Chapter Text
Contrary to popular belief, Snow White wasn't stupid.
She knew that Grimhilde hated her. She had known for a long time, probably since her father had first introduced them. The withering glares when her father wasn't looking, her sugarcoated words with an underlying sting; honestly, anyone would have picked up on it. Everyone except her father, of course. Yes, Grimhilde clearly hated her. Though, if Snow was being honest, the feeling was mutual.
Well, she tried not to hate anybody. Snow didn't remember much of her mother, but she recalled her overwhelming kindness and grace. Surely, Eva Waldeck had never hated anyone. She tried not to think of how disappointed her mother would be if she heard that she held such negative emotions.
She had attempted to push them back. Snow never talked back or lashed out. She had nothing but kind words for Grimhilde, always greeting her with a smile. It gave her a sort of sick satisfaction to know it got under the older woman's skin.
"Margaret, come here!"
Snow sighed at the use of her real name, trekking toward her stepmother's office. 'It used to be Daddy's office,' a bitter voice inside her head reminded her. Grimhilde had taken over everything after her father's death. The family manor, her father's company, and his financials were all under her control. It made Snow sick; it was almost as if her stepmother had been waiting for her father's death.
Still, she plastered her usual dazed, distracted smile on her face as she entered the office. "You called for me, ma'am?" she asked pleasantly. The corners of her mouth twitched as she watched her stepmother's eyebrow twitch with indignation.
Good.
"Yes, Margaret, I did," confirmed Grimhilde sharply. "We'll be hosting a guest tonight for dinner." Her pale green eyes narrowed as she glared at the girl in front of her. "I trust that you will make sure everything is in order."
A guest? They never had many of those. Most people were, understandably, unsettled by Grimhilde's unfriendly nature. She almost pitied whoever was coming over. Despite these thoughts, Snow nodded. "Of course, ma'am," she agreed. Taking a chance, she added, "May I ask who will be joining us?"
Her stepmother seemed to consider this for a moment. "Florian Charming," she answered.
Snow wracked her brain. Florian Charming was the heir of Charming Industries, a partner of Waldeck Corporation. She had never met him personally but had seen him in passing a few times. She vaguely wondered what Grimhilde wanted with him. For his sake, she hoped he was brave enough to stand before her stepmother.
Apparently, Grimhilde was tired of looking at her. "Off with you then, girl!" she commanded, waving her away. "I must plan for his arrival." Her eyes narrowed. "And you have cleaning to do, Margaret."
The girl was tempted to roll her eyes but refrained and did as she was told. Hopefully, she would be able to get through dinner without Grimhilde making a fool out of her.
OoOoOo
Snow picked out a nice blue top, a yellow skirt, white flats, and a red ribbon to wear to dinner that night. Honestly, she didn't even feel like sitting through a dinner with Grimhilde. She had spent the entire day cleaning the manor from top to bottom and she was exhausted. After her father's death, her stepmother had fired all the staff cleaning and caring for the estate was left to her. She would have fired the chef too, but she absolutely could not cook.
The girl entered the dining room where Grimhilde was already seated. The older woman raised a vindictive eyebrow at her attire. "You're wearing that, Margaret?" she questioned.
Snow White frowned, taking in her outfit. She thought she looked nice, but maybe she had been wrong. "Do you not like it?" she questioned, a bit timid. After all, what did she know about fashion?
Grimhilde rolled her eyes. "It will have to do," she huffed impatiently. "Take your seat, Florian should be arriving soon."
She did as she was told, smoothing out her skirt as she sat. She was a bit nervous about meeting this Florian; anyone who was part of a deal with her stepmother didn't sit well with her. Immediately, she chastised herself; judging others without knowing them wasn't nice.
The doorbell rang and Grimhilde jumped up. "I will get the door," she announced, fixing the girl with a hard stare. "Stay put and don't mess anything up."
Snow simply nodded and smiled. "Yes, ma'am," she replied agreeably. Her stepmother sent her one last glare before stalking away. Snow traced the rim of her glass as she waited, almost dreading what was to come. Grimhilde only ever ate dinner with her when they were having an important guest and she wanted to show her off. Snow had a feeling that it was to assure the outside world that she was perfectly happy and healthy under her care.
Of course, that was the only way she would keep her power.
"Margaret," snapped Grimhilde shrilly, drawing her attention. "Florian has arrived."
Snow felt as though her breath had been stolen right out of her lungs as her eyes settled on the young man next to her stepmother. Florian Charming was a tall young man with neat brown hair and lovely amber eyes. He was dressed in a nice dark blue button-up and light blue khaki pants, all ironed. His eyes seemed to focus on her at the same time because his mouth curled into the most beautiful smile she'd ever seen.
Snow quickly stood up. "H-Hello," she greeted a little too quickly. She felt her pale cheeks flush in embarrassment at her stepmother's scrutinizing glare and slowly stuck her hand out.
Florian smiled brightly at her. "It's very nice to meet you, Margaret," he replied, gently shaking her hand. His voice was as smooth as silk.
She tried not to grimace at her real name. "You as well," she recovered, putting on her usual dazed smile. Her stepmother had made her out to be a silly airhead who was unfit to take over her father's company.
Snow had used that to her advantage.
Grimhilde impatiently cleared her throat. "Shall we eat?" she suggested tersely.
Florian seemed to immediately school his features. "Yes, of course," he agreed quickly, unceremoniously plopping down in his seat. Snow and Grimhilde followed and their food was soon brought out.
Snow could hardly keep her eyes off the handsome man across from her. He was unlike anyone she had ever seen before; she was sure that there had never been a more beautiful man. She could hardly take her eyes off him, barely touching her food. At times, Florian would catch her eye, wink, and then proceed with talking with Grimhilde.
It was enough to make her white cheeks as red as the apples in the table basket.
Truthfully, Snow White had never interacted with many males her age. Grimhilde had seen fit to send her to a Catholic, all-girls school when her father passed (never mind the fact that her stepmother was an atheist). She hadn't been this close to a boy since elementary school. Something about seeing this one- this particular young man- made her heart pound against her chest.
Grimhilde handed Florian a stack of papers. "These are for your father," she informed him. She attempted to give him a warm smile, but it came out more like a grimace. "Please, send William my regards."
Florian responded with a much more genuine grin. "Will do, Mrs. Waldeck," he assured her. His gaze settled on Snow once more. "And I do hope to meet you again, Margaret."
Snow swallowed the nerves crawling up her throat. "L-Likewise," she stammered. She smiled back, but this time she didn't smother it. She did hope to meet Florian again. Perhaps she could make a friend after all these lonely years.
She tried not to dwell on the fact that Grimhilde would never allow that to happen.
OoOoOo
There was an old wishing well near her family manor.
Snow found herself there often as a way to remember her mother. The late Eva used to take her here all the time. The two of them would even have picnics under the tall oak tree. She came here on her most miserable days, the memory of her mother almost making everything better. Today, however, she was simply contemplative. Though she tried, she could not get the mysterious Florian out of her head.
Snow caressed the cool stone, allowing her fingers to graze the edge of the well. Her mother used to tell her that singing one's wish into the well would make them come true.
She had always been a hopeful person and right now all she wanted more than anything was someone to love. It may have sounded silly and maybe even foolish, but... Didn't everybody need love? She had lost both her parents, didn't she deserve to love and be loved in return?
Making up her mind, Snow peaked into the deep well. Her reflection peered back up at her; her raven hair and her brown eyes and her pale skin. Her reflection succeeded in showing her how tired she was. She closed her eyes for a moment, recalling the old nursery rhyme her mother used to sing her.
I'm wishing (I'm wishing)
For the one I love
To find me (to find me)
Today (today)
Every insult Grimhilde had thrown in her face replayed in her head. No one had ever said anything nice to her since her father had been alive. She couldn't help but miss those days.
I'm hoping (I'm hoping)
And dreaming of
The nice things (the nice things)
They'll say (they'll say)
People would call her naive. People would call her foolish. But Snow couldn't find it within herself to care. The day her dreams would shatter was the day she gave up on them.
I'm wishing (I'm wishing)
For the one I love
To find me (to find me)
Today (today)
That... wasn't her voice. Snow jumped as Florian's reflection appeared next to her own. She whipped around to find herself face-to-face with his perfect features. She stumbled away from his awkwardly, caution swelling in her chest. What was he doing here? How had he even gotten here? Didn't Grimhilde have the manor under tight surveillance?
Florian gave her a soft smile. "Hello," he greeted calmly.
Snow's eyes darted to the manor, praying that her stepmother wasn't watching. "H-Hello," she responded. "I, um, you shouldn't be here." It came out harsher than she meant it to. There was a slight edge to her voice that normally wasn't there.
Guilt flashed across his face. "I know," he admitted. "It's just... I had to see you again."
She titled her head. "Why?" she questioned. Grimhilde kept her so well-hidden that most people didn't give her a second thought.
The ever-so-charming Florian shuffled awkwardly. "Well, you looked sad and lonely," he confessed. "And it's not like I have any friends. I thought, maybe, we could be friends." He held his hands up in surrender. "I wasn't trying to be creepy, I promise."
Snow giggled genuinely, something that hadn't happened in years. "It was a little creepy," she divulged. For some reason, she felt herself relax. After all, it wasn't as if Florian was that much older than her. From what she'd read, he was fifteen, just a year older than her.
Maybe this would be alright. Maybe she could finally have a friend.
Her lips curved as she raised an eyebrow at the young man in front of her. "What kind of name is Florian, anyway?" she teased, feeling just a bit more confident. She faltered slightly, however. What if he was named after his grandfather or something? Was she being unkind?
Florian groaned, rolling his eyes. "I didn't pick it," he informed her. His eyes sparked with mischief, so she knew he was joking. "My dad wanted to make me sound smart or something, but it just makes me sound pompous. I'd like to have something more common, like David." He raised his own eyebrow at her. "What about you, Margaret?"
Snow laughed softly. "Grimhilde is the only one who calls me that," she told him. Not even her parents had called her Margaret. "Everyone's always called me Snow White, or Snow for short."
He tilted his head. "Because you're so pale?" he guessed but immediately flushed. "Sorry, was that rude?"
She waved away his concerns. "It's the truth," she assured him. "My mother started calling me that after one winter. We were playing out in the snow and she couldn't see me even though I was right in front of her. She told me that I looked as white as snow and, well, it just stuck, I suppose." She had never told anyone that story before.
Snow and Florian talked for the rest of the afternoon, unaware that dangerous green eyes lurked behind them. Someone was watching their every move.
OoOoOo
Snow White's lips parted as a bullet whizzed past her face, grazing her cheek.
She gasped, staggering backward. The animals around her had been startled, fleeing as quickly as they could. She clutched her cheek, the entire area exploding with pain. She whipped around, coming to face a surly man with guilt in his eyes and trembling hands. He held the gun out toward her and she felt herself begin to shake, paralyzed with fear.
"What..." she began, her voice hardly above a whisper. "What are you doing?"
The man twitched and she flinched, preparing to be shot at once more. Was this how everything was going to end? Her mother died of illness and her father of a car crash, maybe it was only fitting that she would die by assassination. But the man threw his gun. "You have to leave!" he told her frantically, his eyes darting around.
Snow blinked, her heart pounding in her rib cage. "What? Why?" A million questions swarmed in her head, but not one formed a coherent thought.
"Your stepmother," the man clarified. His eyes were urgent and she felt her chest tighten. "She wants you gone, you can't stay here."
For a moment, she didn't know what he meant. Sure, Grimhilde was vicious and spiteful, but to want her dead? It was absurd! But that was when Snow recalled her time with Florian. She had been so enraptured by their conversation that she had forgotten to pay attention to her surroundings. So there was a very good chance that her stepmother had seen everything.
Suddenly, Snow couldn't find it within her to doubt the words of this man. "Thank you," she uttered to him. At this point, her only option was clear.
Margaret Eva "Snow White" Waldeck turned and ran from everything she had ever known.
OoOoOo
Living with seven men was unconventional, Snow knew.
But really, it wasn't as though she had much of a choice. It was either stay there or be left to her stepmother's mercy. These were the only people who were willing to house her. Grimhilde had offered a heavy sum for whoever could bring her back. The only reason they didn't turn her in was that they despised her stepmother almost as much as she did. And all she had to do to stay was cook and clean. She could do that considering that it wasn't as though she could get a job.
Besides, it wasn't as though the men she lived with were perverted. A bit captivated and puzzled by her maybe, but not perverted. In fact, she was fairly certain that they were all asexual. After all, why else would seven men opt to live together without the company of a partner?
"Snow, dear."
Snow White looked up from her sweeping to meet the eyes of Doc. "Hello," she greeted pleasantly. She kept up her guise with them so that they knew she wasn't a threat. That was how she had gotten them to let her stay in the first place. "Are you all heading out?"
Doc nodded. "Gotta make a living somehow," he replied lightly. She used to take offense to comments like those (how, exactly, had their house looked before?) but now she just laughed them off. "You remember the rules?"
She nearly rolled her eyes. How long had she been living here again? "Of course," she responded agreeably. Don't open the door for anybody, don't leave the water running, don't leave the stove on; all simple rules, really. "I'll be fine, Doc. Have a good day at work."
Doc nodded and smiled at her. "O-Of course then, d-dear," he stuttered, as he sometimes did. "Have a good day." He left, the other six trailing after him. She waved to them as they left.
Snow hummed to herself as she finished sweeping, allowing her mind to travel. It had been almost six months exactly since she'd run from her stepmother and things were going slow. She knew she couldn't stay with the older men forever, but where could she go? Another city wouldn't be enough, maybe another state wouldn't be enough.
She sighed, dumping the contents of the dustpan into the trash. It wasn't like she could go anywhere without money and she would have to wait a year and a half to even be eligible for a job. Even then, who was to say that Grimhilde wouldn't find her? She would have to fake her papers or get a job under the table.
The dishonesty of it all made her frown.
Her stomach suddenly growled, indicating that it was time for breakfast. Making her way to the fridge, Snow tried to recall the last time she had gone shopping. Did they even have anything to eat for breakfast?
Upon opening the fridge, her eyes immediately zeroed in on a ripe, red apple. Odd, she didn't remember buying any apples lately. Upon further inspection, there was a tag on the step. 'For Snow,' it read.
The corners of her mouth twitched upward. "They must have gotten this for me," she assumed out loud. How thoughtful. She would have to thank them when she got home. Smiling to herself, Snow thought nothing of taking a bite.
It was deliciously sweet and juicy, more than any regular apple. Suspicion crawled up her throat long after she'd swallowed when she felt her breath grow short. The world began to spin around her as she gripped the counter. It was as if her heartbeat was slowing down as she struggled to draw in oxygen.
Snow White collapsed onto the floor, the apple rolling out of her hand.
OoOoOo
She woke up in a hospital.
Snow blinked as her eyes focused on her surroundings. Her wrist was hooked up to an IV and she was dressed in a hospital gown, lying in a hospital bed. She had never liked hospitals; her mother had died in a hospital. She groaned, attempting to recall how she ended up here. Was she hurt? Sick? The last thing she remembered was eating the apple...
Of course. How could she have been so stupid? Her friends hadn't gotten her that apple, Grimhilde had placed it there. She must have gotten too comfortable.
"Oh, you're awake." Snow looked up to see a woman in a lab coat standing in the doorway. She wore a kind smile on her face as she approached. "You gave us quite a scare, Miss Waldeck. How do you feel?"
Snow sat up. "Fine, I think," she answered. "I... What happened?"
The doctor frowned. "You consumed high doses of Atropa belladonna," she explained. "It's a rare poison found in Germany, commonly known as nightshade." She smiled slightly. "Lucky for you, you lived in the company of seven miners. The activated charcoal around their house and on them is what saved you. Though your body took a few days to recover." She gestured to the side. "That young man hasn't left your side since you were brought in."
She turned to see none other than Florian slumped into a chair and fast asleep. "Goodness," she breathed. The poor thing looked terrible! She tensed suddenly, a horrible thought coming to her. "Does... Does my stepmother know I'm here?"
The woman grimaced slightly. "Unfortunately, Grimhilde Waldeck had passed," she revealed. "She fell to her death shortly after you were brought in."
Snow was almost sad to hear that. "So... What happens now?" she questioned.
The doctor smiled. "Well, you should be set to leave today or tomorrow," she answered. "After that, it's entirely up to you."
Entirely up to her... Snow had to smile. It felt good to hear those words; she had never been in control of her life. What was she to do, though? Florian's light snoring caught her attention. Taking a chance, she reached out and took his hand.
Maybe they could figure it out together.