A Promise Through The Bars: The First Series

by Lemon Leopard

Princess Snow White, a title dead to her, is imprisoned one fateful night. For twelve years, she struggles to survive in her cell, slowly losing her faith, her hope, and finally her will to live. Just as she is about to end it all, a woman named Sara is thrown into the cell near hers. Sara asks Snow White to do her a favor. A favor that may change everything.

29. Chapter 29 Fourteen Years Forgiven

Chapter 29 Fourteen Years Forgiven

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

A flicker of gold light comes to me. What is that? I try to open my eyes, but I barely open them. Wait. There's a large shadow...of a man sitting before a fire rubbing his hands together. The shadow's head looks my way. I part my mouth, wanting to say something, but my eyes grow too heavy and fall shut.

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

The snow crunches beneath a heavy footfall. The snow crunches again beneath another heavy footfall. I manage to peel my heavy eyelids apart. The frozen wasteland bobs with each crunching step that is taken…I am not taking these steps. My whole front is resting on something solid. My legs are spread wide, straddling something...or someone. I feel...arms? Yes, those are arms wrapped about my thighs and gloved fingers gripping the insides of my knees. Someone is carrying me. But who? Or am I so close to death, dreaming up all this?

My mind gives up and shuts down. My eyes grow too heavy to keep open. Darkness comes again.

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

"Milady," someone says, so distant in the darkness. I lift my head an inch, but it grows too heavy and falls back.

"Milady," the same voice speaks. Tap, tap, tap sounds in my ear, my numb cheek jiggling with each tap.

"Mm," a hum vibrates in my throat. Annoyance pricks me. Tap, tap, tap against my cheek again!

"Milady, you must wake up," the same voice says, so much closer. A man...his voice familiar somehow. "I have milk! It's warm, relatively fresh." The man laughs a few times before it ebbs to silence. "Wake up please." Something presses against my bottom lip. I cannot feel its temperature nor its texture, but I feel the pressure. What a strange feeling.

"Try to drink," the man says. A warm, sweet scent wafts into my nose, stirring a bit of life in me. It smells like vanilla bean and...is that cinnamon? Or nutmeg? My mouth waters despite my parched mouth. I haven't smelled anything this good since...God, how long has it been? It seems like an eternity. I could open my eyes, but I don't want to. I open my mouth, silently begging for the warm, sweet scent to be poured onto my tongue.

"Here," the man says, the pressure on my bottom lip rolling upwards. Something washes over my tongue and fills half of my mouth before it stops. Did he pour—my frozen tongue grows warm. Oh, such wonderful warmth! A hint of the vanilla bean and cinnamon flavor appears and quickly blooms into this rich, frothy milk! Oh God, the taste! I manage to close my mouth and swish the milk around, warming up the rest of my mouth. I push my breath out of my nose like a pleasured sigh. I must have died. I must be tasting heaven. I have never tasted anything this good. Sadly, I cannot resist the urge to swallow, and I do so in one big gulp. The milk slides down my throat into my stomach...and there comes the warmth following the same trail down my throat to my very core. I gasp in a breath, loosening the tension about my lungs.

"That's it! Have some more." The mysterious man pours more milk into my mouth, which I swish about to savor the decadent flavor before swallowing it in another big gulp. I peel apart my frozen lips, waiting for the man to pour more milk in. He tips the cup, pouring more of the rich, almost-buttery milk onto my tongue. I barely savor the flavor of the milk this time and swallow, opening my mouth for another drink. The man gives me another drink of the milk.

The flavor of the milk soon fades to the massive, aching hole in my stomach that desperately needs to be filled. I try to lift my hand to grab the cup, but my arm grows too heavy and drops in my lap.

"Just rest. All you need to do is drink," the man says, his voice...familiar. Where do I know that voice from? The man tips the cup, pouring more milk into my mouth. The worries get pushed to the back of my mind with each gulp of warm milk I take down.

"Let me get you some more." The snow crunches a lot...as if the man is getting up and moving away from me. I gather what strength I have and force my eyes open. The large shadow of a man is crouched before a crackling fire. He picks up a large skin and pours its white drink into a cup in his other hand. I look the man over. He is well dressed with many layers of leathers and furs, but his beard sticks out, thick and fiery. Even with all his layers, I can see that he is burly and plump, a hefty build of muscle and fat, though not close to Eric's size. The man eats well. If only he could share with me where he gets all his food from. At his hip sits a knife.

The man finishes pouring the milk into the cup and sets the milk skin back down on a pelt spread across the snow. He scoots about and freezes, his eyes stuck on me. His dark eyes widen.

A relieved grin pushes up his reddened cheeks. "You're finally up, thank God!"

My heart stills in my chest. That smile...those cheeks, those dark eyes, that fiery red hair, that voice...it's all so familiar, but where do I know him from?

"You could barely open your eyes for the last two days," the man says as he scoots back over to me and holds the cup to my mouth. He grins again. "You have no idea how happy I was to find you, to…," he shakes his head, his eyes filling with awe, "...I can't believe you're alive!"

My eyes widen. My heart pounds harder and harder with each beat, anger tightening about my chest like coils. "Wessel!" I hiss. I would scream at him if I had the strength to.

The last of his smile and awe leaves him. "Princess—"

"Traitor!" I spit out, the coils tightening about my chest. My fingers twitch, begging to clench into fists. How the hell is this bastard here!?

A look of distress twists his face. "I know it looks that way, but it's not what it—"

"YOU LEFT!" I want to shout, but my words come out as a hoarse whisper. My eyes prickle. My sight of the redhead bastard blurs. It all comes rushing back to me like one of my nightmares, but this is a whole new one. "You left when my father and I needed you! You sided with a traitor!" I choke on a sob. Damn it! The last thing I need is to cry before this arse!

Wessel hangs his head, hiding his face from me. "I'm sorry," he says softly. "I should've…," he shakes his head, keeping it bowed. "I should've come back for you," he whispers. The fire crackles and pops behind him. The wind picks up, whistling as it brushes over my face. I sniffle, another sob catching in my throat. I never realized how much his betrayal wounded me.

"You…," I sniffle again, fighting so hard to keep my weeping silent, "...you were my brother!" The sob escapes me. I grit my teeth. Damn it! Another sob forces its way up my throat and out of my mouth. Another sob escapes me. And another. My head grows too heavy to keep up. I let my head fall and close my eyes. God, why can't you let me forget this!? All this!? My failure to save Eric. My failure to save Greta. Wessel, Papa, Mama! Why!? I'm so tired of fighting and mourning and feeling the guilt that I have incurred! I just want all this to end.

"Eric called you Greta," Wessel murmurs.

My eyes snap open. Eric? Something sparks in my heart. Something dangerous. Something I loathe. Hope. Most likely false hope. I should not give into it. I should keep my head hung low. I just want this all to end...but...God, what if? What if I am not hearing things!? The spark of hope lightens the load of my head.

I lift my head enough to look at the redhead traitor. "Eric?" I utter his name, my voice hoarse.

The traitor lifts his head just enough to look me in my eyes. "He was alive when we found him." My heart stutters and misses a beat. Was? Wessel opens his mouth, saying, "We found him in deep sleep, but still breathing. Torrance quickly recognized what he was poisoned with—"

"Incendium," I whisper. Torrance. There's that name again.

Wessel nods, his eyes growing wide. "Yes, that! Torrance gave Eric some herbs that woke him. He knew who we all were right away. He said he knew we'd be coming for him because he sent Ylva to us—"

"Ylva," I interject again, my scrambled mind trying to piece all this together. Ylva. Eric's black horse. He said he could read her mind and she his by some dwarven invention.

Wessel nods again, a question in his eyes. "You know her?"

I can only nod two times, unable to close my mouth. I'm just...Ylva sent Torrance and Wessel to find Eric and me? She's a bloody horse! Though, she's an unusual mare.

"Right. Well, Eric then mentioned a woman who was with him. He didn't care about himself. He wanted all of us to abandon him and just find you, but Torrance and Locke stayed with him to get him to Vilgard while I went on to search for the woman he said was Greta...which must be you, Princess—"

"That title is dead," I cut him off, the need for rebellion swelling in my stomach and chest. Wessel's face falls as I shake my head. "Don't ever call me that again. You will call me Greta in front of Eric," I swallow hard, tears pricking my eyes, "if I ever see him again...alive."

For a moment, we look at each other. Wessel's eyes flit back and forth in mine, looking almost...desperate. Deep down, I know he wants me to rally Hammond's men to fight Ravenna and retake Tabor. That's what that desperation is. Sudden anger wells up in me. Hell, why should I now!? Eliza presented a much more tolerable plea than Wessel, and Wessel hasn't even pleaded with me yet!

Wessel's mouth finally parts. "Why didn't you tell Eric who you truly are? Did you know?"

My brows furrow. "Know what?"

His brows shift as his eyes fill with worry. It's unsettling. "What happened between your father and Eric? Back during the Phantom War?"

My eyes widen, his words separating my already scrambled mind into several pieces. I shake my head. "My father, Eric...how could they have possibly met!?"

"During the Phantom War!" Wessel nods once. "For nearly a year, Eric fought under King Magnus' banner, a foreigner who swore fealty to your father. Eric did so along with his brother."

My eyes pop open as wide as they can, surely looking humorously big on my face now. "His brother!?"

"Lukas, but we called him Luke," Wessel adds, bobbing his head like a boat on choppy waters. "Eric and Luke left their homeland as willful exiles to fight back the evil that sought to devour this land. They came before your father, swore fealty to him, and they fought beneath his banner as his soldiers. They became some of the finest warriors your father had. He was so impressed with the brothers that he offered to make Luke a knight and he was hoping Eric would accept a position at the war table."

"Oh!" I gasp, the pieces starting to come together for me. Eric called himself a willful exile of Stigr's clan. Not just him, but his brother too! He never mentioned his brother.

"We all became friends, Luke, Eric, Torrance, Locke, Jerome and I. We were good friends. At one point, even brothers. Well, things were going well. We were winning the war. We were so close to ending it and coming home, but…," Wessel shakes his head, his eyes darkening like storm clouds encroaching on the land, "somehow, the enemy learned where our major supply camps were. One night when many of your father's soldiers were sleeping, the enemy struck. Alot of our supply camps were burned to the ground with your father's soldiers asleep in their tents. One of your father's dear friends was killed at one of these supply camps."

I swallow hard. I remember the day that terrible news spread throughout the castle. We all mourned Sir Hashem who was rumored to have been burnt at the stake by the black glass knights as some taunt. Or perhaps a terrible display of the enemy's power. He was a dear friend of papa's, and he was a good man. I remember watching from a small distance when Sir Hashem's wife was informed of her husband's grisly death. It was...hard to watch.

Wessel swallows, the sound reaching my ears. God, I don't like the look on his face, nor the sound of spit sliding down his throat. It stirs unease in my stomach.

"So," I start, my voice so hoarse that it almost croaks, "what happened next? I won't like it...will I?"

Wessel frowns. "No, Princ—Milady." He tips his head to me, a silent apology for his mishap of the tongue. I frown at him. His silent apology stirs in my heart, wanting to not be so angry, to not be so full of hatred for the traitor.

"Will this explain why you left? Why you never came back?" My voice croaks, a sob threatening to escape me. I fight it, though my sight of him blurs with tears again.

"Perhaps," he says. "What happened...well, evidence was brought forth that Luke was the one who had consorted with the enemy and revealed the locations of all the supply camps that were destroyed. It was easy to convict the poor boy. The evidence was...damning." My mouth drops. Wessel sighs. "The only defense Luke had was his character. Eric swore to your father that Luke would never betray him. I, too, vouched for Luke, as did Torrance, Jerome, and Locke. We all knew Luke did not have a traitor's spirit in him. He was loyal to a fault! But your father...perhaps his grieving heart for our Queen – your mother, and now his dear friend...it must have blinded him." Wessel drops his gaze to the ground, as if he is reliving this horrible time. "He would not hear us."

I shake my head, anger boiling up in me. "My father would never do such a thing! He would heed the counsel of his best men! He was grieving, but he would never allow himself to be blinded by it!"

Wessel lifts his gaze to me and frowns, pity filling his eyes. "Milady, I know you love your father, as do I," he holds his hand to his heart, "but our King had lost his Queen and his dear friend. He was angry. He wanted justice for his friend. The evidence was damning."

"So you believe Luke was guilty?" I ask, my voice trembling.

Wessel shakes his head as he lowers his hand from his heart. "No, I believed he was innocent then, just as I believe it now, but my belief did not matter then as it does not matter now. King Magnus held Luke on trial and found him guilty of treason. He was sentenced to death and was taken prisoner. Eric went to your father and begged him to spare Luke's life and banish him instead, but your father would not budge. After he turned Eric away…," Wessel sighs, "...Eric took matters into his own hands. He was determined to save his brother. He never told us what he plotted to do. He tried to free his brother the night before his execution was to take place. He almost succeeded, but they were caught at the very edge of camp by the hounds."

I shake my head, not wanting to hear anymore of this.

Wessel frowns. "Do you not want me to continue, milady?"

I open my mouth, wanting to say as much, but the words hitch in my throat. No, I must hear this. I must know why Eric cannot learn my true name...why perhaps he can never learn my true name until I am safe in William's arms...or perhaps he can never learn my true name. I close my mouth. "Tell me. I must know."

Wessel swallows audibly. "Well...Eric and Luke were caught and both were taken prisoner then. By your father's orders, his men separated Eric and Luke and put them at different ends of the camp. As soon as Torrance, Locke, Jerome and I heard about this, the four of us plotted to free Eric and Luke. We only had time to free one of them before Luke's execution, so we had to save Luke first. We didn't know at which end of the camp Luke was, though. We...picked an end and prayed Luke would be there. We had no way of knowing for sure at which end of the camp he was being held captive, but we had to act. The plan was to free Luke first, get him to safety, and then come back and spring Eric. We went to the end of camp we prayed Luke was at when the guards were changing. We snuck in...but we found Eric instead," Wessel says, grief tainting his voice. I groan, my stomach churning so much. I am not far from retching up the milk curdling in my belly. I cannot believe any of this...and yet somehow all this is true.

Wessel continues, "We were too late to save Luke then. All we could was save Eric now. Oh, I've never seen Eric become so angry as he did when we freed him. He begged us to leave him and to go save his brother, but we were already too late."

"I feel sick," I mutter. I manage to lift my heavy hand enough to cover my aching stomach.

Wessel's eyes widen with worry. He rests his free hand on my shoulder. "I'll stop if—"

"No." I shake my heavy head. "Finish."

He sighs and gently squeezes my shoulder. "We freed Eric. We got him out, but he turned and ran back to save his brother. We ran after him. Eric got there just before the headman struck. He went right to the headman. He nearly killed him, but your father intervened to save the headman. Eric then turned on your father and nearly killed him! It all happened so fast. It was like a wild bear was tearing through the camp, but your father's men were able to stop Eric. Your father, out of...overwhelming emotion, took his own sword and struck at Luke's neck with three strikes before...before his suffering ended," Wessel's last words quiver, yet I cannot see if there are tears in his eyes as the stinging tears in my eyes blind me.

"Eric was taken prisoner again. He was to be tried, be found guilty, and be sentenced for his high crimes. Eric was tried that day and found unanimously guilty. He was then sentenced to death. The night before his execution, Torrance, Locke, Jerome, and I freed him once more. We got him out this time. We all left together. After that, we were all branded traitors. The five of us had our own bounties set for us. The highest price was for me."

"Oh God," I whisper, endless tears trickling down my cheeks. In a sickening, twisted way, all the pieces of the past, everything Eric has told me thus far—it all weaves and connects into one coherent piece. For the first time in what must be days, my mind is working as it must. Yet my heart falters and aches with a foreign ache. I just...how could my father allow his anger to get such a strong hold of him!? He was a wise man! He was a good man, and yet this side of him...my breath leaves me as white smoke. Not just a moment ago, I wanted to strike Wessel. I cursed him in my mind and in my heart for fourteen years. My mind and heart warped him into some hideous, disease ridden rat. I must have been as my father was at that moment Eric tried to save his brother from the headman's axe. Wounded and hurt, blinded by grief and the sting of betrayal layered on betrayal...it's hard to not grow to hate those who have wounded you. So very hard.

"Milady." Wessel sets the cup of milk down on the snow and gingerly cradles my neck in his gloved hands, catching my tears with his thumbs. "Why do you cry? Tears are not good on your skin with this cold. Here, come closer to the fire!" He takes his hands from my neck and wraps an arm about me and takes one of my frostbitten hands in his, helping me closer to the fire.

What's left of my heart twists about itself, so wrought with grief and guilt. Why do I cry, he wonders. Now I know why he went against my father and left. He sought to save his friends. No, not his friends, but his brothers!

Wessel brings me close enough to the fire for its heat to touch my numb cheeks. Lying on the snow close to the fire is a sword in its scabbard. A tingling sensation starts on my cheekbones and grows into a burning pain. I cry out from the pain of warmth and life returning to my frozen face. Wessel is no traitor! If he had known I was alive all these years, he would have come for me! If he would come searching for a stranger called Greta, how much sooner would he have come for his little sister!?

He holds me to him with his protective arm. I break down into a sobbing mess. God, what a relief this is! The white weasel that had been warped into that disease ridden rat so many times in my dreams—there's no truth to it! Perhaps that nightmare will leave me now. Oh God, I have my brother back! To have him back...to have family back, it's…

"Wessel!" I wail and turn my face into his chest. I try lifting my arms to embrace him, but they are too heavy. My sobbing wracks through me, barely muffled by his leathers. "You're back!" I weep, my words barely muffled. "You're back! My God!"

His chest trembles against my forehead. Both his arms wrap about me. "Yes," he says, his voice croaking. "Yes, milady."

We both weep. I weep louder than him, but he is weeping just as earnestly as me. If I had the strength to hold him, I would be doing so now! To go from having lost everyone I ever cared about to now having a part of my family back—What's left of my heart soars, almost reaching its former height. Wessel may not share my blood, but he was always no less than a brother to me. More so than William ever was. God, the thought that I have someone in this dying world now. I have a dear friend. A brother. One who will stand beside me despite my true name. God, perhaps...would he still stand beside me if he learned the dark truth of the evil I welcomed into my heart? It's not something I can risk telling him now. Not after I just got him back! But perhaps...one day. Just not yet. I cannot lose him. Not when I just got him back!

I know time is moving on unaffected by our bittersweet tears, though it feels as if time is both standing still and racing ahead of us.

"I'm sorry!" I sob, my shoulders shaking. "Forgive me, Wessel! You are no traitor!"

"There is nothing to forgive!" He holds me tighter to him. "Forgive me for not coming back for you. I...I left you in the enemy's hands all these years," his voice cracks with tears. "If I'd ever thought that you were alive, I would've come back for you!."

Our weeping softens, our fourteen years of tears starting to run out.

"It doesn't matter anymore what you would have done if you had known," I say. I manage to lift my head, wanting to look my brother in his eyes for these next words. Wessel pulls back enough to look down at me, meeting my teary gaze with his own. I swallow hard, trying to remove the lump stuck in my throat. "You came looking for someone you didn't know. I know you would have come back if you had known I was alive." More than all the words Eric has given me, I believe Wessel would have come back for me. After searching for a stranger out in this frozen wasteland, I believe him. An inkling of fear remains that he would leave me if he knew of the evil in my heart, but there's no one I trust more than Wessel. Not even Eric.

A smile pushes into Wessel's pinkened cheeks, as genuine as it is bittersweet. "Thank you, milady."

"Snow." A true smile spreads my frozen lips, my flesh splitting painfully. My teeth grit against the stinging cracks in my lips, but my smile remains. "When it's just us, call me Snow. Please."

His smile grows some. "Snow." He tightens his arms about me and pulls me into another embrace, rocking back and forth with me a little.

I turn my weary head enough to peer at the fire past Wessel's coat sleeve, though I barely notice its dancing gold flames blurred by my remaining tears. In my heart, I still feel the space between Maacthis and me. My heart fills with that familiar guiltful ache. Eric is still fighting Maacthis for me—no, not for me, but for this Greta who doesn't exist.

He is still alive. That much I can be certain of. If his soul left his body, then he would have learned of the evil I had welcomed into my heart. He would have gladly stepped aside and allowed Maacthis to torment me once more. I sigh. The trust I had in Eric...if he ever learned that I am the daughter of the man who murdered his brother, there's no telling how he would react. Would he spare me and only abandon me without a second thought? Or would his hands that I adore so much wrap around my throat? Would he look into my dark eyes and only see the dark eyes of his brother's killer? Many have told me that I have my father's eyes. I swallow, a new fear growing in me. Eric can never, ever learn my true name. In these three hundred sixty-one days left of my life, my true name must be kept from him. It won't matter after I'm dead, but for the rest of my life, it must be kept from him.

A stronger wind blows against Wessel and me, tipping back the tops of the flames. They crackle louder, a few pops sounding here and there. A shiver courses down my spine. I lean more into Wessel for some shelter from this bitter cold.

"Rest now. Night's coming," Wessel says. He sits down beside me and grabs at something by my chest. I glance down, watching his gloved hand grab a thick animal pelt and pull it tighter about me. I swallow once more, trying to get this damn lump out of my throat!

Wessel picks up the cup of milk off the snow. He tilts the cup, but the milk doesn't shift with the movement. "Tsk! Look at that!" He shows me the cup and turns it upside down, no milk pouring out of it. "Completely frozen!"

A small chuckle escapes me. Wessel chuckles with me as he turns the cup rightside up.

My chuckling dies quickly as Eric comes to the forefront. God, how I hate that my trust has been shaken in him. It is no fault of his own. That is what makes this so much more loathsome. "Wessel, about Eric…"

"Yes?"

I swallow again for what must be the hundredth time since I opened my eyes. "I...back in the dark forest—"

"You were in the dark forest!?" Wessel asks, shocked.

I nod, my head too heavy to spare him a glance. "Yes. Eric knows the dark forest."

"That's why Ravenna hired him to find you."

I scoff. "You put it so much nicer than Eric, but yes, I think that's why. There's not many who know it."

"For good reason."

I bob my head. "If it wasn't for Eric, I wouldn't have made it out of there. That's part of why I didn't tell him my true name. When we had gotten away from Finn and Ravenna's black glass knights, Eric asked me who I was. Ravenna never told him. That led me to believe that if she had told him, then he would have refused to hunt me down."

"No amount of gold would have persuaded Eric to go back into that forest," Wessel says.

That raises my brows. "Hmm. You know Eric well."

"Yes. What did Ravenna promise him?"

I open my mouth, the answer at the tip of my tongue, but the words stop there. Guilt stirs in my heart. The price Eric agreed to hunt me down for...Is that something he would want anyone to know? The only ones who really know about that are Finn, Ravenna, Eric, and me. I let go of my breath and draw in another. "I'm not sure if Eric would want me to tell you. It feels wrong."

I feel Wessel's eyes weighing on the top of my head. "Then don't tell me," he says softly, so full of understanding.

My heart softens for what it once cursed. "Thank you," I murmur. "Regardless, you know I didn't trust Eric enough to tell him who I really am. I...still don't. And now I find with good reason," I choke up, my eyes prickling with a new kind of tears—tears over lost trust in a man who I want to trust so dearly. I came close to it. I even convinced myself that he would never end me nor harm me. To be back at the beginning all over again—No, not just the beginning of when he found me in that dark forest, but fifteen, sixteen years in the past! Back when I was only a child who had no idea of the darkness her dear papa was capable of…

"Back in the dark forest, you were wise to keep your true name from him. But when we found him and Torrance woke him, you were all he was talking about! He asked to see your face. He was distraught when he learned you weren't there." Wessel's words give me the necessary strength to lift my chin to see him. Despite my blurry sight, I see his face enough. "You said it. I know Eric well. He's a good man who loves honesty and truth. If you tell him now who you are, he'll understand."

Another welling of tears comes forth, blinding me. I shake my head. "No, he won't! My father murdered his brother! He'll abandon me then!"

"He won't abandon you!" Wessel sets the cup of frozen milk down and brushes the tears from my right cheek. "He cares about you. That much I saw and heard the very instant he awoke. Whatever promise or deal you two worked out, he will see it through to the end."

I choke on another damn sob! "He promised to get me to Hammond's...alive and well. His words. Not mine." My head shakes, my heart too swollen with fear. "He'll never do that if he learns my true name. I cannot lose him. Not yet. Not if Torrance can save his life!" Damn it, what am I saying!? I never had Eric!

Despite my blurry sight, I see Wessel shake his head. "How much do you care for him?" he asks, something shifting in his voice. It stirs up great fear in me. It tenses all my muscles, preparing me to flee from here. Why does it matter how much I care for Eric? I know Wessel would never harbor any romantic feelings for me. He has always been as a brother to me, and I as his sister. Surely, he wouldn't...though, I was a child then. I am no longer a child.

"He's my friend," I say, trying to keep my voice as steady as possible. There. What could be wrong with that?

Wessel takes his hand from my cheek. "So long as that's all it ever is, then that's fine."

"Why!?" The question is out before I can stop it, forced out by my sudden anger.

He shakes his head. "Your title may be dead to you, but your people still hope and pray for a restoration of what Tabor once was. When your people learn that you're alive, they will see you as the heir to your father's throne! Ravenna will lose her claim to it."

"Right!" I snap, my tears lessening enough to see Wessel's face. My people. Damn him! "Because we all know she's just going to give up peacefully and walk away!" I knew this was going to happen! I knew he was going to plead for me to take back Tabor! I just thought I'd have a bit more time to bask in the happy reunion with my long lost brother. He knows how to pull at my heartstrings too. My people, he called them. My people...

He frowns deeply. "It won't be easy. It will be a fight, but Duke Hammond's men are ready! Your house is waiting for you to restore order to it! You and Prince William will be able to unify House Augustus and House Hammond, and perhaps together you'll be able to turn House Tobias' support from Ravenna!"

I shake my head, hardly believing my ears. "I knew you were going to plead with me. I knew it! I just didn't know that you'd jump on it so quickly." I shrug my shoulders hard, getting Wessel's arm off of me. Pain rips through my right shoulder, but I don't care. I would scramble to the other side of the fire if I had the strength to! "House Augustus!" I sneer. "That was never my father's house. Many would gladly have taken his seat and his crown. Some have tried! No." I shake my head, unable to wipe the sneer from my face. Nor do I want to. "Ravenna already wants to tear out my heart and eat it." Wessel's eyes widen with horror, but I continue, "Her brother wants to force himself on me and slit my throat like some pig! I don't need twenty others now trying to plunge a dagger into my back!" Bits of that nightmarish memory come back to haunt me. The sea rushing in my ears, the salt water stinging my eyes and filling up my lungs, that hand crushing the back of my neck as it forces me deeper into the water—God, don't think of it, Snow. Don't.

Silence comes between us. Terrible, tense silence. I glare at Wessel for as long as I can. My exhaustion soon creeps in and overwhelms me. I let go of my breath and deflate like a squashed grape, losing every bit of anger that I had. I drop my gaze to the fire, my eyes watering with more tears. As you and Eric continue onward to Hammond's fortress, please do not forget what happened in Hymark…all the lives lost. Eliza's words replay in my head like some terrible toll of the bell. I remember those two boys who were dueling with sticks in the street, how their father stood between them and their mother and the black glass knight that sought to end them. The darkness that came over Geoffrey's face after he said his final goodbye to Eliza...he never got to see his daughter be born. He never got to hold her. The screams and shouts that rang in the streets and carried over the rooftops as Hymark was burned to the ground...There are so many lives at the tyrant Queen's mercy. For the last fourteen years, she has slaughtered us one by one. If this continues, soon there will be none of us left. Sweet little Guinevere. What's left of my heart wrings itself of my blood. God forbid any harm should come to her! God forbid.

Sara's plea rushes back to me. I ask that you consider Eric's heart. Be gentle and kind with it. He is a good man who wants a good thing, but that good thing will cost much. I scoff to myself. What could he possibly want? To bed me? That's not a good thing. It's a sin. It's a sin we both want. Eric said he was not asking for my hand nor my heart...yet he pulled my hand from my heart. He exposed it and covered it with his own hand. All he wanted was for me to not cut off my heart from him. Everyone else who cares for me is hoping that I'll go to Hammond's and implore his aid to reclaim Tabor. To have found someone who expects nothing from me, but still cares for me and hopes that what we want from each other can be more...

"I'm sorry, milady," Wessel speaks up, breaking the tense silence between us. My ears tingle as my lifeblood flows back to them. With what strength I have, I turn my head enough to look at Wessel. He returns my gaze with his sad one, a deep frown etched into his face. God, I hate this tense air between us! If I could get my brother back, but also make it clear that I do not want to hear more about this, then all will be well.

I force a faint smile. "Snow, remember?"

His frown lessens some, but it still remains. "Snow," he says softly. His eyes flit back and forth in mine, searching for something. "Snow...Eric is my brother and you are my sister. I don't want either of you getting hurt."

My brows furrow as I shake my head. "It's not my intention to hurt Eric. Nor you. Eric is my friend. I care for him more and more with each passing moment, but it will never be more than friendship. That I can promise you."

Wessel's frown deepens again. "If you say so. Just...watch your heart and his heart. Hearts are funny things. They can grow too fond of each other before you realize it."

Worry and guilt fills me. "I do not want Eric's heart." Utter lie. "I would never ask for Eric's heart." A sting forms in my heart. I swallow hard. "Nor would I ever give him my heart." A whip lashes across what's left of my heart, leaving a burning stripe. All Eric asked was that I do not cut my heart off from him...but for his sake, I must. God, I...as much as it hurts to even think this, I should say something to prove to both Wessel and to myself that I will not fall victim to false hope's trap. It's such a sweet trap, promising that what Eric and I want from each other can be so much more than just a short-lived dalliance. It's a trap for us both. Nothing more. These last few days have proven that I am no freer than I was in my cell. I am alive and I never died. I was fooling myself by thinking that my assumed demise severed all my ties to William...Though, would William have remained unmarried for all this time? That spark of hope appears and starts growing in me.

I swallow hard, my heart on the edge. I pray that William is married, but I cannot outright ask Wessel that. He already suspects Eric and me of more than just friendship. The last thing I need to do is prove his suspicions right. "My hand is William's...if his hand has not been taken by another yet."

Wessel's eyes widen some, filling with that sickening hope. "His hand is empty, still waiting for yours to fill it."

My heart falls off the edge, battering itself on the sharp edges as it tumbles down. William's hand is still not taken even after I was thought dead. How right I was. I drop my gaze and look into the flames, my tears blurring the writhing gold streams. My chains have tightened now that my feet are outside of my cell. For many years, my heart and my hand were William's. I dreamt of what our wedding day would be like many times. I'd never admit this to anyone, but I dreamt of what our wedding night would be like many more times than that. Many would call me unclean of heart for dreaming of that, but it was so much nicer to think about than the terrible torture and end Finn promised for me. Even after I realized that Duke Hammond and Duke Tobias would never ride with all their men and might to free me, my heart and hand were still William's. But now my path has crossed with Eric's.

My eyes were drawn first to the hunter. Then my heart shifted. I'm not exactly sure when it started shifting, but now most of it has already been cut away and given to the hunter! A strange pang appears in the center of my stomach and knots up. It's an aching knot, filled with excitement, trepidation...and yearning. Yearning not just for his flesh, but for so much more. Eric asked me to not cut my heart off from him. I did the opposite. I gave him most of my heart. What's left of my heart...I bite the insides of my cheeks, my heart stirring and twisting in ways it never has before. What's left of my heart...it's already his. God, how right Wessel was. My heart has grown too fond of Eric. I didn't even realize it had happened until now.

My heart strikes the bottom hard, the impact almost bursting it open. I...I love Eric. I love him. Despite my trust being shaken in him, for all he has done for me...I know he expended the last of his strength to build that snow cave for me in the valley. He spent his last waking moments uplifting me, reminding me of when and where I was strong, and of when and where I had made the right choice.

He's still alive. There is still a great space between Maacthis' evil and my heart...and it feels as though that space has grown! What's left of my heart rises, but it does so with a heavy weight chained to it. I want to see Eric again. I want to see him again awake, breathing. I want to see his smile pushing into his precious blue eyes that give me a glimpse of the sky that I have not seen for these fourteen years.

"We're heading to Vilgard...right?" I glance at Wessel, my heart filling with dangerous hope.

He nods. "Yes. We're almost two days away should the weather be kind to us."

Should the weather be kind to us. That almost sinks my heart. Almost. "What about Eric and Torrance and–and Locke?" Yes, that's the third name Wessel mentioned. Aside from Jerome that is, but he must still be with his family. "How far are they from Vilgard?"

Wessel bobs his head in thought. "They should be there by now if nothing has slowed them down. You wandered far away from Eric. It took me nearly three days to find you!"

My jaw drops, but my heart soars with hope. He made it! He must already be receiving the proper herbs for the incendium poison! What else could explain the sudden growth of the space between Maacthis and me? It's as if Eric gained the sudden aid of many allies to help him in his fight against Maacthis.

I can't stop the smile from splitting the cracks in my lips again, causing me some stinging pain. The thought that my future could hold me seeing Eric again...my God, I can't wait! To see him, to embrace him, to hear his voice again—my smile leaves me. I love him. For this reason alone, he can never know that I love him. We can never have more than a short-lived dalliance. Knowing that William's hand is still empty, even more so knowing that I don't even have a year left to live...I can't give Eric false hope. Hell, Eric hasn't even bedded me yet, and already I love him! What if his heart has followed the same path? He was the one who asked me to not cut off my heart from him. He said that what we want of each other can be more.

I almost can't believe that he may love me. It seems impossible, but if I have come to love him in the short time we have spent together, me who has been fighting it so hard to begin with, then how much easier would it be for him when he is not fighting it?

I love him. For that reason...perhaps I should not even dream of knowing his goodness in the most intimate way. I should spare him not just of my heart, but of my flesh, too. Still, I cannot bear to lose him. Not yet. Only when I am safe in William's arms behind Duke Hammond's fortress walls can he learn my true name. Hell, what am I thinking!? I've never had him! But...I want him with me, beside me, taking every step with me right into Duke Hammond's fortress, right into William's waiting arms.

"Wessel," I say, breaking the silence.

"Yes?" he asks, sounding as if he just woke up from sleep.

I look at him and frown, my heart hurting for him. His eyes are half closed, as if I just woke him from sleep. "I'm sorry, I did not know you were asleep."

"No, no, I was not asleep." He shakes his head and forces back his slumped shoulders.

A small chuckle escapes me. "You were always a bad liar."

Wessel smiles down at me and throws his hands up. "You caught me."

We chuckle together, but my laughter dies quickly as Eric comes to the forefront once more. Wessel's amusement ebbs shortly after mine, his face falling.

I swallow the spit that has gathered in my mouth. "Wessel, I need you to promise me something even though it will go against your conscience."

His face falls more. "What is it?" he asks hesitantly.

I swallow again, my spit pushing past the growing lump in my throat. Damn it, I think my sickness is coming back. I just pray it doesn't steal my voice this time. "Please, when we reach Vilgard, do not tell Eric my true name." His mouth opens to refute me, but I say, "I know you say that he will understand, but I...it's a chance I can't take. Wessel, I cannot take that chance! He will learn my true name when we reach Hammond's fortress, but until then, I am Greta to you, to him, and to everyone else!"

His shoulders slump in defeat. "You can trust him. He will not turn on you nor leave you."

My head shakes of its own accord. "In my mind, I think I can trust him, but in my heart…," my head shakes more, what's left of my heart hurting dearly, "...I cannot convince it. No matter how much I want to, I cannot persuade it! There's a fear in there that's...necessary."

"Necessary?" Wessel echoes, pain in his voice. He opens his mouth, ready to say more, but his breath catches in his throat. He doesn't know what to say.

I sigh. None of what I said makes sense...yet it does make sense. "If what you have said is true, then my own father," God, I still cannot imagine him doing such a wicked thing, condemning and executing an innocent man, "he murdered Eric's brother. I have my father's eyes, Wessel! The eyes of a murderer."

"Your eyes are your own! Eric will see that!"

"And what if he doesn't!?" The words come out of me on their own, the fear alive and thriving as it stirs in my heart. "I've seen Eric overcome with his emotions before." Hell, I've felt it in the way he kissed me on Delaney lake and in that damn tree well! "Wessel, it's a risk I cannot take. Is it a risk you're willing to take?"

I look at Wessel, waiting for him to refute me. Part of me is hoping that he continues refuting me, that he truly believes that Eric would never turn on me nor leave me. I wait...and wait...the forlorn on his face only twists with dread. That strikes my heart with even greater fear.

"I would never put you at risk," he says finally. That bit of hope in me dies. Wessel shakes his head. "I would and will never tell him your true name. It's your choice and yours alone. I'm sorry. I feel responsible for your inability to trust others."

I frown. "I trust others, Wessel. I do...but we are all capable of betrayal. You and me included." I look at the fire again before I can see Wessel's reaction and drop my head on his shoulder.

"My God, Snow," he says with horror, but he wraps his arm about me once more, accepting my small token of faith in him. "What happened to you these last fourteen years!? You never saw others like this."

I sigh. "Hell, Wessel. Hell." I shake my head against his shoulder, more than ready for sleep now. "Let's talk no more of it. I know you're tired."

"Yes, and you as well," he whispers, crushed and defeated. Guilt stings the edge of my heart. I hate being the one to have dampened his spirit so much, but it's the truth. We are all capable of betrayal. Some may be more inclined to loyalty, yes, but even the best of hearts can be turned. Ravenna's was, after all. My father...even he has betrayed the two men who left their family behind to aid him against Ravenna's black glass knights. Then there's me. I welcomed evil into my heart despite papa pleading with me not to. In that way, I betrayed him. I betrayed Ravenna by refusing to kill that poor dwarf. Yes, I refused then to wield this evil, but I still betrayed her. What Eliza begged me to do...my people...I can no longer claim ignorance. My fear of having my heart torn out of me, the fear of facing such a painful death, is enough for me to refuse to fight for my people. I am choosing to betray my people. And there is the cowardice that I am too comfortable living with.

I know where I'm going when what's left of my heart beats its last. There's plenty of room in hell, especially for people like me.