huntsman's heavy footfall landed too near for an escape to be possible. Catching the glint of the knife flashing near her face, she reached out blindly, her fingers catching his sleeve and latching on in terror, desperate to keep him at bay. Looking up, she found that her attacker's face was stony with resolve, and begged for her life.
"'Please...' She managed, her eyes stinging fiercely as tears of utter terror spilled from them. 'Please...'
"The Huntsman stilled, watching the tears run down her lovely face, falling from eyes as blue and endless as the deepest pond. 'It's nothing personal, little Princess.' He bit out, his fingers gripping the hilt of his knife tighter. 'I have orders.'
"The blue of her eyes dimmed as a last glimmer of hope left her. If this was not his choice, then she was unlikely to be able to stop him. 'Please,' She said again, her hands shaking as they lost their grip on his arm. 'If I must die, please strike true -let there be no pain.' She shuddered with terror as he raised his blade over her head.
"As her eyes closed, unwilling to watch her own deathblow, she whispered, 'I forgive you...'
"The knife came down viciously, driving deep into the earth at her feet.
"Panting with emotion, the Huntsman's head lowered in shame. 'I can't..." He bit out. 'Not for all the riches in your kingdom. That she would want to kill someone so innocent...'
"Snow White, still frozen with terror, found her voice once more. 'Who is she?' She asked.
"'The Queen, your stepmother.' He confessed, then shook his head fervently. 'I don't know why, only that I was told to bring her your heart.' He shuddered and bowed lower, nearly prostrating himself before her. 'Please forgive me, Princess.'
"Snow's fingers moved instinctively to press themselves over her heart, making sure that it still securely beat within her chest, and found it hammering with shock. Her stepmother had never been warm to her, but to go so far as to hire an assassin? Snow White shook her head. 'It can't be true...' She managed a whisper.
"Quickly, with concern carved into the lines of his face, the Huntsman look up at her once more. 'It is true, little Princess, and you must believe me. You cannot return home - she'll stop at nothing to see you dead.' His fingers latched onto hers in his vehemence, his eyes boring into hers to make sure that she was hanging on his every word, as if her attentions could have been upon anything else. 'You must run, Princess. Run and hide from her - and live.'
"The realization of just how much danger she was in drove a dagger of fear so deep within Snow White's heart that she may as well have been struck with the Huntsman's blade. The utter silence of the forest pressed around them, the weight of his confession stilling the very air within the woods. And through that silence came the horrifying snap of an errant twig.
"Jolting them both in surprise, hunter and prey looked around to see an enormous, twelve-point stag staring warily at them from deep within the forest. It was frozen at the sight of them, curious and hesitant and proud.
"Slowly, the Huntsman released her fingers, his hand wrapping around his knife once more. Ever so carefully, eyes fixed on the great stag, his stance changed from one of ashamed apology, to apprehensive readiness. 'The Queen will have her heart.' He murmured, his lips barely moving. 'Do not return to the village, get across the border if you can, and do not, under any circumstances, allow the Queen to know that you are alive.'
"He did not wait for her answer, but sprang into action, showering her with fallen foliage as he began his chase of the stag. After so much shock and utter fear, she found herself still frozen to the ground, the sounds of the hunt deafening throughout the forest. She covered her ears with her fists until horrible silence fell once more.
"The Huntsman did not return after catching his quarry, and darkness had long-since fully overtaken the forest before Snow White found herself able to move once more. Shaking with fear and cold, she got to her feet and started walking. She had no idea where she might go, but she knew that she could not stay where she was. As she walked, the sounds of the forest at night surrounded her. The call of a fox sounding like a scream of terror, the snap and fall of an old branch sounding like a heavy footstep at her back. When a huge owl startled and swooped straight into her path, she lost what little nerve she had left, and began to run.
"With terror overtaking her, she had no idea which way she went, or if she stayed on a straight path at all. Branches grasped and slapped at her as she tore through them, invisible tree roots tripped her feet and smashed her toes, and finally, the ground beneath her disappeared and she fell, down and down until darkness overtook her entirely.
"When she awoke, it was to the shine of bright morning sunlight. The terror of the forest at night had melted with the dawn, and her overwhelmed emotions had melted with it. She sat up carefully, testing her limbs for injury after her fall, and found that she was surprisingly unharmed. Looking around her, she found that she had fallen to the bottom of a dry ravine, its sides rising steeply on either side of her.
"Her frayed nerves were jolted by a sudden noise from the top of the ravine, and her head twisted sharply in the direction of the sound. Up on the ridge, not too far away from her, but steep enough that she was unlikely to be able to climb it, sat a large red fox, its head tilted in curiosity as it stared at her. As she stared back, it sat down and dug its muzzle into the fallen leaves at the top of the ravine, sending a few scatterings down on top of her.
"Batting them away, she frowned. 'That wasn't very nice.' She scolded it, getting to her feet. She looked away from the fox for a moment, trying to judge the best way out of her current predicament, only to pause once more when the fox whined persistently. With her attentions focused on the creature, it nuzzled its nose to rain leaves down on her once more, almost as if indicating that it wanted her to climb up to it.
"She shook her head. 'It's too steep here.' She explained, wondering at why she was talking to the fox at all. When it whined again, tilting its head in confusion, she sighed and demonstrated that the hill was impossible for her to climb, gaining a scraped palm and even dirtier dress for her trouble.
"The persistent fox then huffed at her and began to walk away along the edge of the ravine. She thought that the curious little creature had finally given up on her when it stopped, looking over its shoulder at her and whining before taking a few more steps and sitting. Marveling at the absurdity of this encounter, but unable to think of a better way out of her current trap, Snow White shrugged to herself, and began to follow the little creature.
"And so, the two journeyed together. The fox would pause every few feet, intelligent features looking down to make sure that she was still following it, and whining slightly whenever it felt she may have fallen too far behind it. The frustratingly deep ravine was quite long, and it took the pair a good hour into the morning to reach the end of it. And there, cut into the steep incline, was a set of carefully placed stone slabs, forming a neat staircase up to the small yard of a well-kept little cottage.
"The fox watched her carefully, and waited until she had climbed about halfway up the steps before turning and scampering back into the depths of the trees around the cottage. Watching it disappear into the brush, she called out her thanks, feeling deeply grateful to the little creature. The comforting billow of smoke coming from the chimney of little house, nestled so deep within this forest, filled her with the hope of relief and safety.
"The large metal knocker on the small, stout front door was far more ornate than the first glance of the house suggested it would be, the dark iron intricately woven with gold. Curious, Snow grasped the great ring to announce her presence, and struggled, as it would barely budge from seeming disuse and need of oiling. She managed to knock it against the heavy wood of the door only once before it refused to be moved again, and hoped that it had been sufficient.
"After a few moments, however, it seemed that it had not, as no one came to answer the heavy little door. Worried that the single loud knock had not been enough to alert whoever lived within, she tried to rap on the door with her knuckles instead. However, she found that the wooden beams were so thick and heavy, that her fists would likely turn black and blue before they made sufficient sound up on the entrance.
"Feeling awkward, she was torn between waiting patiently on the doorstep and trying to find a window to knock upon instead. She certainly didn't wish to be rude, poking around a house that was not her own, but she also didn't want to frighten whoever might be inside, lurking like a dirty scoundrel lying in wait at their front door. Grimacing at her presumptuous decision, Snow White stepped away from the door, moving to peer into the closest window instead.
"She looked into a tiny kitchen, a fire snapping in the fireplace, and a huge soup pot hanging directly over it. A soup pot that appeared to have been boiling over onto the floor for quitesome time. Burned goop spilled out onto the floor around the fireplace, the shining grease upon its oily surface threatening to set itself ablaze with a single errant ember.
"Snow White rapped sharply upon the window pane, the sound echoing through the cottage, and still received no answer. Suddenly quite sure that there was no one at home to tend this fire, and afraid for the safety of the little house, she quickly returned to the front door. Trying the heavy latch, she was extremely surprised to find that the door had been left unlocked. She murmured a quick apology for entering uninvited before pushing through the heavy door and dashing towards the little kitchen.
"Using her dirtied skirt as a hot rag, she swung the arm of the stewpot away from the direct heat of the fire, and kicked the worst of the greasy mess away from the reach of the cinders. With the crisis averted, she breathed a slight sigh of relief before investigating her new surroundings.
"The kitchen was filthy. The burned goop of today's soup was obviously not the first to have coated the stones of the hearth, as there were great swaths of unidentifiable patches in varying shades of brown and black coating the light grey rock. Enough dishes to feed a village-full of diners had been piled in a bucket next to the pump sink, which had not been drained and refilled in weeks, if the murky color of the scum-crusted water was anything to go by. There was enough dust on the mantle beside her to have built up an army of dust bunnies, and the flagstone floor was covered in dirt and leaves.
"The only cleaning supplies that she was able to spy in the whole room were a single, sparse broom - tucked away in a dank little corner, and absolutely covered in cobwebs - and a single, tiny dishrag - floating in the scummy water that stagnated in the sink.
"'Oh, my.' She commented, grimacing at the absolute mess of the room around her. She didn't wish to be impolite and judgmental, but how on earth could someone live like this?
"She should have left the little house then, she knew. She had let herself in uninvited in order to avert a crisis - and had succeeded. To stay any longer would be trespassing - not to mention, extremely rude. But the smell of the stew, though rather burnt, reminded her stomach that she had not eaten since breakfast the day before, and it was suddenly all that she could think about. And, after all, the fireplace was still dirty enough to pose the risk of a fire.
"To clean the hearthstones, she first had to drain and clean the sink, and then clean the horrifyingly dirty dishrag, finding the remains of a bar of soap under a layer of dust. With the fireplace no longer a danger, she cleaned the least grime-encrusted bowl and spoon from the bucket of dinnerware, and gagged her way through a bowl of the stew - which was at once extremely burnt and utterly tasteless.
"Deciding that no one - not even someone who's home was as messy as this - deserved to come home to a dinner that was this horrifyingly terrible, she tossed the rest of the goop, and began a fresh stew from what ingredients she was able to find and dust off from around the little kitchen's larder. As it began to bubble and fill the little house with a much more inviting smell than its predecessor, she cleaned the dishes that made up the seven place settings on the table, as well as the rest of the dishes within the overflowing bucket, then dusted and swept and scrubbed until the little kitchen gleamed with the absence of caked-on grime.
"After checking that her own creation was not about to boil over and begin the newly cleaned mess all over again, she began to inspect the rest of the cottage. Finding the living room just as dusty and dirty as the kitchen had been, she cleaned it, too, throwing open all of the windows in order to air out the dust and the staleness of the indoor air. Finally, she swept her way up the dusty stairs to find one large bedroom, furnished with seven small unmade beds, each with their own pile of stale-smelling laundry.
"Sighing at the state of the room, Snow White set the broom aside, and gathered the laundry, taking it back down the stairs and outside to the scummy, dirt encrusted washbasin. After cleaning the basin, itself, she spent the rest of the afternoon washing the endless laundry before hanging each and every piece up to dry. Returning at last to the second floor, she cleaned the room of all its dust and dirt, then made each and every bed.
"As she was smoothing the last patchwork quilt over the last plumped pillow, an exhausted yawn overtook her that was so large and so fierce that hew jaw popped with the force of it, she curled on top of the mattress herself, and almost instantly fell asleep."