Prince Florian David Alcott hated his name.

He hated his name, he hated his title, he hated what he had to do because of his title and his name. They all made him have to do things like this, visit some old Queen who looks at him like a piece of meat. And when he's not doing that, his father has him out looking for younger women, practically still girls, with parents who are auctioning them off like cattle.

As he led his horse through the gates of the Royal Castle of Talbot, he couldn't help but admire its beauty. Strange, considering the towns and villages he'd seen on his journey here looked like they were on their last legs.

After confirming who he was and where he and his men were from, they were welcomed into the palace with open arms. Servants rushed to take his belongings and bring them to his room, since he's being forced to stay here for at least three weeks. Another servant, a man by the name of Hobbs, came to escort him to the throne room to meet with the Queen.

They reached an antechamber and the balding man instructed him to wait, then left, presumably to announce his arrival to the Queen. He stood there for what felt like fifteen minutes. He supposed that they probably didn't expect him here for at least another day, but he and his men took a shortcut to beat the winter temperatures. He was counting the stones in the walls to pass the time when he heard a slight gasp from behind him. It was a girl, a few years younger than his twenty-three, dressed in clothes that certainly weren't becoming, but also much nicer than what most servants could afford.

What struck him odd was the sheer contrast of the clothes she wore to her beauty. It rendered him speechless. Long raven hair, lips red as a rose, and skin white as snow. She looked at him with wide, brown eyes, her pail of water forgotten on the floor. His glance at it seemed to snap her out of whatever trance they were in, and she rushed to clean up the mess.

"My apologies, sir. I assure you that I'm normally not this clumsy."

God above, even her voice was beautiful. It was like she was singing him a song. He found himself just staring at her again, astounded that something so beautiful would be doing something such as this. He didn't realize at first, but she seemed to take his silence for disapproval. Finally, he noticed that the song he was hearing was actually her muttering countless apologies, getting faster and faster the longer he stayed silent.

He was about to tell her that it was alright, even ready to get down on his knees and help her clean, anything to stop her from apologizing when Mr. Hobbs came back into the room.

"Snow, what on earth do you think you're doing?" The man asked, his voice full of exasperation and disapproval. The thought of someone reprimanding her seemed so utterly wrong to the Prince that he found himself coming to her aid, immediately.

"It's not her fault, Mr. Hobbs. I scared her, and she dropped the pail."
"Well, she should know better. What are you even doing out here anyway?"
The girl, Snow, looked to her feet and quietly said, "Mary said that the Queen wanted to make sure the throne room was spotless for the guest."

The Prince suddenly regretted that he and his men arrived before expected. It took eight days as it was, and with the temperatures dropping, he just wanted to get himself and his men here as fast as he could, he hadn't thought about how it may affect anyone within the castle.

He shook himself out of his thoughts. What was he thinking? It's not an issue. The girl didn't have enough time to make the throne room spotless, he didn't mind. It's not like she'll face a punishment for not having it done in time, there was no way for her to know that he would arrive so soon.
He fought the urge to look back at her, knowing that she'd cloud his thoughts once again. She sniffled and he nearly gave in, but thankfully, Mr. Hobbs ordered her to leave.

"I sincerely apologize, Sir, both for her disturbance and for the mess she made."
He was shaking his head before the man even finished. "It's no problem, it truly was my fault."
The man just shrugged, and he got the feeling that they did not agree, but before he could dwell on it any further, he was ushered into the throne room.

"Prince Florian Alcott of Valencia, Your Majesty."
A woman, who he would have thought beautiful if he had seen her before he laid eyes on Snow, smiled a saccharine smile as he came into the room. Dressed in fine silks and adorned with jewelry, and again he thought of the villages and people he saw on his journey here, and wondered how a kingdom's people could be living like that while its ruler lived like this.

"Ah, hello Florian, do you mind if I call you Florian?"
He learned long ago that someone of higher power, especially if you are a guest in that someone's court, is always right. So he simply said, "You may call me whatever you wish, Your Majesty."

She smiles again at him, holding out her hand for him to kiss. "Spoken like a true politician. Your parents trained you well."

At the mention of his father, he stiffened and remembered why he was here, dropping her hand immediately.

She didn't acknowledge his actions, and he was thankful. Instead, she returned to her throne, golden and unwavering. Most would see nothing more than a throne of a ruler, but he saw it for what it was, a way for her to assert her power. In his various visits, he'd seen the inside of hundreds of throne rooms, and learned that they, especially the thrones themselves, were a reflection of the ruler themselves.

The ones who saw no reason to show their power, were confident enough in their status that they didn't have need for elaborate shows of power, had simple thrones. They were ornate, sure. You'd never see a ruler just sitting on a wooden chair from the kitchen, but they would typically be fine with ones made of wood, with spectacular craftsmanship carved throughout. It still was a symbol of their power, and it was still intimidating, but less. . . .conspicuous, he supposed was the right word.

Rulers with thrones like these, with golden thrones adorned with precious jewels like sapphires, emeralds, and rubies, were the ones who needed to show off their power. They needed to make sure you didn't question it. To make sure you wouldn't try and rise up against them by intimidating you with their vast riches. They also typically had an abundance of guards and soldiers standing about, again, there to intimidate you. A quick look around the room confirmed what he was thinking, this was all true here.

Now, they all had their own reasons for this, of course, he suspected Queen Grimhilde in particular likely needed to do this to show the people that she could, indeed rule. He knew the stories, he had heard the rumors of the woman who was Queen for less than a season before an army of mist attacked, leaving her a widow and the only guardian to a Princess too young to rule.

He wasn't sure if he believed the "army of mist" part, though. He was twelve years old when the attack took place, only just beginning to prepare for his future role in the kingdom. So when merchants and survivors came to Valencia, telling stories of an army of mist coming and attacking the Talbot Palace before dawn, his father made sure he studied every story, every rumor, every account. King Ferdinand was far too prideful to admit it, but the Prince could tell he was scared. He didn't miss when his door opened at least three times every night for the next month, his father's head peeking to check on him. He didn't miss the way he never let his mother out of his sight, or the sudden increase in guards stationed around the castle.

But still, an army of mist? He knew of magic, heard stories about the wondrous things it could conjure up, but how could an army of mist take down over fifty experienced, heavily armed guards, and a King, who'd served several years in war?

The Queen's voice, smooth as silk, but still nothing compared to the song of Snow's voice, broke him free of his thoughts.

"I'm sure you're tired and hungry after your journey."

That was an understatement. "Extremely so."
"Well, Mr. Hobbs, can you show Prince Florian up to his rooms?" She turned back to him with that saccharine smile again. "Why don't you freshen up and lay down for a while, I will have Mr. Hobbs come and collect you when lunch is served."
"That sounds lovely, thank you."
He followed Mr. Hobbs out of the room and down several hallways and up several more staircases, before finally arriving at a large and spacious set of rooms. He couldn't make himself look around, though, all he saw was the bed, and was ready to punch the poor man if it meant he could go and sleep.

". . . your men's rooms are just down the hall to the right. The throne room and dining room are both down this hallway, to the right, down that staircase and, oh!"

The Prince had slammed the door in his face.

Yes, his mother had taught him good manners, especially when he was a guest in a kingdom, but he just couldn't bring himself to listen to the man's voice for another minute. He'd been imagining punching and slamming the man's face into the wall instead, so he thought slamming the door was a better alternative.

The Prince was scarcely out of his boots before he collapsed onto the plush mattress.

Although she tried to stop it, Snow White couldn't stop thinking about the Prince from yesterday. After scurrying away, she felt so embarrassed and so scared of what the Queen may do, that she slid down the stone wall and cried on the floor.

Mary had come by sometime later, and it was safe to say that the woman was less than pleased when she saw the condition Snow was in.

"Oh Heavens! Snow, what's wrong? Why are you crying, on your birthday of all days?"

She looked up and tried to reign in her tears when she saw Mary's worried face, but still couldn't stop them.

"I met the Prince. And I made a fool of myself in front of him. And the Queen will be so angry."

"Oh, Queen Fiend. I'm sure she won't mind too much about whatever it is that you did."
"Well, I spilled a pail of water all over the floor, purely out of fright when I noticed he was there, and I didn't have the throne room ready before he arrived."
"Oh, that's ridiculous. Snow, the man wasn't due to arrive for another few days at least. If anything, it's good that you hadn't polished and shined the floors of the throne room, he would have slipped the second he walked in. It always takes at least two days to dry, she knows that. Plus, I'd bet that she'd rather have a few scuff marks than a broken guest."

"Prince," Snow corrected quietly.

"Yes, yes, of course, I'm sorry." Snow didn't look up, but she could hear the woman heave a heavy sigh. "How about this, head up to your room, enjoy the rest of your birthday, and tomorrow you can find a way to make it up to her somehow."
"How?"
Mary looks at her with an exasperated expression. "Do you not listen to my words, child? I just said somehow. Clearly I don't know yet. I'll let you know when I figure it out."
She laughed and got up, following Mary's instructions, and heading to her room. Only, she realized when she got there that she had nothing to do. So, she sat on her bed and leafed through the worn pages of her

favorite book about a prince coming to save the princess and whisking her away to his castle, far, far away.

Snow had eaten lunch and dinner with the servants of course, listening to them tell stories of her father, how different life would be if he were still on the throne, if the Queen hadn't ever shown her face in these walls. How different it would all be if she were on the throne.

As always, Snow immediately said that they were wrong, that she was not fit to rule. And, as always, they told her that she was speaking nonsense. That it was all lies that the Queen put into her head. They told her how much the King used to love singing with the people as they danced, and recited the same story she'd heard a thousand times. The story of how the King met Queen Eva, who they loved and spoke of as if she were a deity.

She knew the story, of course. She'd forced her father to tell her over and over again, every night before bed. She'd have him sing the very song that they'd been dancing too in the village. The song he sang to her at their wedding not long after. "Now that I've found you, hear what I have to say . . . "

She thought of that all throughout the rest of the day. She even had a dream of her father singing it to her. Back when there was no Evil Queen or Queen Grimhilde, only King Leopold and Princess Snow.

The Queen's explicit orders for her not to be seen by the King didn't matter much. The Prince slept through lunch. And dinner. And breakfast the following morning. People around the castle were beginning to worry. When asked, his men said that he'd be alright, that it was normal for him to sleep for a long time after a long trip, but even they were beginning to worry. They were considering drawing straws on who would have to wake him.

Mary had decided that it would be best if she redeemed herself in the Queen's eyes for her little mishap in front of the Prince yesterday, so she asked Snow to tidy up the guests' rooms while they were eating. Mary was quite proud of herself on that one. It would redeem the girl, and she wouldn't have to be seen by the Prince.

However, she forgot that the Prince had been sleeping since the first hour after his arrival, and, as fate would have it, the man came strolling out of his room right at lunchtime, when Snow was just leaving one of his men's rooms after tidying up.

The Prince had been looking around, lost, trying and failing to remember the directions the man, Mr. Hobbs had given him.

Suddenly, he remembered why he couldn't remember them, because he never let the poor man finish giving them to him, instead slamming the door.

He was about to just go off of what he could remember and try to fill in any of the blanks with whatever he could remember from the journey to his room, when he heard singing.

It was beautiful. He felt like he was listening to an angel.

"One song, I have but one song."

He followed the sound of the beautiful voice until he rounded the corner, surprised but also somehow not when he realized it belonged to the same beautiful girl from the day before. Snow White.

She was balancing a tray of what looked to be cleaning supplies on one hip, struggling to also drag out a basket full of his men's soiled clothes at the same time. He couldn't help but go to her and help so that she could shut the door without difficulty. It was as if his body had a mind of its own, carrying him over to where she stood; as if his arm was not his own when he reached down and tugged the basket backwards. She was clearly still in her own world, oblivious to his presence, because when she felt the pressure of him taking the basket, she whirled around and dropped the cleaning supplies, a hand to her chest.

"Oh!"
"I apologize, Miss White."
"No, no, I apologize, it was my fault."
"It was no more your fault today than it was yesterday. I'm the one who keeps startling you."
She smiled, and he could've sworn he felt his heart stop. "Yes. I suppose that we should stop meeting this way."
It took a moment before he could regain his words. "I suppose we should, but I think I quite enjoy the little noises you make when I discover you."
"You do?"
The Prince hums, then says, "Very much. They are quite adorable."
Her smile fades, well I am glad I amuse you. If you'll excuse me. . ." She moves to continue down the hall to the other rooms, but he steps in front of her. She sighs, looking up at him. "Yes."

He's suddenly extremely aware of the fact that she is less than a foot from him, her face even closer as she looks into his eyes.

He gulps, then tries to cover the sound up with a false sense of confidence. "Where is the Dining Hall?"
"Oh," she whispers, as if caught off guard by the question. Then she turns her head and points down a hall to his right. "Down this hallway, take one left, then the next right, walk down the stairs and keep walking straight until you see it. It's difficult to miss, so I'm sure you'll arrive just fine."
He smiles down at her and thanks her before leaving and following her instructions. When he arrives at the Dining Hall, his men are all sitting at the tables and talking about who's straw is shorter. It takes him a minute to realize that they're drawing straws on who gets to wake him up.

"Drawing straws? Is it truly that frightening to wake me?"

They jumped and turned to see him leaning against a marble pillar, a smile creeping onto his face.

His oldest and most trusted advisor, James, smiled too. "Yes, actually. It's about as appealing as waking a bear from hibernation."

They all laughed, easing the tension that had taken hold of the room. That ease vanished as quickly as it had come when the Queen walked into the dining room. "Ah, Florian, I see you're finally awake."
He nodded. "That, I am, Your Majesty. These lovely gentlemen apparently thought me to be dead," he said, stepping away from the pillar to come to the table.

The Queen sat at the head of the table and the Prince could feel her eyes on him as he took his own seat.
"Florian, don't be silly, why don't you sit closer to me?"
He tensed at the offer, but refusing would be a sign of disrespect, so he stood back up, and sent a charming smile her way. "Of course, Your Majesty."
He sat again, and a second later, James cleared his throat. "Forgive us, Your Majesty. We did not think you would join us."

"That's alright. So, Florian, tell me about your kingdom. Your Valencia."

He loved his kingdom. He loved his people. That was probably the only thing he did love about his name and his title. That he had Valencia to rule over one day.

So he talked and talked, he'd go on for days if she'd let him. But when The Evil Queen asked about his kingdom, she didn't care about the kind and good nature of the people. She didn't care about how content and happy they were, to the point that they'd sometimes just sing and dance in the streets, much like the people of Talbot once did. No, she cared about his money. She cared about the vast treasures of gold and jewels she'd heard so much about.

She wasn't deaf. She knew people were starting to question where their money was going, so she decided to get out ahead of it. She made it known that she was considering remarriage, and after a handful of requests that honestly made her offended, King Ferdinand sent out a proposal for his son to stay at the Talbot Palace for three weeks; just in time for the Remembrance Ball.

She supposed it may be a bit of a callous decision to try and get a proposal from the Prince during a Remembrance Ball for her late husband. Whom she killed.

Oh, well.

She fought the urge to ask about his riches and tuned him out to try and find a way to bring the subject up casually. She was completely oblivious to Snow White's lurking presence just outside the room, who was hanging onto the Prince's every word.