Author's note: Hi everybody, sorry for the delay and for the shortness of
this chapter. I'll be posting more (soon hopefully). Please R and R!
Chapter 3
Snow White lay on her back in the four-poster bed, staring at the shadows on the ceiling. They seemed to dance and blur as a tear rose to the surface and dripped slowly down the side of her cheek. When she had returned from her audience with the queen, she had found a spray of rosemary on her pillow as well as a small necklace. The rosemary was pushed to one side, the leaves fragrant where she had crushed them accidentally. The necklace was clutched in one hand.
"Damn it." She whispered, brushing the moisture off her face.
Marianne was the second witch she had ever met. Snow White had been fourteen when the Queen had decided that even unsatisfactory princesses needed maids. Snow White had not complained, even though the loud and buxom woman found to fill that position smelled odd and could be heard clattering around in the room next door at all hours of the night. At that point, the princess was less concerned with a little odor and noise than her mother's favor, and was prone to fits of melancholy that would take hold violently and randomly, wracking her small frame with sobs until she succumbed to exhausted sleep.
She felt a little like that girl again as a sob threatened to choke her, but she looked over to where Jennifer was sewing placidly and smothered it. She had ridden anger and adrenaline as far as it would take her. Now she had no choice but to grieve for her loss. There was no doubt that Marianne would be better off out of this place. Even one as unskilled in the power as Snow White could feel the danger in Lily Rose. It was selfish to want her friend back in harm's way, but she couldn't help it.
Once Marianne had determined the princess' ailment, she relentlessly began to prod her into what she called a "correct frame of mind." Food that had previously gone uneaten, much to the dismay of the second under-chef who had a soft spot in his heart for the wraith-like princess, began to disappear as the child blossomed under Marianne's tutelage. She was introduced to the maid's incredible store of herbs and potions that had nothing to do with beauty and everything to do with healing and peace and industry. The days were spent walking out in the fields and woods, with the woman instructing the girl in plant lore. The nights before bed were spent mixing and concocting in the closet Marianne had been given for a room. By Snow White's fifteenth birthday, she no longer felt compelled to curl up in a ball at the sight of a mirror, even though Marianne persisted in making sure the Queen's wishes were observed in terms of toilet. When Snow White complained, Marianne simply replied that better two hours be spent in front of the vanity than risk the Queen's displeasure. The princess had thought about that for a while and recognized the wisdom in it. Still, every moment spent inside seemed worse than drudgery, and on rainy days, or worse, rainy weeks, she relapsed into deep depression.
"Lady?"
Snow White opened her eyes to see Jennifer's blanched face. "What is it, what's wrong?" She embraced concern as an alternative to sadness.
"I'm sorry to disturb you, Lady, but the crown prince is here."
"Ah." Snow White's eyes flitted to Jennifer's belly, only just beginning to swell. She sat up and took the rosemary into her hand. Rosemary for remembrance. "I'll see him after I wash my face. Would you help me put this on?" She held out the little pendant that Marianne had left her with the herb.
"Certainly, Lady."
Chapter 3
Snow White lay on her back in the four-poster bed, staring at the shadows on the ceiling. They seemed to dance and blur as a tear rose to the surface and dripped slowly down the side of her cheek. When she had returned from her audience with the queen, she had found a spray of rosemary on her pillow as well as a small necklace. The rosemary was pushed to one side, the leaves fragrant where she had crushed them accidentally. The necklace was clutched in one hand.
"Damn it." She whispered, brushing the moisture off her face.
Marianne was the second witch she had ever met. Snow White had been fourteen when the Queen had decided that even unsatisfactory princesses needed maids. Snow White had not complained, even though the loud and buxom woman found to fill that position smelled odd and could be heard clattering around in the room next door at all hours of the night. At that point, the princess was less concerned with a little odor and noise than her mother's favor, and was prone to fits of melancholy that would take hold violently and randomly, wracking her small frame with sobs until she succumbed to exhausted sleep.
She felt a little like that girl again as a sob threatened to choke her, but she looked over to where Jennifer was sewing placidly and smothered it. She had ridden anger and adrenaline as far as it would take her. Now she had no choice but to grieve for her loss. There was no doubt that Marianne would be better off out of this place. Even one as unskilled in the power as Snow White could feel the danger in Lily Rose. It was selfish to want her friend back in harm's way, but she couldn't help it.
Once Marianne had determined the princess' ailment, she relentlessly began to prod her into what she called a "correct frame of mind." Food that had previously gone uneaten, much to the dismay of the second under-chef who had a soft spot in his heart for the wraith-like princess, began to disappear as the child blossomed under Marianne's tutelage. She was introduced to the maid's incredible store of herbs and potions that had nothing to do with beauty and everything to do with healing and peace and industry. The days were spent walking out in the fields and woods, with the woman instructing the girl in plant lore. The nights before bed were spent mixing and concocting in the closet Marianne had been given for a room. By Snow White's fifteenth birthday, she no longer felt compelled to curl up in a ball at the sight of a mirror, even though Marianne persisted in making sure the Queen's wishes were observed in terms of toilet. When Snow White complained, Marianne simply replied that better two hours be spent in front of the vanity than risk the Queen's displeasure. The princess had thought about that for a while and recognized the wisdom in it. Still, every moment spent inside seemed worse than drudgery, and on rainy days, or worse, rainy weeks, she relapsed into deep depression.
"Lady?"
Snow White opened her eyes to see Jennifer's blanched face. "What is it, what's wrong?" She embraced concern as an alternative to sadness.
"I'm sorry to disturb you, Lady, but the crown prince is here."
"Ah." Snow White's eyes flitted to Jennifer's belly, only just beginning to swell. She sat up and took the rosemary into her hand. Rosemary for remembrance. "I'll see him after I wash my face. Would you help me put this on?" She held out the little pendant that Marianne had left her with the herb.
"Certainly, Lady."