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He doesn’t want to be a king. Hell, he didn’t want to be a prince to begin with, but King George literally blew himself up in a desperate attempt to get him and Snow out of the forest by burning it down.
What remains of the kingdom is now more or less rightfully his, but he’s nothing but a dressed up shepherd on a shattered throne. He can’t rule a kingdom. Snow on the other does what she always does: She takes things as they come. She’s so natural at this, that he suddenly remembers that this is natural to her. He feels like the world is spinning too fast and he can do nothing but watch as time flies by.
“Taxes…” Snow mummers, head tipped sideways. “You should think about taxes too and the commercial relationships with the other kingdoms, they will by now have heard about your uncle’s decease, so you should write to them.”
He nods slightly, without grasping anything she says.
She sighs, straightens her spine and folds her arms in front of her chest. “Have you at least heard a single thing I said in the last hour?”
He shakes his head, clears the tangles and knots in his minds. “Of course I have heard you. I’m sorry, if I seemed a little distant to you.”
She furrows her brow. “At least do me a favour and have the decency not to try to lie to me…” She gets up and walks around the table only to drop down again into a chair closer to his than her previous one. “…and tell me what bothers you instead.”
He gives her a weak smile that she doesn’t return. “Nothing bothers me. It’s just the cold weather that’s gnawing on me.”
“And that, my dear Charming, was another lie and I must say that I slowly start to feel a little hurt. You know, just because you will be king by…” she quips and he cringes at the word king.
She raises an eyebrow. “It’s the coronation, isn’t it?”
He looks at her and he knows she sees it for herself, but he still has to say it aloud. “It…I… I am no king. I wasn’t born that way.”
He gets up, frustrated and ashamed and turns his back on her to look out the broad glass windows instead. It’s silent for a good while until Snow speaks up again.
“So what?” she asks and he can hear her get up too,
“So what?” he snorts. “I cannot do it, Snow.”
She stops somewhere behind him. “Why? Why can’t you do it? Why should others be better?”
He turns to face her and she looks genuinely curious. “My father, Snow, was a shepherd, not a king. It’s not in my blood.”
She laughs a little and shakes her head. “Blood, Charming, does not make you a king. I am not more of a queen than you are king. My blood is no way different from yours.”
“Listen…I…”
“No, you listen.” She cuts in laughing warmly and cups his face in her hands. “What did he tell you about evil?”
He doesn’t really have to think about his answer. “It’s not born, it’s made.”
“And why should that not apply to kings and queens? I’ve see kings that behaved like court jesters and I know shepherds , who would be better for this kingdom and its people than George ever was. A good king does not know how to calculate taxes or how fight gruesome wars. A good king acts on what his heart tells him, not his advisers.”
He slides his hands up her arms to hold her wrists. “You are my heart.”
Her lips curl into a sly little smile. “So you should listen to me more often.”