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Chapter Text

Mirror mirror on the wall?
Who is the fairest one of all?

Queen Grimhilde had spoken these words so many times, she’d lost track. But it was never enough. No matter how often the Mirror reassured its mistress, her anxiety never abated. Time never stopped moving. Bodies never stopped changing. And the Queen’s hunger to be the most beautiful woman in the land never wavered. In fact, her need only grew stronger—a desperate longing, clawing and gnawing at her insides, invading her thoughts like a slow-acting poison. A frothy lava bubbling in her veins until they threatened to burst with the fear she refused to confront. The harder she gripped her black heart’s deepest desire, the more the desire strangled her in return. Her own reflection had become a drug, to which she was hopelessly addicted.

And then there was her stepdaughter.

Lips as red as the rose.
Hair black as ebony.
Skin white as snow.

Grimhilde rued the day she’d first begun hearing those lilting phrases, spoken like obnoxiously flowery poetry. An offensively sunny day that refused to dwindle, when life was miserable and the Queen wanted to drown in her self-pity. What nerve! How dare anyone speak of the girl in this manner, as if she were somehow lovelier than the woman who’d gotten the short end of the stick! What right did Snow White have to be so enthralling; so captivating that anyone in her two-meter radius was struck dumb?

Perhaps the Queen should strike them with a club, for the way they reacted to the young princess. And what with the Mirror warning the Queen that Snow White would one day surpass her in beauty, what other choice did she have, if she wanted to maintain her status?

It wasn’t enough to keep the princess locked away as a scullery maid. No matter how hard Grimhilde worked her, Snow White never lost her smile. She never lost the spring in her step. She never lost her hope for a better life. She never lost her desire to sing. She never lost her kinship with the local wildlife, who followed her like a gaggle of drooling, housebroken puppies.

It was disgusting. For god’s sake, the girl had lost both of her parents before she was old enough to even process what had happened...and now, she couldn’t have the decency to show even a little bit of stress and heartache on her face? A single scowl on her plump, red mouth? A single line or wrinkle on her perfect, alabaster skin? A single ratty tangle, or prematurely gray strand, in her silky black hair? It was enough to drive Grimhilde mad.

Perhaps she already was.

Could anyone blame her, though? No one had told her that King Bradley—who hadn’t even been her first choice of a mate—would fall ill and die mere months after their marriage, rendering baby Snow White entirely her responsibility. She had agreed to help raise the girl before the King’s untimely death, when the princess had been no more than a year old. The girl had been an extension of her lonely father, after all. But with Bradley gone and Snow White quickly growing into the most beautiful girl anyone had ever seen in this part of England, Grimhilde was frothing at the mouth. All she had left was her beauty, and the world had no right to take it from her.

The world had already taken her husband from her, which was a tragedy far beneath someone of her station. She did not deserve to be further irked and punished. She was entitled to look as young and beautiful as she wanted, for as long as she damn well pleased. And she would kill anyone who tried to stop her; nothing was more important to her than her appearance. Nothing. It was sacred. It was the only source of joy left to her. She would die of a broken heart on the day her visage began to fail her. And she wanted to be alive and healthy for as long as possible, thank you very much.

On that fateful day, when the Mirror told Grimhilde that Snow White had at last become the fairest in the land, the woman saw red. She wanted blood. She wanted revenge. She wanted her stepdaughter dead. She could find other servants in the girl’s absence; maids and other such personnel were replaceable. They hardly even counted as human beings.

But she would worry about that later.

-  +  -  +  -  +  -

“Pardon me, Miss!” called a male voice. The most beguiling, gentle voice Snow White had ever heard. Those three simple words struck her like a lightning bolt burning right through her heart, sending shockwaves reverberating throughout her entire body. She’d never experienced anything like it. The sensation frightened her, despite her excitement.

She shakily rose to her feet, abandoning the washing. Upon viewing the handsome young man, her mind went blank. She lost the ability to form words. He was tall and thin, with chestnut brown hair that contrasted perfectly with his pale skin—not as pale as hers, but close. Even decked out in his royal uniform, she could tell that he was in excellent physical condition.

His hazel eyes widened at the sight of her. He dismounted his horse with a small smile, and strode toward her. “Prince Florian at your service, Miss,” he proclaimed, extending his hand.

Snow White tentatively reached out and allowed the prince to shake her hand. His fingers were slightly calloused, but his grip was firm and comforting. Had he pulled her forward against his chest, she would not have resisted. He appeared so strong and protective.  

“And who might you be? I have had the pleasure of hearing you sing, but I would love the pleasure of learning your name.”

“S—Snow White,” the princess stammered.

“Snow White! That is beautiful. It suits you.”

“Thank you, Prince Florian.”

“Your voice is unlike anything I’ve ever heard. There are a few singers in my kingdom, myself included, and I am often called upon to perform for our guests. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a maid singing before. Might you consider a change in vocation? I will gladly speak on your behalf, should you wish to visit my kingdom! My father would love to have you.”

“Well...I’m afraid I don’t have much of a choice, you see. My stepmother, Queen Grimhilde, does not allow me to wander far from the castle. I’ve been her scullery maid since I was—”

Florian’s eyes flashed, before his posture melted into hunched shoulders and a downcast gaze.

“I—I see,” he sighed. “My apologies, Princess. I must confess that word of your existence has not reached my kingdom’s ears. Your stepmother’s? Yes. She is the reason why I don’t come through these parts too often. A few of her soldiers...murdered my mother a few years ago.”

“Oh, how dreadful! I’m so sorry. How did the soldiers—”

Florian held up his hand as his face hardened. “It’s no matter,” he replied quickly. “I’ve put it behind me. Anyway, despite my father’s warnings, I gathered that just one quick ride through this forest wouldn’t hurt, because I only fancied a bit of exploring. We keep to ourselves in my kingdom, outside of diplomatic meetings and musical performances. Venturing out too far is frowned upon. But what’s a little stroll in the woods, you know? I haven’t encountered anyone else so far, except you. And I assume you won’t tell anyone I was here.”

Snow White’s face heated up and her eyes moistened. Her heart suddenly felt too heavy in her chest. Her breathing staggered for a moment.

“I—I shouldn’t stay long, you understand,” Florian added, dropping his voice and casting furtive glances all around. “I wouldn’t want to incur the Queen’s wrath, or put you in danger.”  

Seeing the pain in her expression, he reassured her that her voice had touched his soul in the most unforgettable of ways, as did her beauty; but he had a duty to his homeland, and he was under strict orders to never agitate Queen Grimhilde. Such an act would imperil his father’s kingdom, and perhaps the surrounding ones as well. He had to prioritize his safety.

Snow White tried to reason with him. He’d already made it this far, so why couldn’t they simply continue to meet in secret, on the outskirts of the castle’s property? Or even in the woods?  

Florian told her he would consider it; but he was a very busy young man of twenty, coming into his princely duties. Older people tended to look down on younger ones, even those technically of age, and so Florian had to work hard to maintain his reputation.  

The princess rubbed her arms in an unconscious gesture of self-soothing, upon hearing such blatant evasion. Florian stepped closer and gingerly reached out to touch her face. She jumped.  

“I’m so sorry, Snow White. I—I shouldn’t have. You’ll have to forgive my forwardn—”

“Oh, no! I wasn’t offended. That...actually felt rather pleasant. I simply didn’t expect you to....”

They locked eyes. Florian didn’t even blink. The air crackled around them.

Without warning, Florian pulled Snow White into a crushing embrace. One hand cupped the back of her head, and the other gripped her lower back. As she tentatively slipped her arms around his waist, she felt as if she were melting into his sturdy form. She wanted nothing more than to stop time. To remain in Florian’s strong arms, inhaling his clean and crisp scent, and basking in the first hug she had ever received in waking memory.

“I will return soon, if I can,” he murmured into her hair. “Best of luck to you, sweet princess. I hope to see you again, in the future. Take care of yourself. And keep singing.”

She could only nod dumbly.

As Florian rode off into the forest, Snow White swore that he was taking a piece of her with him. And so long as he brought it back, things would be all right in the end. They just had to be.

-  +  -  +  -  +  -

The princess wiped a few tears from her eyes, upon recalling her first meeting with Florian, which had taken place in August of 1933. It was now September of 1936. How had so much time passed, with no progression in their relationship—if they could even label it as such?

What does he feel for me? she wondered, gazing off into the distance. Water began to pool at her knees, from the sponge she had stopped pushing against the floor.

Grimhilde had often scolded her for daydreaming; but sometimes her only solace was in fictional imaginings—or in reminiscing about the few happy memories she possessed, like scant tiny stars winking through the clouds on a dreary evening.

More tears fell.

She spent a good deal of time crying, but she would never tell her beloved animal companions about that. They needed her. She was a pillar of strength to them; a rare and kind human in a dominion ruled by cruelty and rage. If she wasn’t there to show them proper respect, who would? Her heart clenched as she imagined the poor little rodents and cats and birds and deer who would have no source of hope anymore. The birds could sing, of course, but their precious little voices could only work for so long. Snow White didn’t want the sweet things to tire themselves out. They had families to care for, and that was far more important than soothing their friends through song.

Despite the smile that adorned her beautiful face, and the spring in her step, the princess was breaking inside. Her entire childhood had been spent in servitude to her wicked stepmother. She had received no love from anyone, other than animals, since she was an infant. With her existence revolving around chores, she threw herself into her work—to stay busy, to give herself a sense of purpose, and to distract herself from thoughts of Florian.

Her furry and winged friends helped when they could; but they knew as well as she that they could only do so much. They could not carry heavy loads. They could not scrub a floor until it glistened. They could not convince Queen Grimhilde to give the princess a more comfortable bed, and to allow her to sleep before her body grew too weary to stand. All they could do was keep Snow White company. And she cherished that company more than anything.

Her eyes glistened as a fawn nuzzled the smooth, creamy skin of her arm. She stroked the baby deer and kissed its head, which earned her a soft lick on her cheek.

“Oh, bless you. A sweet little thing you are, just like your parents!”

She looked up to see the mother and father deer, who almost seemed to smile at the adorable scene before them. Maybe one day, she could be like them: a proud mother, standing next to her husband as their hearts overflowed with love for their child, who inherited her compassion and love of singing.

But first, she and her beloved would have to actually spend time together, as equals; not as a royal prince and a princess-turned-maid with no rights of her own. That still had yet to happen. She felt like a pathetic underling next to him. She didn’t feel like a real royal, the way he was.

How had so much time passed, with no resolution, when they still had such a strong connection? How did she still pine for him after all this time, while he remained unsure of what he wanted? She should be disgusted with his wishy-washy behavior; and while those feelings did surface frequently, her underlying emotion was love. Pure, unconditional love. No expectations. No agenda. She simply loved him. She couldn’t shake it, no matter how hard she tried.

Did she want him to reciprocate? Of course. But more than anything, she wanted him to know that she cared for him; that he wasn’t alone. His mother may have been long gone, but that didn’t mean he would never be nurtured and loved again. He was more than a title, and an image that he projected with both literal and figurative armor.

She didn’t see him only as a devastatingly handsome prince with serious responsibilities—she saw the human being he really was, underneath the regal attire and the confident gait. She saw a sensitive man with demons. Battle scars. A man who drowned himself in busyness to avoid conquering his fears and feeling weak. He hid his pain from others; but she saw through his guard like the clearest goblet of water.

Unless I’m only seeing what I want to see, she admonished herself. Perhaps I’m inventing an identity for him, and I don’t know him as well as I feel I do. If he does struggle with bonding, I can’t be the only one who notices. So it’s more likely that I’m just delusional. How could he so successfully be coming into his own as a young prince, if he really doesn’t know how to connect with people?

He had visited several times over the past three years. While he had never stayed long enough for them to begin a proper courtship, their rapport was strong. Their chemistry was magnetic. Their connection was beyond the scope of language. It could not be faked. And anyway, he’d promised that he wasn’t pretending to care for her, or visiting her out of pity—if he didn’t enjoy her presence, he would not speak to her. He would not make the time to come and see her whenever he could.

But he still was not making any concrete assertions of his feelings. They were still dancing in circles around each other.

She decided that she had waited long enough. And so, after three years of trying to reason her way out of her conundrum, it was time for a more potent course of action.

The princess was very wary of magic, given the way her stepmother wielded it like a weapon, but the girl was desperate. Her heart hammered as she crossed over the castle moat and into the forest on wobbly legs—which felt more and more like lead, as she approached her destination:

The wishing well.

Snow White knelt before the fount, preparing to sing her heart’s deepest desire over the crystal clear water. A sparrow perched on her shoulder, three mice sat on the lip of the well, and a family of deer watched expectantly—she’d just explained to them that if the wish echoed, it would soon come true.

She had been delaying this moment, afraid of an upsetting outcome, but she could put it off no longer. She had arrived at the point where a devastating revelation would hurt less than remaining in limbo. She burned with the need for the truth. Her mouth slowly opened, feeling much drier than usual, but she needed to sing. She needed answers. She couldn’t turn back now.

“I’m wishing...”

Chapter Text

“I’m wishing...”

(I’m wishing...)

“For the one I love to find me...”

(To find me...)

“Today!”

(Today!)  

“I’m hoping...”

(I’m hoping...)

“And I’m dreaming of the nice things...”

(The nice things...)

“He’ll say!”

(He’ll say!)

Snow White’s dulcet tones rang out from inside the well, and it was all the princess could do to avoid bursting into tears of joy. She added a few more wishes, pertaining to a stable and lifelong relationship with Prince Florian. The well continued to answer in a lilting echo.

Her love with Florian was real! She wasn’t crazy! She wasn’t projecting fantasies onto him; she really WAS seeing him clearly! They really WERE meant to be!

The birds chirped. The mice excitedly scuttled around the rim of the well. The deer nuzzled the princess. Snow White giggled as a baby bird hopped onto her shoulder, and then into her hair, and then onto her other shoulder, jumping about in the most adorable manner. She stroked her tiny friend as one of the mice crawled up and landed on her free shoulder. Everyone wanted to be close to the girl’s infectious laughter. Space was limited!

Standing up, the princess raised her skirt and began twirling around. It was hard to feel beautiful in ratty rags and clunky clogs; but she felt like the luckiest goddess, soon to be draped in luxurious cloths and treated to a hearty meal.

She completed the rest of her daily chores much faster than usual, wiping happy tears from her eyes as much as she wiped dust from the furniture. She felt lighter on her feet. The air tasted sweeter. Her heart fluttered.

Though she took pride in her work, seeing it as a mark of her integrity and reliability, she couldn’t deny the appeal of living in more homey conditions. She wouldn’t have to be a maid for much longer, anyway. She couldn’t help but dream of the future—when would Florian confess his feelings? When would he propose? When would they marry? How many children would they have?

She might be getting ahead of herself, but how could she not? What else did she have to think about, as her escape from servitude to Grimhilde? She could sing frequently, but her voice did need a rest after a while.

And it had been quite a long day. The sun was going to set very soon. Snow White had stopped singing a few hours ago, after her voice had begun to tire—she’d thought her steady crooning would draw her beloved closer to the castle, to claim her at last.

But nothing had happened. Once she’d left the wishing well and returned to her chores, no musical tunes had followed her.

Where was Florian?

The wishing well was foolproof; everyone knew that. She’d secretly watched other people use it—and when their voices had echoed, their wishes had come true shortly thereafter. So why wasn’t it working for her?

A heavy, leaden feeling sunk down onto her, causing the blood to flee from her face and arms. There was another possibility she had not considered: malicious interference.

Queen Grimhilde was nothing if not conniving and cruel. Given the woman’s skill in the magical arts, perhaps she had bewitched the wishing well, after having somehow predicted that Snow White would be using it this night. Though the princess had not voiced her plans aloud—not even to the wildlife—maybe she was more predictable than she wanted to believe, and her stepmother had anticipated her movements. Could Grimhilde have cast a spell to make the wishing well echo, no matter what? Or maybe she’d put a spell on Snow White herself, to give her auditory hallucinations. The animals didn’t know any better; they could only feel her emotions and her energy. They wouldn’t be able to tell her if the well really had echoed, and thus signified that her wishes were going to come true.

But maybe she was just being paranoid. She could communicate with animals well enough, despite their inability to speak English. And besides, one of the things she loved about animals was how intuitive they were. Their instincts were often sharper than humans’—so if the well had been tampered with, they likely would have recoiled from it. They would have been crying out warnings before Snow White had even arrived there.

Yes, she probably was just being paranoid. Probably. She had no proof, one way or another.

Was it simply not the right time yet? Were Snow White and Florian meant to get together later in life? Had she not used the wishing well properly, and Florian was only a flighty young man who was toying with her? Was she just telling herself what she wanted to hear? She was young, after all, and she knew that youth and naïveté went hand-in-hand. Maybe she was not as smart as she wanted to believe. Perhaps her paranoia was not entirely unfounded.

She had considered using the wishing well for months before she’d actually done it. And while she’d been too afraid to discuss the magical object with Florian—not wanting to scare him off—she had often tried to broach the subject of attempting a proper courtship. Somehow, there had always been something in the way of their having that important conversation.

He had never told her, but she’d deduced at least part of the truth: he feared Grimhilde. He covered his terror with excuses—he was too busy being trained to become a king. He’d just had a long rehearsal with his voice coach, and he was too tired and stressed out for such an emotional discussion. He had begun writing a new song to perform for his father’s court, and he was under a strict deadline, so he couldn’t stay long. He also didn’t want to stir up any problems between his kingdom and Grimhilde’s, which could threaten everyone’s safety.

These rationalizations had sounded reasonable, yet feeble at the same time. Snow White had even told him so, on occasion. She’d never outright called him a coward, but she did declare that his words and actions did not match. In those moments, he would offer a shallow half-apology, admit to feeling guilty, and then tell her that she was much stronger than he—and then he would disappear again. With no indication of when he would visit next. It tore her heart to shreds, and caused her many sleepless nights.

“Don’t even bother trying to catch a young man’s eye,” Grimhilde had warned her not too long ago. She had recently turned eighteen, and the Queen had felt the need to discuss the facts of life in the most brash way possible. “They’ll only pay attention to you because of your looks—which will fade soon, given how hard you must work to earn your keep. Don’t get your hopes up, girl. Men will only value your appearance; you have nothing else to offer.”

“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” Snow White sighed. “Please forgive me if I gave the impression of having...inappropriate desires.” Her face cooled and her body went rigid, as she fretted that her stepmother may have discovered her clandestine meetings with Florian.

“Inappropriate?” Grimhilde scoffed. “It’s boys and men who are inappropriate, child. They reduce themselves to dogs in heat, the instant they catch sight of a female. Don’t believe any male-bodied creature who tells you he values you as an individual. He won’t. God knows your father didn’t seem to care for much more than—well, you know. I can’t say I miss him too much. Relying on myself has always gotten me farther than anything.”

Snow White emitted a soft moan of relief, but disguised it as a whimper of disappointment. The Queen, being as angry and vengeful as she was, would have given away some hint of displeasure, had she known about the prince’s visits. Clearly, the woman remained ignorant.

Relieved that her secret was safe, the princess began to think more clearly again, and she pondered her stepmother’s words. She often wondered if, despite Grimhilde’s cruelty, the woman might have a point. Florian had been madly infatuated with Snow White’s beauty and lilting soprano upon first glance, and engaged with her good humor; but he always balked at the first whiff of her desire for commitment. Was it really his princely duties standing in the way, or his fear of Grimhilde? Or something else?

Unless Snow White’s mind was playing tricks on her, Florian seemed intimidated by her. While her striking beauty stunned him and drew him in, he was ill-prepared for her sassy quips about his duties—and her yearning to get to know him better through more meaningful conversation. He could wax poetic all day, about the melodiousness of her voice and her hypnotic gaze; but he was loath to talk about his feelings or desires beyond superficial topics.

However, given Snow White’s excursion to the wishing well, maybe that was about to change. She hummed a simple tune to herself as she finished washing her stepmother’s clothes and traipsed back to the castle.

Careful to leave the clothes hanging just so, on the clothesline outside the front gate, she bade the animals farewell for the day. Suppertime was approaching, as she explained to them each afternoon, doling out as many hugs and kisses and scritch-scratches as she could, before walking inside to prepare the evening meal. The last thing she wanted was for her friends to ever worry that she was abandoning them. She wasn’t sure how they understood her words, but she was grateful for the mystical connection nonetheless.

Was her connection with Florian mystical? It often seemed like it. In spite of the discouraging events happening in the physical world, Snow White could not shake the feeling that there was more to their rapport than a stereotypical young man who only wanted one thing from a young woman. No matter how many times she told herself that he didn’t truly care about her, the niggling in her gut would not abate. The way Florian looked at her spoke of sincerity and a deep desire to connect—and an intense struggle to do so. No matter how many times she pushed him to open up, and he ran away, he always came back. Of his own accord. And her animal friends adored him. Animals had a sixth sense about people; and so if he were toxic, they would not excitedly rush over to him every time he arrived. Sometimes, the princess wondered if the little birds and mice were happier to see Florian than she was!

That kind of connection could not be fabricated.

And yet.

How had they been going round in circles for three years? No honest confessions. No kisses. No promises of anything, beyond talk of another visit at some undetermined point in the future. They’d never even held hands.

It made no sense. Why was he so indecisive? He could crush her in a fierce embrace and press his lips to the top of her head, but he would pull away whenever she hinted that she wanted more.

At the same time, she worried that she may be putting him off; that she was coming on too strong. She always hugged him sooo tightly when he arrived and before he departed—if she were stronger, her grip would rival his. And she couldn’t take her eyes off him, as long as he was in her presence. She felt like she was drinking him in. Worshipping him, almost. There were moments when she could hardly think straight around him, because of how beautiful he was. Did her behavior make him uncomfortable? Was that why he maintained emotional distance between them?

Or maybe, she had actually gone too much the other way, by not being clear enough about what she wanted. Florian was a bit shy, and sometimes socially awkward. If a conversation got too heavy for his liking, he would avoid eye contact and stop speaking for a moment, or even walk off a short distance for a brief spell. And then he’d either make up an excuse for why he needed to leave immediately, or he would shift on his feet and abruptly change the subject.

Having had very little experience socializing, herself, Snow White couldn’t do much to alleviate the tension when this happened. She could make a joke, or pull a silly face, but her humor didn’t always land quite right. She felt that she was making a fool of herself. To make matters worse, she interacted with other people far less than Florian did, so her social awkwardness was probably much more jarring than his.

It did seem likely that she was overwhelming him at times; her feelings for him were simply too strong to keep under wraps. She wore her heart on her sleeve. He did not. And if he would only pluck up the courage to be honest with her, she would know if her emotions really were too over the top, or if they matched his.

Was she a normal girl in love, or an obsessive nutter?

“Whatever will become of me?” Snow White asked the cracked mirror in her bedroom, speaking softly enough that the Queen could not overhear. “Will I ever escape? Will Florian ever come to rescue me? Was the wishing well functioning properly today?”

Of course the glass couldn’t respond. It was nothing like the Magic Mirror in Grimhilde’s lair. She never told the Queen that she knew of that Mirror’s existence. If she ever tried to use it, she knew she would be punished severely—but that was not a problem, since she had no interest in going near the object. It housed the face of a demon enslaved to the Queen. A dreadful thing.

The only reflective surface granted the princess was this old, tarnished glass propped up against the drab stone wall. It was an apt representation of Snow White’s internal state—which she found both unsettling and comforting. Chipped and jagged edges distorted her fair features and the rags adorning her slight figure. The princess knew she was beautiful, but it didn’t matter to her. All she wanted was freedom. Love. Safety. Kindness from the people around her; not only the animals.

Her brows knitted together as she caught sight of a peculiar scene in the glass: a dove on the balcony, frantically hopping about as if excited to deliver happy news. But what happy news could there possibly be?

Unless...

“Oh, fair maiden!” called a familiar male voice.

Heart hammering, Snow White whirled around and gathered her skirt to run to the balcony. The dove was still sitting there, but it flew down toward the ground upon seeing her. She followed its flight path, and the breath caught in her throat.

There was Florian! Out in the open! Not hidden in a patch of foliage. Not crouched down behind a rock, whispering for her to sneak over to him. He was in front of the castle itself! With no one guarding him! Oh, how her heart raced. Her cheeks flushed. Her palms began to sweat.

The wishing well was right! I asked for Florian to come for me today, and he did!

The prince looked as breathtaking as ever. His smile was wide, with his broad shoulders thrown back as he inclined his head to regard the princess. As they locked eyes, the dove flew back up to the balcony to land on Snow White’s hand. She kissed its beak and sent it back down to the ground, to deliver the kiss to her beloved.

Had he finally gathered the nerve to confess his feelings? Was he here to rescue her at last?

“I have something for you!” he announced. “Will you come down and join me?”

Chapter Text

He’s here! He’s really here! Snow White squealed inside her head. The wishing well was telling the truth! Oh, how could I have been so foolish as to doubt it. Of course the Queen couldn’t have tampered with it. Even HER magic must have its limits! Silly me.

The princess was so elated, she could hardly think. Relief flooded her small body and caused her to sway on her feet. Her cheeks grew hot. Her hands flew to her heart, which was fluttering wildly. She was going to meet her beloved out in the open, at last!

But oh—what the dickens was she wearing? How could she approach her handsome prince in front of the castle, wearing her usual rags? Yes, he had seen her in her dreary garb countless times over the years, but today felt like a special occasion. She needed to look more presentable.

She rummaged through the tiny chest of drawers in the corner, and carefully withdrew the one fine garment she’d been allowed—so long as she hardly ever wore it. She usually waited for Grimhilde’s permission to don the beautiful dress, but she felt especially daring today.

It was a miracle that she didn’t accidentally tear the fabric with her trembling hands, in her haste to change outfits. She stood before the cracked mirror, inspecting her appearance as best she could. She briefly worried that she was becoming as vain as her stepmother; but this was a momentous hour, right? A young princess had the right to want to look her best during such moments. She couldn’t even recall the last time she’d put so much thought into her visual presentation.

The bodice was dark blue, with a gold line going down the center, ending in a V-shape just below the waist. It hugged Snow White’s petite figure nicely. She considered this a marvel, due to the meager amount of food she was allotted. With Florian now here to take her away, she hoped to fill out the dress a little better within a few months. She had a petite build with very small breasts, but she wasn’t supposed to be quite so thin.

It was easy to forget about her meager rations while wearing this dress, however. It was just so beautiful. Snow White loved the light blue and red puffed sleeves, which accentuated her shoulders and made her arms seem a bit fuller. The high, off-white collar cupped the back of her hair—which she hastily combed through with her fingers, to tame the silky waves. She added a red bow, to offset her dark hair and match her sleeves.

The floor-length skirt was pale yellow. It looked lovely against her creamy white skin. She lifted the skirt while slipping her dainty feet into a pair of dark yellow slippers, and finally felt ready to face the man she loved. After stealing out of her bedroom, she began descending the long, winding staircase that led to the front door. Her dark red cape billowed behind her.

She wanted to run, but her legs felt too shaky. Hardly one for clumsiness, she steadied herself and held her head high—though her hands still gripped her skirt with quite a bit of force. And that grip only intensified as she saw the dashing young prince standing outside.

“Florian!” Snow White exclaimed. “What brings you here? You have never ventured anywhere near the castle! I thought you were too afraid of the Queen.”

The prince smiled sheepishly. “I was—I mean, I still am. But there’s something I need to share with you, and I’ve come to realize that it’s too important to keep to myself and let my fear rule over me. I’ve been thinking about telling you this for a long time.”

Snow White’s eyes widened. She felt short of breath. “What do you wish to tell me?” she asked softly.

“Well, first of all, you must know that I have always been taken with your kindness, your beauty, your singing voice, your humor...and your optimism. Given all that you have endured, I cannot help but marvel at your poise and grace. I think about you far more often than I would have anyone believe.”

Her breath hitched. Was he finally opening up to her? Did he love her? She wanted to ask, but dared not interrupt.

“I must admit,” he continued, “I’ve found that expressing myself through music has proven easier than doing so in conversation. I’m not sure I’m currently able to discuss...complicated feelings in ordinary discourse, but I’ve been experimenting with doing so through lyrics. And I—” He cleared his throat. “I have composed a song for you.”

“Really?”

Florian nodded.

“Does it have a title?”

“It’s called One Song. Because it’s...the one song I’ve written for you. And the—well, it’s the one song of its kind that I have ever composed.”

“Oh, that sounds sweet!”

“Would you allow me to sing this song for you?”

“Right here, you mean? Right now?”

“Yes.”

The princess nodded eagerly.

After a deep breath, Florian began to sing. “One song, I have but one song...one song, only for you....”

Snow White’s eyes welled up. She hastily wiped her tears, not wanting to distract Florian from his serenade. He had never sung for her before, not wanting to make too much noise and catch Grimhilde’s attention. He’d seemed more a timid boy than a self-assured man.

But now, standing before her was a confident prince, who was allowing his resonant baritone to reverberate freely. It had been several months since they’d last seen each other, and she couldn’t believe his transformation. The sincerity of his voice, the passion in his lyrics, and the loving expression on his face sent tremors through Snow White’s body. She hoped she wasn’t shaking too much, which she feared might distract him from his performance.

Thankfully, he did not break his rhythm.

“One heart tenderly beating, ever entreating, constant and true....”

Unshed tears blurred Snow White’s vision. She was grateful that Florian was singing, rather than trying to engage her in conversation, because she didn’t trust herself to speak eloquently. She didn’t trust herself to speak at all.

*   *   *

Unbeknownst to the princess, Grimhilde had watched Florian’s approach from a room nearby. And she was seething. Had the Mirror not revealed Snow White’s elevated status to Fairest One of All mere minutes earlier, she might not have been so angry. But this was simply too much. First, the little bitch had stolen her thunder...and now she’d gotten a prince to start drooling over her, at the foot of the Queen’s own castle?!

She regarded the young man smiling up at Snow White and kissing the bird that had just flown down to him, from her hand. What vomit-inducing rubbish. Especially since he really was...rather dashing.

Couldn’t he at least have had the decency to be ugly, so Snow White might not be interested in him? Or maybe he could have been an evil overlord from a nearby kingdom, here to snatch her up like a prize to be claimed, with zero regard for her feelings. No, no. He had to be mind-bogglingly handsome with a kind face, matching the princess in beauty and disposition. A nauseatingly perfect match, which Grimhilde would never allow to blossom. If she couldn’t have her own marriage, much less maintain her title of Fairest One of All, then her stepdaughter couldn’t have those delights, either. Things had gone far enough.

If Snow White can feel the joy I’ve been denied, then I’ll take it away from her, the Queen thought. I’ll have her heart ripped out. Literally.

*   *   *

“Your Highness!” proclaimed the huntsman, upon being summoned by Grimhilde. “You called for me?”

“Yes. I have a most urgent assignment for you. It cannot wait another minute.”

“Of course, your Majesty,” he replied, standing taller and trying not to display his anxiety. “What do you require of me?”

“Take Snow White far into the forest. Find some secluded place, where she can pick wildflowers.”

“Yes, your Majesty.” Where is she going with this? he wondered. This seems a most unusual request. It’s too tame.

“And then, my faithful huntsman, you will kill her!”

“But, your Majesty! The little princess!”

“SILENCE!” Grimhilde shot to her feet, and swiped her right arm through the air in front of the huntsman, as if to slice open the body of an enemy. “You know the penalty, if you fail!”

His shoulders sagged. “Yes, your Majesty.”

“But, to make doubly sure you do not fail, bring back her heart—in this.”

Grimhilde produced a bright red box. The huntsman accepted it with trembling hands. He bit back a shudder as he viewed the object, which seemed to have been crafted just for this gruesome purpose—its clasp took the shape of a golden heart with a long dagger ripping straight through its center.

The huntsman didn’t want to think about how or when the Queen had ordered the fabrication of this container. Despite its light weight, the box felt too heavy in his hands. He hated that he found the blue and green engravings so pretty...even though his mind had only registered this observation for a brief moment. Perhaps if he focused on that—the object itself, rather than its purpose—he would be able to shut down his emotions and do as he was told.

Grimhilde’s harsh voice brought the huntsman back to the present moment. “Can I trust you to complete this task?” she barked.

The huntsman shuddered, but promised to obey the Queen.

“Then go. She is currently being entertained outside our very front door, by a young man and one of those insipid birds that keep following her around. Get them both out of my sight. Immediately!”

*   *   *

The huntsman departed Grimhilde’s throne room with the sensation of lead in his chest. And his feet. He had to consciously force them to move. They were not being terribly cooperative this evening.

Left, right, left...right. Repeat. No hesitation. No turning back. There is no time. Left, right, left, right.

How was he supposed to murder a sweet, innocent girl who’d barely had a chance to live? She wasn’t even an adult yet. And she’d never hurt anyone in her life. She didn’t deserve this fate.

For the past several years, he had seen the way the Queen treated her stepdaughter, and it made his stomach churn. There was no reason for such abuse. Privately, he’d hoped that the Queen would die soon—so Snow White could ascend to the throne and begin a fulfilling life. He’d tried broaching the subject of the girl’s servitude with Grimhilde, on one of the numerous occasions he’d been forced to share her bedchamber since her husband’s death, but she’d threatened to disembowel him if he should ever try to save Snow White. He knew that that was also the fate that would befall him, if he failed to kill the princess this night.

He had no problem slitting the throat of a wild boar, or a deer, to keep the castle’s occupants fed. Their meat provided sustenance. In more primitive societies, animal pelts also became cloaks to keep everyone warm, and their bones made for useful tools. Those deaths all served a noble purpose.

But this?

There was nothing noble about carving out an eighteen-year-old girl’s heart, simply because she was more beautiful than her stepmother. The princess had committed no crime. She would sooner hurt herself than hurt another person—or an animal.

And it wasn’t as if Snow White was arrogant, flaunting her beauty before an aging woman to humiliate her. All the girl wanted was to feel peace and joy as much as she could, in spite of the terrible cards she’d been dealt. Good grief, her appearance was about the only thing that was actually working in her favor! Was it really that big a deal, that she was more attractive than Grimhilde? Had the princess not suffered enough?

As emotionless as the huntsman had to be, in order to perform his job, he wasn’t sure he could stomach his newest assignment. It was more repugnant than any previous task set to him. Perhaps he could view Snow White as a lost cause, in which case a quick death would be merciful—what princess wants to live as a scullery maid, with no freedom or autonomy? Yes, that mentality would work. More than likely.

He only hoped that he could complete this grisly act before his conscience had a chance to catch up with him.

Chapter Text

“One love that has possessed me, one love—”

“PRINCESS!” thundered a gruff voice. Snow White and Florian both jumped as the Queen’s huntsman barreled over to them. His eyes were blazing, and his lips were pressed into a firm line. Snow White knew that the man was rather quiet and standoffish, but she had never seen him look so...ruthless. What was on his mind?

“Snow White, I have been looking for you,” the huntsman said, before turning his icy glare on Florian. “YOU! Young man! Get off this property! You are not allowed on the premises, unless you wish to become a slave to the Queen!”

“No!” cried Snow White, her once-happy tears now turning to those of maddening fear and grief. “No, please, you don’t understand—”

“There is NOTHING to understand, princess!” the huntsman barked. “He is an intruder. You KNOW how we respond to intruders. If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll turn around now and never return!”

Snow White shuddered. What on Earth had gotten into this man?

To Florian’s credit, he had not moved a muscle. Perhaps the prince really was growing a backbone at last. Would he fight back?

“Get OUT, boy! I won’t tell you again!” The huntsman unsheathed his dagger and drew it down toward the prince—who moved to unsheathe a dagger of his own. But before he could parry, the huntsman reached out and twisted his arm. The dagger fell out of his hand. He yelped in pain.

“NO!!” screamed Snow White. “What are you doing to him?? He’s—”

A flurry of thrashing limbs moved across her field of vision, as each man vied for control. The huntsman kicked Florian in the shin, Florian swept his other leg out to trip up the huntsman, and both men tumbled. The ground trembled underneath Snow White’s feet.

“Stop, please!” yelled the frantic princess, now shaking violently as tears streamed down her face. The men were kicking and punching, and Florian was trying desperately to avoid the huntsman’s dagger. Snow White wanted to intervene, but she was paralyzed—if she got too close, one of the men could injure her by accident. She might even be stabbed. That would help no one. Pleading was all she could do.

The huntsman only fell back after stabbing Florian in the shin. The shrieking prince was now too wounded to be a threat.

Seemingly oblivious to Snow White’s screeches of terror, the huntsman hoisted Florian up and shoved him forward, toward the forest. “Heed my warning, lad!” he yelled. “Next time, my dagger will take your neck!”

Where is this monstrous behavior coming from? Snow White asked herself. What in the world has gotten into him?

Defeated, Florian turned and fled. He was limping, but still fleeing. He didn’t even look back when Snow White screamed again. He was abandoning her; presumably for good this time. The princess clutched her heart, which felt like it had a fish hook lodged inside. She couldn’t breathe.

A firm, calloused hand gripped her shoulder. She yelped.

“I apologize for that, princess,” the huntsman mumbled. “It’s the Queen’s orders that you stay away from that boy. He’s dangerous.”

“What? No, he’s not!”

“How do you know that? You just met him! Are you so naïve that you think all a boy has to do is sing you a song, and you feel safe with him?”

Snow White froze. She realized that if she defended Florian, she would reveal that she’d already gotten to know the prince...which would expose the fact that she’d secretly been meeting with him. That would put him—and her—in even more jeopardy.

“I—you’re right. I should have been more cautious. His song was just so beautiful, I couldn’t help but want to hear more of it. May I ask why my—why the Queen believes that he’s dangerous?”

“She wouldn’t tell me,” the huntsman snapped. “But I—” He seemed to think for a moment, unsure of what to do next.

“W—what is it?” Snow White asked, still trembling.

The huntsman nodded to himself and stood up straighter, now clear on his next course of action. “I cannot take you back to the castle in such a state. You can’t cook dinner; you’ll ruin the food and anger the Queen. Let us go into the forest for a little while. You can pick some wildflowers and...commune with nature, or whatever it is you do that makes animals follow you around. Once you’re calm again, and maybe even a bit cheerful, I will bring you back home.”

“I—”

“I’m doing you a favor, you know. Think of what the Queen would do if you burned her meal, or broke a plate.”

Despite the huntsman’s terrible behavior this evening, he did have a point. Snow White was in no shape to cook. Or clean. Or even look at her stepmother without breaking down sobbing again. The woman was the reason Florian had been forced to limp back to his kingdom with an injured leg. Who knew how much his laceration would worsen before he arrived home? And how long would it take to heal? She would likely never know.

“Girls make no sense,” grumbled the huntsman, as he grasped her forearm and pulled her into the forest—gently, but still with force. “A boy makes one romantic gesture to a young lady he just met, and she’s reduced to a blubbering mess. I’ll never understand it.”

Snow White didn’t want to admit how much that insult stung, but she couldn’t refute the huntsman’s words. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t privy to her history with Florian; she’d often wondered if she really was too much of a sap when it came to the prince. Perhaps the huntsman was right, and it would do her some good to focus on an activity that did not involve the young man. The wishing well had proven to be true, anyway—at least in part. Therefore, Snow White would more than likely see her beloved at a later date.

For the time being, she had to remain strong and focus on her personal responsibilities. And for whatever reason, her duties currently involved picking flowers. Hardly a reason to complain.

She sighed as the huntsman released her arm and plodded off to stand watch from a few meters away. She would never say so out loud, but she was immensely grateful for the distance between them. Why was his presence making her so anxious? She hoped the sickening feeling in her stomach was but a byproduct of the fight she’d just witnessed, since she’d never seen the huntsman act like that. His reaction to Florian had been so overblown!

Well, there’s no use dwelling on that, she chastised herself. The Queen will punish me if I’m not in the right frame of mind to cook. I guess I’d better focus on these flowers instead.

Against her better judgment, she found herself singing One Song as she glided around the woods, picking the prettiest flowers she could find. Would the huntsman see that as a sign of weakness? Perhaps—but perhaps not. It didn’t appear that he’d heard too much of Florian’s composition, and he probably didn’t remember any of it. When he’d confronted the couple, he’d seemed too singularly focused on getting Florian off the property. He had not been interested in memorizing the young man’s romantic overtures.

At least Snow White had the foresight to hum the melody alone, rather than singing the lyrics. She would keep the words in her mind...and in her heart.

Oh, how her heart ached. How had she and her love been forced to separate, again, just as he was beginning to confess his feelings for her? It felt like the universe was conspiring to keep them apart.

Snow White was not one for self-pity, outside of very brief moments. She prided herself on her strength, courage, and grit. If she could survive close to two decades in servitude, with a smile on her face anytime she left her bedroom, she could survive this. She may not currently be able to reunite with the man she loved, but she knew that her feelings for him would never fade. He would be her special secret until fate brought them together again. She sent up a prayer for his recovery, and his continued love for her, and returned her attention to the bouquet she was gathering.

A tiny squeak jolted her out of her thoughts—behind her was a baby bird, hopping around on a rock near some flowers. And it looked terrified. Snow White dropped her bouquet and rushed over to the distressed animal.

“Hello, there,” she greeted the bird, while kneeling down in the grass. She held out her hand, and the bird hopped onto her index finger. “What’s the matter? Where’s your mama and papa?”

Chirp chirp!  

“Why, I believe you’re lost!”

Chirp chirp chiiiirrrrpp!

“Oh, please don’t cry!”

It devastated her to see the sweet little bird in such anguish; and it was all she could do to not start crying herself, as tears fell from the bird’s eyes. That was the last thing she needed, after all the sobbing she’d done outside the castle. She stroked the poor creature’s soft little head, trying to comfort it. She had learned over the years that, when she was upset, a good way to cheer herself up was to help others. That usually took the form of assisting animals in need, rather than people, but the task was no less rewarding. And this tiny animal definitely needed some help.

“Come on, perk up!” she encouraged, gently nudging the baby bird under its beak. “Would you smile for me?”

The bird opened its beak slightly, and its eyes widened a bit.

“Ahh, that’s better!” she giggled—and how could she not, at seeing such a cute little smiling face? It was so precious. Baby animals always had been a soft spot of hers. “Your mama and papa can’t be far!”

Looking around, she saw two adult birds a few meters away, shuffling around their nest and chirping as they looked for their lost little one. Snow White surmised that the baby had fallen out of its nest, and couldn’t see its home over the big rock blocking its view of the tree. But the princess saw it just fine! Warmth bloomed in the girl’s chest.

“There they are!” she exclaimed. “Can you fly?”

The bird nodded.

Snow White kissed its face and said goodbye, as it flew back up into its parents’ nest. She was about to sigh in relief, when a dark shadow loomed.

She turned around and screamed at the sight before her: the huntsman, eyes flashing, with his dagger raised above his head and pointed at her heart. Her stomach turned to icy water. Her legs felt like jelly. She leaned back and covered her face with her arms, in an attempt to block out the horrifying look on the man’s face.

Oh no, this was a trap! No one can save me now! What a wretched way to go—

She blinked, and the scene changed. Was she dreaming, or was the huntsman really on his knees before her, clutching her skirt and weeping? She rubbed her eyes, not trusting what they showed her, but the image remained the same.

“I can’t! I can’t do it! Forgive me, I beg of your Highness! Forgive me!” cried the huntsman.

“I—I don’t understand!” protested Snow White as the shaking man struggled to his feet.

“She’s mad! Jealous! She’ll stop at nothing!”

“But—but who?”

“The Queen.”

“The Queen!!”

“She ordered me to bring her your heart! Now quick, child. Run! Run away. Hide! In the woods; anywhere! Never come back. Now go. GO!!”

Snow White sputtered, trying to form a response, but her thoughts were whirring too quickly. Her brain didn’t connect words the way it was supposed to do. It was as if she were spinning in a circle, yet trying to solidify the blurring images of the scenery before her—which only rendered her even more disoriented.

“Go! Go!!” the huntsman shrieked. “Run! RUN! Hide, anywhere! RUN!”

Snow White knew better than to question him. She ran.

Chapter Text

Snow White had never known terror quite like this. She had feared for her sanity while ruminating on her future with Florian, she had feared Queen Grimhilde’s beatings, and she had feared being denied one too many meals if the Queen deemed her cleaning less than perfect.

But she had never run through the forest at full speed, just as it was starting to get dark, with no idea of where she was headed. All she knew was that she could never go home again. Her stepmother wanted her dead. And she might even die out here, having no clue how to live in the woods. She would either run blindly until someone saved her—taking her far enough from the Queen that word would not reach the evil woman—or she would perish in a helpless heap on the forest floor.

At present, the latter seemed more likely. And it chilled her to the bone. She needed her wits about her, now more than ever before, but she had lost the ability to think rationally. All she was able to do was run. She felt like the terrified animals she sometimes had to comfort while she’d been working outside. They had come to her trembling and in tears, unable to think past their most basic instincts.

No one could comfort her. She was entirely on her own.

Her skirt caught on gnarly branches that jutted out and nearly tripped her up. Owls hooted inside the hollows of thick trees. In the dark, Snow White could see nothing of their bodies except their glowing eyes—which looked like they belonged to evil spirits instead of animals. These were not the kinds of birds who would rush to her aid, like those near the Queen’s castle. She felt even more fearful, simply from looking at them.

After running a jagged path for several minutes, she tripped on a root and tumbled down a small rock face, to land in an unglamorous heap. While amazed and relieved that nothing seemed broken, she was too shaken to move any further. She buried her head in her hands and sobbed.

*   *   *

The weary princess didn’t remember falling asleep. But when she opened her eyes, the sun had risen. Though she couldn’t see much through the thick foliage, her view was markedly clearer than the previous night. And her view included several animals sniffing at her. She recognized some of them from the wooded area around Grimhilde’s castle, but many faces were unfamiliar. Still, seeing them all gathered around her was a shock.

“Ohh!” she squealed.

The animals darted away, startled by the sound.

“Please don’t run away!” she called after them. “I won’t hurt you.”

The little critters gradually began peeking out from their hiding places.

“I’m awfully sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you—but you don’t know what I’ve been through. And all because I was afraid. I’m so ashamed of the fuss I’ve made.”

A few birds perched on a branch nearby, intent on hearing more of her tale.

“What do you do when things go wrong?” she asked them.

They responded in a beautiful three-part harmony.

“Oh! You sing a song!”

The princess began humming a simple tune that the birds could learn quickly, so as to accompany her. The baby bird—whom she recognized as the one she’d saved the previous day—flew down from the branch to perch on her finger. While keen on mirroring Snow White’s voice to perfection, he struggled to hit the high notes. His mother and father grimaced at the sound. The defiant baby glared at his parents, but his sneer turned into a mischievous grin, upon seeing the look of adoration on Snow White’s face. All bad feelings were forgotten.

Everyone continued singing...and even more animals began to flock to the scene, wanting to know what all the excitement was about. The young songstress was soon surrounded by birds of all kinds, with rabbits and chipmunks sitting in her lap, and deer clamoring around for cuddles and kisses.

Despite her confusion and lingering distress, a smile crept onto her red lips as she watched the way the animals came together. Whether they knew each other well or they’d just met, they formed a cohesive unit and found common ground to bond over. None of the animals judged each other, or questioned their merit based on their species or their abilities or their physical appearances.

Why couldn’t people be like that? Why did they have to reduce themselves to brawls and screaming matches and other forms of violence? What did it matter how attractive they were, or how much money they had? People were living beings. Life was precious. And so few humans seemed to understand that. They could take a lesson or two from these woodland creatures. It was no wonder that, despite the horrors she had just endured, Snow White told the animals that she was now feeling rather happy. The purity of the animals’ energy was so soothing.

“But I do need a place to sleep at night,” she confessed. “I can’t sleep on the ground, or in a tree. Maybe you know where I can stay—in the woods, somewhere?”

Many of the animals nodded enthusiastically.

Snow White got to her feet, all fear and sadness pushed to the back of her mind, to be dealt with later. “Will you take me there?”

A chorus of excited chirps and scratches and whistles greeted her as she approached. The animals didn’t criticize her tattered dress, or her bruised and scraped body. Two of the mice were even burrowing inside her hair, trying to work out the tangles! It was too adorable. And their little feet tickled her scalp. There was no way the princess could remain in a state of distress. Not while surrounded by so much cuteness.

As the birds gripped her cape to pull her forward, the larger animals nudged Snow White to walk along a barely-perceptible path. The trail became more clearly defined as she walked, and led to a charming little cottage nestled amongst the trees, a few meters away from a narrow stream. It was tucked away from civilization. A perfect place to take shelter. Queen Grimhilde would never find her here.

*   *   *

“Hello?” Snow White asked, while gingerly opening the front door. “May I come in?”

Receiving no answer, she slipped inside, while motioning for the animals to be quiet as they followed her. Everyone tiptoed through the entryway, noiseless as could be, until Snow White squealed. Terrified, the animals scampered back outside and hid—until they realized that the princess had squeaked in delight.

“What a cute little chair!” she exclaimed, plopping herself down on the tiny structure as she took in her surroundings.

The animals exchanged confused glances.

“Why, there are seven little chairs! Must be seven little children. And from the look of this table, seven untidy little children!”

The cottage may have been a safe haven from the Queen, but its owners needed to learn a thing or two about housekeeping. Dirty dishes and crumpled-up clothes were strewn everywhere, cobwebs adorned every shelf and corner, and not a single bed was made up properly. There was even a shoe inside a cooking pot! How could a mother allow her children to—

“Oh,” she gasped. “Maybe they have no mother.”

Two deer, a mother and fawn, shook their heads sadly.

“Then they’re orphans!”

The deer nodded.

“That’s too bad.”

The deer licked her fawn, who was about to start crying over the thought of losing her mother. No one, human or animal, liked the thought of being orphaned.

Snow White was horrified for a moment—before remembering that cleaning and caring for others were what she did best. And, to her delight, her animal companions were more than happy to help.

“We’ll clean the house and surprise them!” she declared. “Then, maybe they’ll let me stay.”

The animals gathered around, eager for their instructions.

“You wash the dishes,” she told the chipmunks. “You tidy up the room,” she instructed the rabbits. “You clean the fireplace,” she told another group of rabbits, birds, and chipmunks. “And I’ll work the broom!”

Creating rhymes had always helped improve her outlook when she was working for the Queen, and now she was going to use her skills for a more wholesome purpose. She couldn’t have been more delighted.

Under her firm, yet nurturing orders, everyone got to work. One of the birds even began singing, excited at the prospect of such valuable teamwork. Snow White found the melody rather catchy, and she composed some lyrics.

“Just whistle while you work...”

More singing from the birds.

“...And carefully together we can tidy up the place! Just hum a merry tune, hmm hmm hmm hmm hmm hmm, it won’t take long, when there’s a song, to help you set the pace!”

The animals were very inventive in their cleaning methods. The deer used their tails to dust the tops of chairs, the chipmunks carried large stacks of bowls across the kitchen, and the squirrels happily whipped their tails around with towels on the ends, to dry the wet plates. Snow White’s mood lightened even more as she observed everyone’s smiling faces.

What fun!

The squirrels enjoyed themselves the most. With their big, bushy tails, they could easily move large quantities of dust, detach spiderwebs, and dry plates at dizzying speeds. Wide grins split their faces as they marveled at their own progress. Who knew that shaking out their cobweb-filled tails in front of an open window could provide such entertainment?

Unfortunately, the cleaning expedition was not without pitfalls. Snow White had to scold two squirrels for trying to hide a pile of dust under the rug, rather than sweeping it out the front door. Upon being caught, the mischievous little creatures thought it would be all right to move the dirt into a hole in the wall—but they quickly got blasted by an angry mouse, who hadn’t fancied having its home disturbed. After recovering from the shock, the squirrels joined their friends in sweeping all the dirt outside.

The chipmunks were jealous of their bushy-tailed buddies for being able to work so rapidly. One very patient chipmunk attempted to remove a cobweb by delicately winding the silk thread into a ball of yarn. This worked beautifully, until so much thread had been gathered that the web’s creator came sliding down along the end. The spider yelled at the chipmunk for destroying its home—after which the poor creature scampered off in fright. No one liked spiders, it seemed.

Despite these little upsets, the group did succeed in tidying up the cottage. The birds even gathered some flowers, placed them in a vase near the open window, and dumped a soaked cloth over the vase to give the blooms some water.

It was time to wash the clothes, now that the house was clean. And the largest deer was none too pleased. Snow White deemed him a walking clothesline, and hummed happily while placing all manner of dirty, stinky items all over his body. Especially his antlers. Nevertheless, he did his best not to grumble. He waddled outside to the washing pool, where the racoons were enjoying having their chance to shine. With their tiny yet strong hands, they were adept at scrubbing the garments brought to them. And one chipmunk had the idea to use a turtle’s ridged belly as a washing board! The turtle roared with laughter, loving the exercise as much as his friend.

The birds hung the apparel on the clothesline to dry, Snow White finished sweeping outside the front door, and then everyone ventured upstairs to locate the bedroom. The princess was tired after such intense work. She never complained about doing chores, necessary as they were, but she did need to rest.

However, before she could retire, she found herself squealing at the adorable setup in the boudoir: seven little beds pushed together in small groups, with each owner’s name carved into the wooden frame. The princess giggled as she read each of the monikers aloud: Doc, Happy, Sneezy, Dopey, Grumpy, Bashful, and Sleepy.

“I’m a little sleepy myself,” she confessed with a yawn. Many of the animals jumped into the beds and began yawning as well. Everyone was exhausted.

She leaned back and allowed herself to fall across three of the beds that were placed together, and a few birds lifted up a sheet and draped it over her prone form. She closed her eyes with a satisfied smile on her face, knowing that she had just done a favor for seven very lonely children—whom she could not wait to meet.

How long had they been orphaned? Where were they now? Perhaps they attended a night school. If that were the case, then they should be home at any moment. Snow White hoped they would be agreeable to finding her sleeping in their home. Yes, she was technically an intruder; but she’d also tidied up their house better than they, themselves, had ever done. Surely, that gracious act would speak for itself and show these poor children that she meant no harm.

As a veritable orphan herself, Snow White deeply empathized with them. And she anticipated befriending them once she awakened. Perhaps, being on the cusp of adulthood, she could become a mother figure to them, and give them the love and care they were sorely lacking. She fell asleep imagining the ways she could guide these children, to help them learn to flourish and become independent.

*   *   *

Though hidden from Queen Grimhilde, the princess didn’t know that she was not as far from civilization as she believed. Someone had been watching her since she’d lost consciousness in the forest. And that person knew exactly where she now resided.

Chapter Text

Captain James Hook needed some time to think. The incompetence of his crew had just reached new levels, and he could not stand to even breathe the same air as those belligerent fools. Their shoddy navigation skills had nearly landed them off the coast of some enemy pirates’ den...and those bandits had once vowed to massacre all of Hook’s men if they should ever sail near their territory. James was so enraged, he would soon murder another of his subordinates—in addition to the one he’d just shot and killed for singing badly—if he didn’t immediately dock The Jolly Roger and stomp off into the forests of Neverland.

Thankfully, he knew the perfect place to go. And no one else was aware of its existence. One would think that a bunch of whiny children, forever stuck in their tiny bodies, would possess enough spunk and curiosity to have explored every corner of the island, but apparently not. James snickered at his good fortune, which he would never share with anyone. No one else deserved this knowledge. If someone were to discover his secret, he would use his hook to slit their throat.

Two years earlier, while spending some time alone in the wooded area behind Skull Rock, James had stumbled upon a curious bit of magic: a portal that led into a dense forest with no human occupants. It didn’t even look like a portal—it looked like a massive web constructed by a god among spiders. But after cutting his way through, James had traversed a few meters and noted that the web snapped back into place. It appeared to have never been disturbed. And the same thing happened when he retraced his steps a few hours later.

James didn’t understand the magic, but he sure appreciated it. And he had returned countless times since then. The force of the enchantment made him a bit dizzy as he cut through the silken strands; eventually, however, he grew accustomed to the strange sensation.

He hadn’t ventured too far into the forest to learn if anyone actually lived nearby; but in all the time he’d spent relaxing there, he had not come across a single person. And he liked it that way. The solitude granted him a reprieve from the screaming and stomping and raucous laughter aboard The Jolly Roger. And that fucking crocodile, of course.

He had also discovered an abandoned cottage deep in the woods. It had four rooms—a kitchen, bedroom, living room, and bathroom—and he claimed it posthaste. He then purchased a piano for the living room. While he already had one on The Jolly Roger, he wanted one for his home on land as well. It just so happened that one of his crew members had an acquaintance in Scotland, whom James had instructed to transport to Neverland on another ship, and then bring the instrument to James’s cottage. He watched with glee as the man set up the piano inside the house and ensured that everything was in working order.

And, because James didn’t want anyone else to know about the portal out of Neverland, he then ripped out the man’s jugular. When he returned to the ship alone, his crew did not ask questions.

He tended to this quaint little house when he needed time alone. He knew he could leave Mr. Smee in charge of his crew while he cooked himself a meal, sat on the front porch with a cigar, or played the piano with his nimble right hand. His hook would add a simple bass line—not as intricate as the ones he’d played before Peter Pan had cut off his hand and fed it to the crocodile, but it was better than nothing.

He’d never tell anyone, but he dreamed of the day when a singer could accompany him. A singer with actual talent, that is; not the cats’ chorus that sullied his ship. The cacophony made him want to tear his eardrums out. He often considered collecting himself a new crew, and only retrieving the old buccaneers after they’d received some proper vocal coaching. Butchering music should be a crime, he believed.

There were no shoddy singers in these parts. No one aboard The Jolly Roger knew about their captain’s cottage—not even Mr. Smee: the loyal first mate, who had rescued James years earlier, after finding him stranded at sea upon his failed theft of Pixie Hollow’s blue pixie dust. While of course he appreciated Mr. Smee’s kindness, and he trusted the man with much classified information, James needed to keep this one secret only for himself.

On this fine summer evening, James had fixed himself some venison for dinner, cut from a deer he had killed earlier in the month. His freezer was fully stocked, so no hunting would be required for quite some time. He decided to clear his head by taking an after-dinner walk through the forest, and then sleeping off whatever rage remained before returning to The Jolly Roger in the morning. He’d be better equipped to handle the problems aboard his ship after a good night’s sleep.

James always enjoyed the woods during the summer evenings. It was warm enough that he didn’t need his bright red jacket, but cool enough that he wouldn’t sweat after being outside for too long. The foliage was pretty. The trees were teeming with life, as were the rocks and grasses. And good God, how he loved stepping on those annoying bugs that got in his way. Especially if they crunched under his boots. That was something else he’d never tell his crew—lest they start addressing him as Captain Crunch. That would be even worse than being called a codfish. He’d never live that down.

Cringing at the thought of such a preposterous taunt, James stood up a bit straighter and moved with more purpose as he strode through the forest. He wasn’t expecting to meet anyone, but he always found himself needing to present a regal air everywhere he went.

Before he knew it, he’d walked much farther into the woods than he’d ever gone before. Despite having a keen sense of direction, after years spent commandeering a ship, he still registered that he was in unfamiliar territory. He paused, feeling slightly unsure of himself.

Should I continue? he thought. This is a rather charming area. Perhaps I’ll discover another portal—or another type of magic, the knowledge of which I can keep all to myself.

He walked another twenty paces or so, and stopped short. The sight before him stole his breath.

On the forest floor lay a sleeping girl. Her dress was torn, her pale face was scraped, and her small body was badly bruised—but she was nevertheless breathtaking. The most beautiful female specimen he had ever seen. He wanted nothing more than to throw her over his shoulder, carry her back to his cottage, and use his hook to rip off her dress. At the first flash of that mental image, his body gave a slight shudder. He swallowed hard.

Realizing that he might not be thinking clearly, he resolved to go back home and then return to this spot the following day, after which he would decide what to do. With any luck, the alluring little creature would still be there.

*   *   *

James didn’t sleep as well as he’d hoped he would. He tossed and turned, and awoke with a headache and an aching stiffness between his legs—which took longer to rub out than it normally did. And he still didn’t feel fully satisfied. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why.

He also rose earlier than usual, but there was no sense in lingering in bed. He had a job to do. Without even eating breakfast, he hurried off to the spot in the forest he’d found the night before. Thankfully, the sun was just beginning to emerge as he approached the area...and his heart leapt.

The girl was still there. She was still asleep.

But then, the most curious thing happened: over the next few minutes, various animals approached and gathered around the sleeping maiden. There were deer, squirrels, chipmunks, birds...and even a few mice. They nudged, poked, and tickled her with their various appendages, which slowly roused her from her slumber. As she came to, she looked at her bizarre entourage and squealed. The animals fled, but quickly returned as she apologized profusely for scaring them. Before long, she had most of them engaged in a beautiful melody she’d composed on the spot. And then she asked them to take her somewhere she could sleep at night.

Who in the world talks to animals like they’re people, and apologizes for hurting their feelings? James wondered. Who sings to them, and gets them to respond with a perfect harmony? Is it a spell? Is she a witch?

He’d never witnessed anything like this before. Against his better judgment, he allowed himself to grow more intrigued. Perhaps the girl really was a sorceress, and she had just enchanted him. Or maybe he was simply a man with intense curiosity about a member of the fairer sex.

Whether speaking or singing, the girl’s voice was uncommonly melodious; much higher in pitch than most young ladies’ tones. And he wanted to hear more. Singing, talking, squealing—God, he wanted to hear her squeal again. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Before he became aware of what he was doing, James was silently sauntering after this strange crew, down a path that led deeper into the woods. He remained at a safe-enough distance that even the animals would never suspect he was following them. They arrived at a quaint little cottage inside a grove, with all the nearby trees cut away. A stream flowed across the border of the property.

The house was smaller than his own. No smoke rose from the chimney, and no sounds came from inside. Was the cottage abandoned? Had someone else discovered the magic of the Neverland portal, and followed his example of building a secret bungalow here? If so, James may have to have a word with them. Though if the homeowner stayed out of his way, and possessed no knowledge of the portal, he’d leave them alone.

Probably.

Maybe.

As long as they didn’t try to keep him from his treasures.

There was nothing a pirate loved more than treasure—and this particular pirate now had his sights on a treasure that was cautiously walking up to a cottage door, glancing around, and then slipping inside.

He hovered on the outskirts of the property for a while, deliberating on what to do.

Animals soon began scurrying in and out of the house, dragging strange items with them—clothes? For children? And by God, were they washing the clothes? How was that possible? The girl was most definitely an enchantress, if she could get animals to behave like that. He needed to talk to her.

Should I go in? I could pose as the owner of this house, and tell the fair maiden that I plan to take her to my...second home. I could have her out of here in five minutes, and the actual homeowner wouldn’t even know that she’d been here.

But would she go willingly? He hadn’t eaten breakfast, so he probably lacked the stamina to drag a struggling girl back down the path. Especially if said girl were to be flanked by a gaggle of angry animals. Some of which had hooves.

Breakfast was a higher priority.

Now that he knew where the girl was stationed, he could return another time. After he’d taken a peek in through the window, of course.

He crept up to the cottage and peered inside. The girl was sprawled out across a bed—wait, was that...three tiny beds pushed together? Was this a hideout for those aggravating Lost Boys? They were another group of morons he wanted to kill. Maybe the opportunity would present itself. Sooner rather than later, James hoped.

Bewildered, he cocked his head to the side and observed the strange arrangement of furniture inside the cottage. Who in God’s name lived here? Why did they own such small furniture? Was this place run by a gang of child miscreants? How did they survive without an adult?

James decided not to concern himself with such minor details just yet. All he cared about was observing the sleeping form in front of him. She looked calmer now; more serene. She had a roof over her head and a mattress beneath her body.

And her body looked deliciously pliant.

She was probably in her late teens. Barely more than half his age. He didn’t care. He felt another swell of stiffness in between his legs, as he imagined joining her in bed and exploring her little body with his fingers and lips. And his hook would be there to remind her not to struggle.

How could he make his fantasy a reality? As charming as he could be, he knew he couldn’t just barge into the cottage and demand that the girl drop her undergarments. Outside of some rough bedroom play, he wasn’t looking for a mindless toy; he wanted to actually speak to this mesmerizing young lady. He wanted to learn about her—to find out what made her happy, outside of mice burrowing in her hair and deer nudging her pert arse along a path in the woods. He’d never seen anyone commune with animals, and then sleep draped across a group of tiny beds, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He was beyond intrigued; he was spellbound.

Who was this girl? Where had she come from? And how quickly could he make her acquaintance? He hoped he wouldn’t have to wait too long.

Now that he knew the girl’s residence, he would need to learn the habits she would develop while living there. When would she rest? When would she rise? How would she spend each day? When would she be at her most vulnerable? Would the homeowners stand guard around her if they sensed a disturbance on their property? James would likely need to return a few more times to figure all of that out; there was no way he’d strike gold on his first visit.

However, being a master strategist, he sensed that this sleuthing process wouldn’t take too long. He could keep The Jolly Roger docked in the meantime, as he usually did; his crew would never question his decisions. Those who had once done so were all dead. The remaining men knew who was in charge. Even with James absent from their vessel at times, they understood that Mr. Smee would relay all ship-wide events to their captain upon his return.

James turned around and trudged back to his cottage, pondering what he would tell Mr. Smee about his discovery. His first mate was also his best friend, and he found himself excitedly imagining the little man’s reaction. What would he say? Would he give advice? Would he show support? Would he offer to help James acquire the treasure that was sleeping in the strange house?

He barely tasted his breakfast of porridge and blueberries, which he would normally have enjoyed. His mind was on another meal he was desperate to indulge in—something that wouldn’t happen for at least a few days. The thought soured his mood. This was not the head space he wanted to be in before reboarding his ship.

Upon a brief return to his vessel, James was going to have a serious chat with his first mate. Mr. Smee would continue overseeing The Jolly Roger for a little while longer.

Chapter Text

Snow White groaned and stretched. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so deeply—and so comfortably. Her bed in Grimhilde’s castle had never felt this luxurious. She was so slow to return to consciousness, she barely registered that the blankets had been pulled off of her.

“Ohhh dear,” the princess moaned. “Now, where did the children—OHH!”

She squealed, upon seeing seven very grown-up faces staring at her. The residents were not children after all; merely little men!

All seven heads ducked.

Perhaps she should be more mindful about her squeals. They did seem to startle a lot of people.

A tense moment passed. And then, one by one, each head popped back up until seven large noses was resting on top of the bed frames. Snow White couldn’t help but giggle. She didn’t want to coo at them like children, given that they were fully grown, but they were just...so cute.

“How do you do?” she asked.

Silence. Suspicious glances. Raised eyebrows.

“I said, how do you do?”

“How do you do what?” barked one of the little men, who snarled and folded his arms.

“Oh, you can talk!” Snow White gasped. “I’m so glad. Now, don’t tell me who you are; let me guess!”

The dwarfs were so easy to read, it didn’t take long for the princess to name each one of them correctly. They all had a chuckle about Dopey’s inability to talk, Sneezy’s telltale hacking, and Bashful’s blushing.

But nothing compared to the laughter that erupted when Snow White’s sass emerged. “Ohhh,” she sighed, lowering her voice to mimic that of a man’s. “Youuu must be Grumpy!” She crossed her arms to emulate the dwarf in question. Doc poked him for emphasis, eliciting more mirth from the group. The grouchy little man was not entertained, but everyone else certainly was!

Once the laughter had died down, the dwarfs asked Snow White how she had happened upon their little cottage. She told them the gruesome tale, to a chorus of shouts and jeers, and then asked if they would allow her to stay. They readily agreed; their protective nature kicked in upon realizing how defenseless the princess truly was. They also marveled at her optimism and good humor, in the face of the atrocities committed against her.

If anyone deserved their hospitality, it was this sweet girl. Especially since she offered to do all of their housework as payment, while they went off to work in the mines—whether they were on the day shift or the night shift. Even Grumpy was onboard with the arrangement, though he would never admit it. Still, his comrades noted the change in his body language when Snow White went from joking about their names to revealing the Queen’s plot to have her killed. The dwarfs resolved, right then and there, to make her stay as safe and comfortable as possible. It was only fair, given all the work she was willing to do on their behalf.

*   *   *

Over the course of the day, Snow White began to settle in. The dwarfs provided her with needles and thread so she could repair her dress; they gave her privacy so she could bathe; and they even offered her some of their own clothes to be remade into a nightgown, so she could wash her dress every evening and have it be fresh and dry the following morning. They sang and danced together as they worked, marveling at Snow White’s ability to turn even the most mundane household chores into an exciting adventure. How had they ever existed without her? Life seemed so much brighter now.

And, for the first time ever, the dwarfs all went outside to wash their hands before eating supper. Their mouths watered as they smelled the delicious soup Snow White had cooked for them—but she wouldn’t allow them a single bite, unless they came to the table clean and presentable. The sulked about it at first, acting every bit the children their new housekeeper had initially believed them to be. But they soon conceded that the reward would be worth the hassle of freshening up. They marched outside to the washing pool, singing to themselves all the way.

The sumptuous, nutritious meal filled everyone with energy and good cheer, and so they skipped into the living room for a spot of revelry. While the dwarfs sang an adorable song, Dopey showcased his percussive abilities, Bashful played his accordion, Doc strummed his lyre, and and Grumpy played the organ. Snow White sat in a chair as she watched the spectacle, clapping along to the melody and grinning from ear to ear. At one point, she stood up and danced with Dopey, who had risen to her eyelevel by climbing atop Sneezy’s shoulders. Dopey really should have known better, though—after only two minutes, a colossal sneeze sent the hapless dwarf flying into the rafters. This mishap ended the song, but everyone was still shaking with laughter. A marvelous time was had by all.

After such an eventful evening, Snow White decided it was story time. The dwarfs excitedly gathered around her chair, intent on hearing every word of the riveting tale she’d promised them.

“Once, there was a princess,” she began.

“Was the princess...you?” asked Doc.

Snow White nodded. “And she fell in love!”

“Was it hard to do?” asked Sleepy, with a barely restrained yawn.

“It was very easy,” she chuckled. “Anyone could see that the prince was charming. The only one for me.”

“Was he strong and handsome?” Doc continued—feeling the need to illustrate those descriptors through interpretive dance.

More questions poured forth from the dwarfs, who were now on the edge of their seats. How did the prince behave? How often did he visit? Did he return Snow White’s love? Did he ask her to marry him?

She remained as cheerful as she could, while sharing the details of her not-quite-courtship with Prince Florian. Though the dwarfs did not like how flighty the prince had been, they whooped and cheered as Snow White told them about her excursion to the wishing well, which had put her years-long fear for her sanity to rest.

Until the tide had turned.

Dancing and applause deflated into grumbles, slackened jaws, and a few tears, when the princess revealed the aftermath of Florian’s daring trip to Grimhilde’s castle.

“The huntsman really stabbed Florian, just for tryin’ to talk to ya?!” bellowed Grumpy, who didn’t notice Happy and Bashful smirking at his outburst—the crotchety dwarf already loved Snow White. How were his feelings so obvious to everyone except himself?

As depressing as Snow White’s story had turned, Grumpy’s denial of his affection ironically made his companions feel a bit better...even when the offending dwarf stomped off into the corner to sulk, away from the group. His brief display of care had felt monumental to each person in the room. Why, if there was hope for Grumpy to soften, there could be hope for almost anyone!

“Do you know if your prince got his leg fixed up?” asked Happy.

“I hope so,” sighed the princess. “I don’t know when I’ll ever see him again. I miss him so. I do still have my fears about the wishing well, I must say—”

“Ohhh no, no, I’ll hear none of that!” exclaimed Doc. “If it works for everyone, then it most certainly works for you. Why would it not?”

“It’s just...you know, after so much time has gone by, and—”

“Have faith, dearie,” encouraged Happy.

Sneezy hacked his agreement.

“You’ll be so sweet together, I’m sure,” sighed Bashful, nervously twisting the ends of his beard as he blushed, imagining Florian coming to sweep Snow White off her feet.

The princess wiped away a few tears.

“Heyyy now,” said Doc. “Didn’t you just tell us that singing always makes you feel better?”

“Yes, of course!”

“Then how about you sing us a song, about Florian?”

“Oh, what a lovely idea. Hmm, let me think of something....”

“I’m sure it’ll be b-beautiful,” interjected Bashful, who was still sporting reddened cheeks. Happy tickled him on the top of his head, which only deepened the embarrassed dwarf’s flush.

“Yes! Let’s—ACHOO!—hear it!”

Snow White giggled, pondered the lyrics of her new song for a moment, and then began to sing: “Someday my prince will come, someday we’ll meet again, and away to his castle we’ll go....”

The dwarfs—except Grumpy—all sighed in contentment, reveling in their splendid luck of having come upon this sweet little songstress with such an otherworldly voice.

“We’ll be happy forever, I know....”

“Hah! Mush,” Grumpy groaned as he glared at Snow White.

She continued crooning anyway. “Someday when spring is here, we’ll find our love anew, and the birds will siiiiiing....”

Sleepy jumped at the trilling sound of that last high note, but then smiled because he simply loved Snow White’s voice so much.

“And wedding bells will ring, someday when my dreams come true....”

*   *   *

The dwarfs insisted that Snow White sleep in their beds, given that she couldn’t comfortably recline anywhere else. Though the princess was initially afraid to accept such a gracious offer—she, of all people, would never force others out of their own beds for the sake of her convenience—she conceded that they had a point. Their cottage was not structured to accommodate her. Still, she only allowed herself to get settled for the night after all the dwarfs had found cozy places to sleep.

A few of them got rather creative in this venture: Dopey slept on a bench in the fetal position, while Sleepy used his bum as a pillow. Happy slept in a cabinet. Bashful reclined inside a small chest.

“Bless the seven little men who have been so kind to me,” said Snow White, her hands clasped in prayer as she knelt by her bedside. “May Prince Florian get the help he needs to heal his leg. And...and may my dreams come true. Amen.”

She turned around to make sure the room was in order—and then realized she’d forgotten one detail. “Oh yes,” she added, resuming the praying position. “And please make Grumpy like me.”

The dwarf heard her, of course, and made a show of rolling his eyes while mumbling, “Heh! Women....” before throwing a spoon into the fire. He was curled up in a pot that hung from the mantle. “A fine kettle o’ fish!” he groused, and aggressively spat into the fireplace.

But he found his face softening a bit, as he observed his housemates in their unconventional sleeping positions. He did not see Snow White looking at him fondly when he turned over and faced away from everyone.

*   *   *

The next morning, after the dwarfs warned her to be wary of the Queen, Snow White saw them off to work in the fashion of a loving mother seeing her children off to school. As they marched outside in single file, they delighted in the way she kissed the tops of their heads when they’d removed their caps. Dopey liked the routine so much, he flew back inside the house and came out a second time, hoping for another kiss. And then another! Snow White indulged him on the second go-round, but then gently urged him out the door after his third attempt.

Grumpy was last. And not because he’d been running late. He’d been hovering in the back of the foyer, watching the scene with a glare—which, to his alarm, suddenly became a stare of curiosity. Before he realized what was happening, he was following an urge to quickly brush up his appearance in the mirror before presenting himself to the princess.

She thought she had sent them all off, until a loud cough sounded from behind her.

There stood Grumpy, cap in hand, looking up at her expectantly! The princess could hardly believe her eyes. One of her prayers had already been answered!

“Now, I’m warnin’ ye,” he barked, “don’t let nobody err nothin’ in the house!”

“Why, Grumpy!” she exclaimed. “You do care.”

Before the moody dwarf could scurry away, Snow White cupped his cheeks and placed a firm kiss atop his head. He pretended to struggle, but did nothing to actually attempt to rebuff the princess. Making sure to walk away with his customary stomp and scowl, he waited until he had arrived at the stream before permitting a small smile to take control of his facial muscles. He stole a glance over his shoulder, feeling a slight warming in his cheeks, and saw Snow White blowing him a kiss.

It was too much. The little man’s pride was egregiously wounded! He affixed his face with a snarl, which felt much more comfortable, and stormed off. And then he got his nose stuck in a tree trunk. He pulled himself out of said tree—only to trip and fall flat on his arse in the stream. And then, as he made to stand up, he banged his head on the underside of the bridge!

“Goodbye, Grumpy!” Snow White called after him.

He harrumphed in response. Her resulting giggle was infuriatingly adorable. But he’d never tell her that, of course.

*   *   *

It was easier for Snow White to complete the day’s chores after the dwarfs had left. She’d done the deep clean the day before, and so there wasn’t quite as much to do this time. In addition, now that she was settled in as a welcome resident—with no apprehension about who might be walking through the door in the evening—she no longer felt a sense of urgency as she worked. She hummed to herself, as always, and delighted in the help of her woodland friends.

Though a far cry from the life of a typical princess, Snow White realized that she could get used to this. While she still sorely missed Florian, and yearned for the day when he would find her again, she took comfort in her current position. The dwarfs appreciated her cooking and cleaning far more than Grimhilde had ever done, and they actually enjoyed her company. They thanked her for her kindness. They respected her. They treated her like a human being. It was a marvel.

These pleasant thoughts floated through her mind like puffy white clouds, as she laid down in her new bed for a late afternoon nap. Though she’d slept well the previous night, she had not fully recovered from the whirlwind of the past two days. Her entire life had been turned upside down. She needed to decompress. And so she drifted off as soon as her head hit the pillow.

She awoke to a blindfold covering her eyes, and a large hand slapped over her mouth.

Chapter Text

“Mirror mirror on the wall
Who NOW is the fairest one of all?”

Queen Grimhilde stood before the Mirror, holding the bloody box. It was hard not to shake with anticipation. She stood a bit taller than normal, having gleaned such morbid satisfaction from the huntsman’s kill. She finally held that little bitch’s heart and it was now shriveling away, like its infuriatingly annoying host—who would never be beautiful again. Corpses were always ugly. Thank goodness that deed was done and over with.

“Over the seven jeweled hills
Beyond the seventh fall
In the cottage of the seven dwarfs
Dwells Snow White: fairest one of all.”

Was the Mirror not working? Grimhilde needed to set the damn thing straight.

“Snow White is dead in the forest! The huntsman has brought me proof.” She opened the box to display its gruesome contents. “Behold: her heart!”

“Snow White still lives
The fairest in the land.
The heart of a pig
You hold in your hands.”

“THE HEART OF A PIG?!” bellowed Grimhilde. “Then I’ve been tricked!”

Without another word to the Mirror, she stormed down the spiral staircase into her dungeon, determined to take matters into her own hands. She was so angry, even the resident mice and rats fled upon hearing her approach. Every castle occupant, human or animal, knew the Queen’s temper. And in her current state, anyone standing in her way would not survive.

“The heart of a pig!” Grimhilde slammed the door and hurled the box to the ground. “The blundering fool! I’ll go, myself, to the dwarfs’ cottage...in a disguise so complete, no one will ever suspect!”

Rummaging through her books on magical disguises, she settled on that of a peddler; an ugly old hag. The polar opposite of her fiercely beautiful form. She felt even more determined than before, as she gathered the requisite ingredients and mixed them inside a goblet. How foolish she’d been, in trusting the huntsman to obey an order he clearly had not wanted to follow. She’d seen the reluctance on his face! Despite the man’s efficient brutality while hunting animals, he cared for people more than he wanted to admit. Especially pathetic, defenseless weaklings like Snow White.

The huntsman would have to pay the price for his betrayal. But first, the princess needed to die.

“Now,” Grimhilde whispered to the goblet, “begin thy magic spell.” She grimaced, gritted her teeth, and drank.

*   *   *

“Mr. Smee!” called Captain Hook, as he boarded the Jolly Roger. The rest of the crew was milling about, some on land and some on the ship. As acting captain in Hook’s absence, Mr. Smee had to remain onboard at all times.

“Aye aye, Cap’n!” he replied. The plump little man was standing on the deck, appraising the condition of the vessel.

“Any issues?”

“No, Captain. The ship’s lookin’ good. She just needs a fresh coat of paint, is all.”

“One of these fools will get to it today—as long as you supervise the job. I wouldn’t trust the lot of them otherwise.”

“Yes, Captain. We’ll make sure it’s done right.”

“Splendid! Now, come to my private quarters. We must have an important discussion.”

Mr. Smee wasn’t sure if this was a good thing. Knowing Captain Hook’s temper, an important discussion was either a serious talk between friends, or a plot to kill someone in traditional pirate fashion. And there was no way to tell which direction the conversation would take, before it started. In all the years Hook and Smee had been friends and shipmates, the latter still had not figured out how to discern any tells in the former’s tone or body language when he demanded a private audience. Though an intense and emotional man, Hook was chillingly adept at hiding his feelings when he really put his mind to it. Therefore, Smee thought it best to silently follow his captain and wait for whatever fate would befall him this afternoon.

While Captain Hook did like his first mate, he more heartily enjoyed the power he wielded over the smaller man. James was a ruthless captain first, and a friend second. And a scaredy-cat third, if a certain crocodile was nearby. But he’d never dare acknowledge this out loud.

“What’s the scoop, Captain?” asked Smee, once the door was closed.

“You will be acting captain of the Jolly Roger for an undetermined period of time. It could be several weeks.”

“A problem on the mainland?”

James laughed sardonically. “I’m not sure we need to go so far as to call it a problem, per se; but I will need to spend most of my time on solid ground for a long while. I have no idea when I’ll be able to reboard the ship, or for how long. I will only return intermittently.”

There were two reasons for his vagueness: to factor in all the variables of the girl’s capture, as well as to keep his crew on edge. If they never knew when their fearsome leader would be returning, they would look over their shoulders constantly—lest Hook catch them in the act of misbehaving or slacking on their duties. The penalty for either transgression was death.

Smee had always managed to avoid punishment. This was not only due to his friendship with the captain; it was more a curious twist of fate by which, any time Smee did something stupid and the captain tried to pummel him, Hook was always interrupted at the last second. Hook avoided dwelling on this bizarre phenomenon, not wishing to rile himself up. He had a hard enough time reining in his temper, as it was.

And with the exercise he was about to perform on the mainland, he needed to keep his wits about him. He inhaled slowly and relaxed his shoulders. His hand was no longer flexing; his hook no longer tapping an unconscious rhythm on his left knee.

Mr. Smee noticed this subtle shift in his captain’s demeanor, and ventured a chance at speaking less formally. “Look, James, I can tell something’s bothering you,” he offered. “Something big is happening, and you haven’t told any of us about it. I’m worried.”

“Why? Whatever are you worried about? Have you no faith in your captain?”

“You never leave the ship for more than a few days, here and there. And, if I may say so, you’re in one of those...moods.”

“Moods?!” barked James. “You’ll have to be more specific. I have a lot of those, as you know. It’s hard to keep a lid on them all, sometimes!”

Smee gave his friend a knowing look. “Sometimes? James, you’ve got that air where you can’t see anything in front of you except a single goal, which is taking up all the space in your head. And I’ve no idea what that goal is. It’s making me a wee bit anxious. Penny for your thoughts?”

Though he’d never say so, James appreciated Mr. Smee’s concern for his wellbeing. He didn’t like being called out on his moodiness, but at least his first mate was being respectful about it. Friend or not, bumbling fool or not, Smee was not dumb enough to insult his captain.

“There is...a rather rare bit of treasure on the mainland,” James answered, speaking slowly as he deliberated how much he wanted to reveal. He wasn’t comfortable outright declaring that he was infatuated, with the potential to fall in love; but he also needed to convey the gravity of the situation.

“Is it something we can help you find? Perhaps a few of us could accompany you—”

“NO!” James bellowed, while slamming his fist on his desk, causing the poor Smee to jump. He nearly fell out of his chair.

“I—I’m sorry, Captain. I was only trying to help.”

“This treasure is mine,” James growled. “Mine alone. No one can help me acquire it, and I will not share it with anyone.”

A horrifying image flashed across his mind, of his crew attempting to share his treasure. It made his blood boil and his stomach churn. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. His knuckles cracked as he flexed his fist.

“...But I do value your support,” he added, noting the terror on his first mate’s face. “Just—ah, just know that I would not be able to stand anyone else putting their grubby hands on it.”

It. Not “her.” It.

Was it a problem that he was referring to a human being as an object to be possessed? A prize to be claimed, with no autonomy? Especially since he wanted the girl to genuinely like him? Maybe. But he didn’t bloody well care. He was a pirate. This was what pirates did. Pirates thirsted for treasure. And not all treasure was cold and sparkly material that could be bartered with.

Anyway, the whole God-damned point of this discussion was to make Smee think that there was a tangible object at play, rather than a person. Best to use language that pirates understood, in order to keep the full truth to himself. His desire to possess the girl was already so strong, he couldn’t even stand to have his crew learn of her existence, much less that she would soon be in his arms. And it had been less than twenty-four hours since he’d first seen her.

What the hell had gotten into him? He never became attached to another person. All right, so Mr. Smee was his closest confidant. But the kindly little man had also rescued him when he was stranded at sea. That was a special case.

How could a man, who emotionlessly shot someone just for singing badly, feel such a hunger to possess another living being?

“What do you need from me, James?” asked Smee, his voice bringing the troubled captain back into the present moment.

“Act in my stead while I’m gone. And on the occasions when I do return, don’t ask too many questions. Perhaps you’ll understand one day; but not for a while. I must undertake this quest alone.”

“All right. I can do that.”

“Of course you can. That’s why you’re my first mate. Now, get back out there! Those idiots cannot handle one day without adult supervision.”

*   *   *

James wasn’t sure if he felt better or worse after confiding in Mr. Smee. He ate a quiet lunch aboard the Jolly Roger, lost in his thoughts, before wordlessly climbing back down to the mainland. His crew didn’t even know he’d left—and certainly not that he’d left with a blindfold, a gag, and two strips of rope in his coat.

As he slipped through the spiderweb portal and back to his cottage, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d revealed too much. Everyone knew the signs of a man in love, or in lust. A man so deeply entrenched in his desire for a woman, he thought he’d go mad without being able to touch her skin, inhale her scent, taste her lips, hear her cry out his name as her body convulsed in his arms. Was he too obvious?

He'd been careful to use object-specific language, rather than human-specific, but he feared that his emotions had given him away. As they often did. Sometimes he considered seriously trying to rein in his lightning-quick temper; while other times, he relished the thrill of keeping people on eggshells. Their fear intoxicated him. He could smell the emotion wafting off of their trembling bodies like ammonia; see their helplessness reflected in their wide eyes; feel their desperation to get back into his good graces, so he would be merciful with them.

He was about to indulge in another round of such dynamics. Patting the supplies in his coat, he walked briskly through the forest, toward the quaint little house he’d discovered the evening before. The late afternoon sun was hanging low in the sky, seeming to bear the weight of the emotions plaguing James and weighing down his body. More specifically, a certain area of his body. He wondered how soon the girl would feel that part of him pressed against her trembling form—with or without clothes.

Get a fucking grip on yourself! he yelled inside his head. You’re not just going to grab her and pin her against the wall; she’s got to be secured first. And you can’t think about securing a prisoner when your mind is already two hours ahead. Focus, James!

The walk felt longer this time, as anticipation built up inside him. He was moving noticeably faster than he’d done that morning, but time always slowed when he was impatient. Yes, he was impatient fairly often, but these were exigent circumstances.

At last, the strange little house came into view. James scanned the premises and detected no signs of life, apart from those damn animals that were perpetually attached to the girl.

The girl. Who was fast asleep. Watched over by some small woodland creatures, but otherwise completely defenseless. James could not believe his luck.

He took a deep breath, bit his bottom lip, and walked through the front door.

Chapter Text

Snow White screamed, but it came out a strangled wheeze. Swelling pressure crushed her chest, from all the air she could not expel. The fingers on her face were partially blocking oxygen from getting into her nose. Her head grew faint. Her heart felt like it was trying to escape from her chest. Cold sweat pooled in her armpits and along her hairline.

“Don’t struggle. That’ll only make things worse,” a male voice hissed in her ear.

The man’s harsh breathing scared the princess as much as his hand gripping her face. No one should possess that much strength in a single hand. No one should inspire this much fear, simply by breathing. Who was this monster? Had Grimhilde found her, and sent this man to capture her?

She wondered if being stabbed by the huntsman would’ve been a more merciful death—if the Queen was behind this attack, she was likely about to be tortured. The shaking, crying girl tried not to imagine what horrors awaited her, but her traitorous brain provided many visuals. Knives, whips, ropes, rabid beasts, and poisons were all involved. The Queen was a witch as much as she was a despot; she would stop at nothing to achieve her goals, no matter who she had to kill in the process.

Ropes were indeed part of the agenda. Snow White’s shriek was cut short as she was rolled over onto her stomach, with her face pressed into the pillow. Strong legs bracketed her hips. The moment she tried to lift her head up, a hand grabbed her hair and forced her back down. With her nose squished to the point of pain, and her mouth pressed too hard against the fabric, she was now in danger of suffocating. The lightness in her head increased. Her lungs burned. Something sharp dug into the left side of her neck—not enough to break the skin, but enough to send a message. And given how weak her limbs had grown from oxygen deprivation, she was in no position to fight back.

The hand released her hair and grabbed her right wrist, as the sharp object at her neck moved to her left wrist. It was a hook, she realized. Her captor deftly tied her wrists together, using both hand and hook, before moving to her ankles. Snow White wasn’t sure that such violence was necessary—she was now so terrified that she could hardly think, much less consider kicking or shouting. Tears seeped through the blindfold.

Once her ankles were bound, the man lifted her head up to place a gag in her mouth. Only then did he turn her back around. Though completely incapacitated, Snow White was relieved that she could at least breathe fully again, through her nose.

“Despite your current position, sweet girl, you need not fear me,” said the man. “Do as I say, without putting up a struggle, and no harm will befall you. Do you understand?”

Snow White nodded quickly.

“Good girl,” he purred, and kissed her cheek. He lingered there for a moment, brushing his nose against her skin and deeply inhaling her scent.

She shuddered. She had dreamed of Prince Florian performing such acts of affection; but coming from this man, it felt violating.

And yet being violated was better than being killed. The man had not drawn blood, broken her bones, or maimed her. He obviously wanted her alive.

Snow White counted her blessings. She resolved to figure everything out once she had an idea of this man’s intentions. No one would behave this way for no reason. And besides, everyone had at least some good in their hearts. Perhaps she could inspire her captor to acknowledge his own goodness, and release her?

“Now, listen very carefully,” the man ordered. “I’m going to take you home. And I will repeat: as long as you do not struggle, you will remain unharmed. I have many rewards in store for you, should you follow my instructions. Is that clear?”

The princess nodded again, more vigorously this time.

She was going home? Then yes, Grimhilde must have discovered her hiding place. She had enlisted this man to bring her back. But what rewards were waiting for her? No reward ever came her way, in or out of the castle. The only rewarding experiences she’d ever had were her interactions with animals, her clandestine meetings with Florian, and her stint at the wishing well.

Oh God, the wishing well. She was trying so, so hard not to think about that. Had it really worked for her? Maybe she’d be able to find out the truth, once this man brought her back to the castle. Maybe she’d find the answer in one of Grimhilde’s magic books. Maybe she’d even use that terrifying Magic Mirror. She could sneak into the Mirror’s room while the Queen slept. Was that one of the rewards her captor had been referring to—access to the Mirror, to give her proof about the wishing well’s accuracy? She knew the Mirror couldn’t lie.

In spite of her crippling fear, hope warmed her heart and spread to her bound limbs. She barely even felt it when the man hoisted her over his shoulder and carried her out of the dwarfs’ cottage.

*   *   *

James had to steel himself as he crossed the little stream and stepped into the forest. The girl was in his arms, as pliant as he’d imagined, and he’d had not one spot of difficulty in getting her out of the house. Oh, sure, he’d had to brush a few annoying birds and chipmunks out of the way—and that turtle had probably died after he’d kicked it so hard, it had landed on its back and cracked its shell—but other than that, this errand was going seamlessly. Life never worked out this well for him! Between the amputation of his left hand, the crocodile chasing The Jolly Roger to try and finish him off, and the incompetent crew he had to manage, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a moment’s peace.

Curiously, a lot of these woodland animals had followed him for a while, screeching and cawing and hissing as he carried the girl farther and farther away...but when he approached his own property, they began huddling together and crying, as if they were in pain. There must have been something about him that repelled these creatures, which was all the better for him. The last thing he needed was a furry, feathered mass of lunatics trying to take his prize away from him.

The closer he got to his house, the greater the distance he placed between the animals and himself. There was no way they would try to rescue the girl. He would make sure she knew this. She was all his.

*   *   *

“Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, it’s home from work we go!”

The seven dwarfs sang their customary song as they marched home from the mines. It had been a fantastically productive day, with enough jewels collected to buy themselves food for a solid month, as well as a few new sets of clothes. And with Snow White now their official housekeeper, they would purchase some new clothes and accessories for her as well. There would be enough provisions for everyone, and then some. Maybe they’d even give some food to Snow White’s animal friends—they spent so much time helping the princess, they deserved some goodies! They weren’t house pets, exactly; but the dwarfs were certain that the enthusiastic little creatures would love to take a break from hunting once in a while.

It would be a lovely arrangement all around.

They couldn’t wait to tell the princess about their plans when they returned home—and eat whatever delicious supper she had cooked for them. If it was anything like last night’s soup, they were in for a treat. Even Grumpy had cracked a few smiles that day, as the dwarfs had discussed the subject. All of their stomachs grumbled now, as they approached their front door.

The day before, they’d abruptly stopped singing upon returning home, as they realized that someone was inside their cottage. They’d thought it was a monster—a nightmarish creature so large, it had pushed three beds together to accommodate its size. How silly the dwarfs had felt, upon pulling back the blankets and discovering the intruder to be but a sweet princess in need of shelter! And today, they’d stopped singing on purpose; they figured the little songstress would be singing a song of her own, and they didn’t want to interrupt her. She had such a sweet voice.

“Snow White!” called Doc, as the dwarfs traipsed in through the front door.

No answer.

“Princess?” asked Happy.

Silence. Sprawling silence.

“Well, w-where is she?” stammered Bashful.

“Did she just up and leave?” growled Grumpy. “Did she deceive us? I told ye, females all got those wicked wiles! They can’t be trusted! She was bound to—”

“Grumpy, I don’t think she ran away,” said Doc, who had gone into the bedroom and found the beds unmade, with a rip in the sheets. And a few drops of blood. And a few very large shoeprints. They were much too large for Snow White’s dainty feet.

The other dwarfs raced upstairs—except Dopey, who tripped on the way up. They all groaned at his clumsiness, until they saw the object he’d stumbled over.

It was one of Snow White’s slippers.

“No, she didn’t run away,” Happy gasped. “She was taken!”

“The Queen found her, didn’t she,” wailed Sleepy, who was now too alarmed to be tired. “She wasn’t even safe for one whole day.”

The dwarfs sank to their knees and began to cry.

*   *   *

James kicked open his front door and carried his precious prize into the living room, where he carefully placed her in a chair.

“Stay still,” he whispered, before going back to lock the door. Despite the woodland animals’ refusal to come near his cottage, he didn’t want to take any chances. He double-checked the lock and made sure all the windows were closed, with the curtains drawn. Only then did he feel comfortable revealing himself to the little waif, and removing her bonds.

His heart pounded, and his arms quivered in anticipation, as he released the blindfold with a swipe of his hook. The girl gasped—a sound muffled by the gag, but audible enough to make his cock twitch. He was grateful that his jacket was covering his pants; he wasn’t ready for her to see that. She needed to relax around him first. That would take some time.

As long as he could restrain himself.

Her eyes. Oh, her eyes were mesmerizing. A deep, rich brown hue, covered by long and thick black eyelashes. Her delicately arched brows were raised up a bit, as the girl regarded him.

The gag came next. James slowly withdrew the cloth from her mouth, which had become soaked with saliva, and slipped his thumb underneath it. The girl trembled at the feel of his hook on her face, which he used to help his hand get the gag up over her head. Her lips quivered, but she did not speak a single word.

Nor did James. He was too entranced. He was unwrapping her like a present, and he wanted to savor the process.

Snow White couldn’t believe the care this man was taking, to free her from her restraints. She’d expected dangerous roughness, like his behavior inside the dwarfs’ cottage. She’d expected to see the eyes of a leviathan, more beast than man, regarding her with a crazed expression. She’d expected hands—well, one hand and one hook in place of a hand—being so forceful, they could crush her bones with no effort.

But this man was gazing at her like she was a beautiful work of art. A statue or painting to be studied intently...and respected. Or maybe a gourmet meal to be devoured. She had not felt respected while bound and gagged; but her current head space made it too difficult for her to analyze her captor’s behavior.

She was also confused about where they were. He’d claimed that he was taking her home, but this room was not part of the Queen’s castle. Perhaps this was a stop along the way? Did the man just need to rest his arms, after having carried her through the forest? Would he allow her to walk for the remainder of the journey, as long as she promised not to run away? She was too scared and confused to ask. All she could do was watch him kneel before her, as if praying at an altar, and work to free her hands. He was careful not to nick her with his hook; he only used it to tease out the knots in the rope.

After doing the same with her ankles, he chuckled while caressing her bare foot. She’d been so frightened, she hadn’t even realized that one of her slippers had fallen off in transit.

“You won’t be needing shoes,” he remarked, while removing her remaining slipper and setting it off to the side. After staring at her elegant little feet for a moment, he stood at his full height and gave her a wry grin. The hungry gleam in his eyes had intensified.

“Who are you?” she croaked.

“My crew addresses me as Captain Hook.” He waved his left arm for emphasis.

“Well, um—it’s...it’s a pleasure to meet you, Captain Hook,” stammered the princess, hoping that such polite language might soften him a bit. “How do you do?”

He chortled before bending over once more, this time to place a soft kiss on her hand. “Call me James.”

The warm lips on Snow White’s skin sent dark tendrils of dread up her arm to encase her body, preventing her from taking a full breath.

She couldn’t call him Captain Hook. And she certainly couldn’t call him James. She didn’t want to call him anything.

She said nothing.

Chapter Text

Black magic swirled around Grimhilde. The dungeon spun before her eyes. Her vision blurred. She struggled to remain upright, and even to breathe. Bubbles of sickly yellow and green, dark blue, and black wafted up from the empty goblet as it crashed to the floor. Grimhilde clawed at her throat and heaved.

“My hands!” she cried, watching the smooth skin become paper-thin and wrinkled, barely stretching over knuckles riddled with arthritis.

Waves of green gas effervesced all around the dungeon, and only settled when the Queen’s transformation was complete.

“My voice...my voice!” she cackled—first in alarm, and then in glee, as she realized that her spell had worked. “A perfect disguise!”

After consulting her books on the magical arts, Grimhilde decided to kill Snow White using a spell called The Sleeping Death, brought about through the consumption of a poisoned apple. The princess would not actually die; her breath would still and her blood would congeal, and so she would appear to be deceased. The dwarfs, being ignorant to the magic at work, would bury the princess alive. A fitting end! The perfect death for one so fair!

Trapped belowground, Snow White would have no hope of being roused by the only antidote: love’s first kiss. That stupid boy may have thought himself brave for crossing into Grimhilde’s domain...but he wasn’t bold enough to unearth a grave and kiss a corpse! Grimhilde guffawed at the mental image. The prince would never see Snow White again. And neither would anyone else, once the naïve, foolish girl had taken a bite from the poisoned apple. She would get what she deserved.

*   *   *

Armed with a basket of apples—the poisoned one on top—the crowing Queen-turned-hag hobbled out of her dungeon, passing a skeleton in one of the cages. She couldn’t remember who the bones had once belonged to; she threw so many prisoners down here, their names were lost to her by the time they perished. They hadn’t been important, anyway. What prisoner needed a name, when their fate was to rot away in a cell, forgotten by all? All right, so some people would mourn Grimhilde’s victims; but anyone who’d ever cared about the captives would eventually die as well. Then they would be forgotten, too.

Case in point: there was no reason to treat her detainees like people. To the Queen, they had never been fully human to begin with.

An empty pitcher stood by the skeleton, strategically placed millimeters out of reach. The skeleton was positioned with one arm outstretched; the prisoner had died while struggling to grab for the water, which had long since evaporated. Grimhilde forgot when she’d even placed the pitcher there.

“Thirsty?” she asked the skeleton, kicking the pitcher toward it. “Have a drink! Ha ha HAAAA!”

The arm bones scattered. A spider scuttled away.

Grimhilde rowed her boat out of the castle dungeons, to cross the moat. She was alarmed by how much exertion the simple task required, now that she inhabited the body of a feeble old woman. Only by reminding herself that this state was temporary, could she endure this gross humiliation.

The moat wasn’t too large, anyway. Once Grimhilde reached land, she grabbed her basket and began creeping through the forest, toward the seven dwarfs’ cottage. She bit her lip and groaned as her joints cracked and her knees wobbled, but determination spurred her on. Nothing would stop her from eliminating the princess and reclaiming her rightful title. She repeated it like a mantra as she walked—as quickly as her haggard body would allow.

Fairest...one...of all. Fairest...one...of all. Fairest...one...of all.

*   *   *

The hag sneered when she approached the dwarfs’ cottage. At last! The princess would finally meet her end. Grimhilde salivated at the thought of watching the girl’s body fall to the floor. Her knobby hand clutched the basket of apples. Her frail form quivered in anticipation. Though none of the fruits had fallen out, the hag still felt compelled to glance at them, to check that the poisoned one remained in place.

And then she frowned. Shouts were coming from inside the house. Cries. Grunts. Then came a series of loud thumps, as if someone had just fallen down a flight of stairs.

Something wasn’t right.

Grimhilde peered in through the window and saw nothing but typical domestic accoutrements: a table and chairs, cabinets, a fireplace, and some hooks for hanging coats. The scene appeared normal, save for the sound of loud crying that was coming from upstairs.

Where was the princess?

The only way to find out was to talk to the dwarfs. She knocked on the door.

After a few gasps and murmurs, the seven little men traipsed down the stairs to greet their visitor. Their eyes narrowed at the sight of her.

“And who might you be?” one bespectacled dwarf asked.

“I’m a peddler. I—I hope you can understand, my heart is not as strong as it once was, and I’ve not had much luck selling apples today.” She held up her basket with a forlorn look. “May I come inside for a drink of water? I could very much use some rest.” She coughed to accentuate her point, hoping that she was hiding her frustration well enough.

The dwarfs exchanged cursory glances.

“Did I come at a bad time? I heard some yelling and banging around in here. I thought I even heard a comment about someone being taken. Did one of your friends meet an unlucky end? If so, I’m dreadfully sorry. There are some questionable characters in these parts, and I hear about this sort of thing all the time. Best to keep your eyes pealed at all times!”

“What we do inside our house shouldn’t concern you, ma’am,” replied one dwarf.

“Indeed!” exclaimed another. “And if I may say so, you seem more interested in our personal business than in receiving a drink of water. You don’t look as out of breath as you did a moment ago.”

The hag glared at the aggravatingly observant dwarf, before softening her features. “That’s not a very—cough!—nice way to speak to an old woman, my lad. Perhaps I’m breathing easier because I stopped walking a moment ago; I’ve had a bit of time to catch my breath. But yes, I—cough!—would still like a drink of water, if you would be so kind.”

After a moment, one snarling dwarf marched outside, dragging a little chair behind him. He didn’t stop walking until he was a few feet behind the hag.

“Sit ‘er down there!” he barked. “No one or nothin’ is comin’ in the house, like I said this morning!”

He gestured to the chair, on which the hag reluctantly sat. She barely fit—her body had grown wider as well as shorter, which she resented fiercely—but at least this state was transitory, as she reminded herself for the umpteenth time. Still, it was rather inconvenient. She huffed while arranging herself in the chair as best she could.

“No peddlers ever come round here—ACHOO!” said another dwarf, before sneezing all over Grimhilde. She shrunk back.

“Don’t mind him,” added another little man, who was about as wide as he was tall. And his cheerfulness was offensive. It was virtually impossible for anyone to be so nauseatingly chipper—except Snow White. Speaking of which, how the hell was Grimhilde supposed to get the truth out of these morons? They already appeared suspicious of her. Goodness gracious, this was not how her day was supposed to go. It was hard for her not to pound her fist on her leg, or stamp her foot. She had to keep her cool.

Luckily, her body language conveyed pain, rather than murderous rage. While a few of the dwarfs stayed outside to watch her, one went inside to fetch her a goblet of water. She drank eagerly. It tasted much better than the foul potion she’d ingested half an hour earlier. So at least she’d been granted some relief.

“So, you sell apples?” grumbled the scowling dwarf. “What makes ‘em so extraordinary, eh? Why should we buy ‘em? Cancha just pick ‘em off a tree or something?”

“These are special apples, you silly little man. My—” She gasped, as the perfect plan formed in her conniving mind. She tried not to look too excited. “My friend’s stepdaughter is fond of crafting desserts, you see, and she discovered a way to coat the apples in rare sugars and other confectionary treats, to make them a perfect after-supper snack. She bakes them, and I sell them to the local townsfolk.”

“Your friend’s stepdaughter?” asked the bespectacled dwarf, cocking his head to the side.

“Yes,” she sighed. “The girl’s a poor, innocent little thing, and my friend doesn’t let her outside the house much because she’s too pretty. Doesn’t want her catching some young man’s attention before she’s old enough. Between you and me, my friend is a bit controlling. She wouldn’t like me revealing such information. She also doesn’t know that the girl ran away not too long ago. I’ve tried to keep this from her, but she’ll probably find out soon. I worry that—”

“Too pretty?” snapped the grouch. “How so? What’s she look like?”

“Short and slim. Very pale. Silky black hair, and ruby red lips. It’s no wonder my friend wants to keep her away from men. There’s not much of a bust on her, I’ll admit, but...well, you know. Men are not to be trusted around young ladies who are so fair! And I must confess—” Another perfunctory sigh. “She’s the other reason I’m trying to sell many apples today. Since she ran off, I’ve been telling everyone I see about her love of cooking these special apples,” she spat, glaring at the angry dwarf. “I hope that, if I find her, I can tempt her to come back home, with a reminder of the amazing desserts she loves to bake for us. Have you seen her, by any chance?”

“You have no idea where she...where she wen—ACHOO!”

“That is a rather rude habit!” snapped the hag, pointing her bony finger in his face and poking his big nose with her sharp fingernail. “Get a handkerchief, you sniveling imbecile!”

He winced and sidled a few meters away. One of his companions blushed from secondhand embarrassment. Another one glared at the hag, and appeared to be reaching for a tiny pickaxe. Perhaps Grimhilde had gone too far.

The rest of the dwarfs had now soured toward her even more, after witnessing her outburst against their comrade. Their frowns had deepened and most of them had clenched their grubby hands into fists. God, she wanted to smack the lot of them. No hygiene; no manners. They were a disgusting bunch. An affront to her sensibilities as a regal despot. So what if she was in disguise? They should have at least known better than to sneeze on her!

“You’d best leave at once!” ordered the one in glasses. “We haven’t seen any such girl. We keep to ourselves.”

“Doc’s right!” growled the angry one. “Get yerself off arr property now, or we’ll force yeh out. And take those damn apples with yeh. We don’t want ‘em.”

As furious as Grimhilde was, she could see that she would be putting herself in danger by remaining on the dwarfs’ doorstep. With one last scowl, she turned around and left.

*   *   *

If the hag were in her normal body, she would have been storming around and screaming herself hoarse. Those damn dwarfs had lied to her face! And even worse, Snow White had escaped!

But why? What were the dwarfs hiding? Had they sent her off somewhere? They’d been in distress when she’d found them, so something must have gone wrong. Had the princess run away? Had someone taken her? The Mirror had not warned her that this would happen! Had she really turned herself into an ugly old bag of bones for nothing?!

After returning to the castle, she would reverse the hag spell and have a serious conversation with her Mirror. She might even find a way to extricate the demon from inside the glass, and torture the creature until it died a slow and painful death. Things had gone far enough.

Chapter Text

It took Grimhilde two hours to reverse the spell. The potion required over an hour to brew...and the Queen was in such a fit of rage, she needed thirty minutes to compile all the ingredients. She had to venture back outside and harvest a few specific plant leaves—some of which were quite far from her apothecary in the dungeons. She was ready to rip someone’s head off. This was too much of a hassle.

Once returned to her true form, she stood before the Mirror—but not to ask her usual question. She already knew the answer to that query, and it aggrieved her to no end. This time, she needed to know why her day had gone to Hell and back again. She was not going to be calm and reserved about what had just happened.

“Mirror Mirror on the wall
Did you lie to me? What gall!”

The Mirror insisted that it had not lied—being enslaved to her in mind, body, and spirit, it was not capable of uttering falsehoods.

She was so angry that the Mirror could not show emotion; not even a drop of fear or remorse for having caused her such pain and humiliation. So what if its words had been true initially? It should have had the foresight to warn her that Snow White would not remain at the dwarfs’ cottage for more than one bloody day! She’d had to reduce herself to becoming an ugly old hag, hobbling about through the forest—and then twice getting sneezed on—only to be shooed off like a meddlesome fly! It was enough to make her want to burn the entire castle to the ground.

The Mirror told her of the conniving seafarer who had captured the princess, and where the man’s cottage stood. She would be there for quite some time, the Mirror said—but traveling there would mean certain death for the Queen; this Captain Hook was far stronger than Grimhilde. He would defeat her easily, even if she were to attack him with magic.

“How do I live with this?!” she thundered, no longer caring for the poetic verses with which she often addressed the demon in the glass. “If I can’t be the fairest one of all, I may as well die anyway! Nothing could be worse. NOTHING!”

The Mirror remained infuriatingly calm while answering her, as per usual. She nearly put her fist through the glass.

“People will wonder, people will sigh
Where does Snow White now reside?
She has disappeared from vistas large and small
Despite remaining the fairest one of all.

“The princess waits with stilted breath
While the captain pulls her to his chest.
Though he will try to win her heart
He may instead rip her mind apart.”

“What the bloody hell does that mean??” bellowed the enraged woman, her upper lip trembling. “Unless you’re telling me that he will take a knife to her skull and scatter her brains everywhere—in which case, he has my blessing—what the ever-loving FUCK is this nonsense you’re spewing?!”

The long and short of it was that Captain Hook was intent on making Snow White fall in love with him; however, in the absence of a healthy psychological makeup, he would only damage the princess—so much so, the stress could cause her heart to fail. Therefore, though Grimhilde would not be the one to kill Snow White, the princess may still perish at a young age. It wasn’t a guarantee, but it was highly likely. That was the best outcome Grimhilde could hope for, at this juncture.

But that didn’t mean she had to take it with a smile. Someone had to pay. Someone—other than herself—needed to be humiliated for this.

*   *   *

After riding him until he could barely move a muscle, Grimhilde extricated herself from the huntsman’s impressive girth and moved to get dressed. She used his cap to wipe his seed from her nether regions.

Her features bore no hint of the previous hour’s activities, while it took the huntsman a few more minutes to roll out of bed to get himself sorted out. She observed him in his post-orgasmic haze, hiding her contempt behind a mask of stoicism. Rather like the Mirror. Except that the Mirror had no other choice. Blast that thing; sometimes she wished she had the ability to level her moods to such a degree. But then again, without her rage, how could she inspire such terror in the masses? How else could she force them to do her bidding?

“Your Majesty,” the now-clothed huntsman sighed, while bowing his head in reverence. He may have flinched when she slapped his white-coated cap atop his head, but he knew better than to protest. If anyone asked, he would tell them it was bird poop.

“Come along,” she ordered, motioning for him to follow. “There’s something I’m going to show you.”

“Yes, your Majesty.”

The man followed her through the halls of the castle, into a room he had previously been barred from entering. His eyes darted around the small area, in awe of its opulence, which rivaled most other parts of the palace. Were there precious jewels in here? Was the Queen about to give him a prize for having executed his most ruthless kill to date? He was grateful to have thought to give her the pig’s heart; it appeared much like a human’s. And the pork chops the cook had made for supper that night had been delicious. It was a marvel that the Queen hadn’t suspected a thing.

Grimhilde jolted him back to the real world by walking up the six wide stairs in front of the far wall, and dramatically yanking a large cloth away from...a mirror.

A mirror?

What was so special about a mirror? Yes, it was rather fancy, but so was everything else in the castle. The huntsman couldn’t figure out what Grimhilde was getting at—until it hit him that the glass was solid black. He couldn’t see his reflection. He may as well have been staring into a deep hole in the ground.

A cold, shaky feeling began gnawing at his insides.

“Do you know what this is, my faithful huntsman? Have you ever seen anything like it before?”

“No, your Majesty.”

“I thought not.”

“What is it, my Queen?”

Granting him a tiny smile, she turned to the glass and spoke. “Slave in the Magic Mirror, come from the farthest space. Through winds of darkness I summon thee. Speak! Let me see thy face!”

Wind gusted from the Mirror into the room, startling the huntsman so much, he staggered backward. Grimhilde’s face remained impassive as her dress and cape billowed behind her. When the fierce gust died down, fire erupted inside the glass—and then burned out to reveal the most terrifying sight: a disembodied face with no eyes, head, or tongue, floating in the center of the black glass. It appeared a fluorescent mask, the forehead purple and the rest of it yellow-green. The eyeless sockets seemed to stare right through the huntsman. He shivered.

“What—what is that, your Majesty?!” he sputtered, as smoke billowed around the face. He knew magic existed, but this vile object was far outside his realm of understanding.

“A demon,” Grimhilde replied flatly. “I have enslaved it inside the Mirror, to give me all the answers I seek. It always speaks the truth.”

“What wouldst thou know, my Queen?” asked the demon, before the huntsman could respond. Not that he was capable of speech, now struck dumb and feeling as if his intestines were violently twisting around each other.

“Mirror Mirror on the wall
Repeat the truth to the one who must fall.”

“What—what is...what do you mean, your Majesty? What truth? Who is the one who must fall?” The huntsman’s heart was beating wildly now, and his palms were sweaty.

“Forgive him, Mirror. He doesn’t understand. Now, my dear huntsman, I just asked this Magic Mirror to relay the information it gave me after you returned with that heart. Mirror, reveal to him how I know all. Repeat those fateful words once more!”

“Snow White still lives
The fairest in the land.
The heart of a pig
You hold in your hands.”

The huntsman swayed on his feet. His head swam as he tried to make sense of this horrifying object, and how effortlessly it had damned him. His tongue felt like cotton. His knees quivered. His bladder released. And his mouth fell open when the dagger sliced across his throat.

*   *   *

Word quickly spread to the local villages about the head on the pike outside Queen Grimhilde’s castle. While the maniacal despot had performed similar acts before, to remind her subjects of what happened to traitors, this time was different: a dismembered penis was rammed into the man’s mouth, shriveled up like a leather glove that had been left out in the sun. A cap lay lopsided on his decapitated head, covered in white streaks.

The people told themselves it was bird poop.

*   *   *

“We have to search for Snow White!” exclaimed Doc. “There’s got to be a trail—whoever took her left footprints in our beds. There’s gotta be a trail outside.”

“Too right you are!” Happy agreed.

“I’m with ye!” growled Grumpy. “That peddler was the evil Queen, I tell ya! She musta been in disguise.”

Not one head shook in dissent. They had all heard of the terrifying powers of the wicked witch.

One by one, the dwarfs filed out of the house, pickaxes slung over their shoulders, to search for Snow White’s abductor. They were buoyed by the two sets of footprints, which extended for quite a long stretch into the forest—one set had belonged to the hag, but the other set had clearly been left by a man. If the dwarfs followed his trail for long enough, they would most assuredly arrive at...wherever he had taken the poor princess.

The hag’s footprints eventually split from the man’s—the latter of which had grown muddier, as the hag had stepped on part of his trail. The dwarfs tried their hardest to keep their swelling panic at bay; but they knew that every minute they searched ticked away another minute that Snow White was in danger. In captivity. She may have even been killed. The dwarfs’ hearts felt heavy in their chests as they considered that prospect. Why should a person like Snow White—so uncommonly kind and generous—be forced to suffer such a terrible fate, while her assailants had been allowed to live much longer lives? While overpowering innocent people, no less. It was so unfair.

The footprints grew more muddied. Most were now covered with too many leaves and twigs to form clear impressions; they were becoming harder and harder to distinguish. Upon approaching an abrupt end to the trail, the devastated dwarfs realized that it was time to head home. There was no hope of rescuing the princess. They had to force their leaden feet to carry them back to their cottage.

Bashful cradled Snow White’s slipper close to his chest as the others gathered around, all weeping openly. Even Grumpy. There was no sense in keeping up appearances anymore.

“W-what should we do with it?” asked Sleepy.

“We keep it,” Doc replied. “Should the princess ever return to us, or if we find out where she is, we can give it back to her.”

“I vote leaving it here,” said Happy. “It’ll be a reminder of the wonderful person who kept house for us, if only for a short while.”

“No!” Grumpy barked. “We keep it with us at all times. There’s no tellin’ if another thief will come and steal it!”

Without waiting for a response, he marched over to Bashful, snatched the slipper from his trembling hands, and placed it in his own knapsack.

The others exchanged shocked looks over Grumpy’s abrupt change of heart, but none of them felt the need to poke fun at him. Humor was not appropriate right now. As they trudged upstairs, wiping their eyes, they made a unanimous, unspoken decision: Grumpy would be the one to hold on to the memento of the princess they loved. Because he loved her most of all. That was why he had pushed back against her so forcefully at first. None of the other dwarfs’ hearts had needed softening as much as his. And so he, more than any of them, craved the physical reminder of her magical presence.

Their beds felt much too cold that night.

Chapter Text

“You have such a sweet voice,” Captain Hook murmured. “I will enjoy hearing it more often, as we get to know each other. And what is your name, my dear?”

Snow White didn’t know if it was easier or harder to interact with Captain Hook, knowing that he had a perfectly ordinary first name. Monsters shouldn’t have ordinary names. Deranged men who kidnapped princesses shouldn’t have ordinary names.

Thinking of him as Captain Hook allowed her to put some psychological distance between them—and to consider that he might not be human after all. Perhaps he was the kind of evil creature one heard about in storybooks, who had cast a spell to assume the appearance of a regular person. The kind of villain who would capture a young princess...before she would be rescued. If that were true, then her own rescue was imminent. It just had to be. Why would such concepts be so prominent in stories, if not based in fact?

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” she said. “You don’t know who I am? I thought—you said you were taking me home, but we don’t seem to be anywhere near the castle.”

“Castle? What castle?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I—I thought my stepmother, Queen Grimhilde, sent you to fetch me. I fled after—”

Captain Hook threw his head back and cackled. “Oh my god, you’re a princess! This is just too precious.”

Snow White gripped the edge of the chair hard enough to make her fingers cramp, but she did not feel the pain. Her confusion was now turning to icy dread. Who was this man, and what did he want with her?

She was not going home. She was not returning to the dwarfs’ cottage. And she certainly wasn’t going to get any answers about the wishing well. Whoever this man was, wherever he had come from, he had no connection to her kingdom. He didn’t know the first thing about her.

“Sweet princess,” he chuckled, his maniacal laughter now reduced to a more manageable level. “My apologies for the miscommunication. I simply saw you in the forest yesterday; and I was so intrigued by you, I couldn’t help but follow you and your woodland friends as you traveled to that little house. I knew I needed to make your acquaintance.”

She blinked.

“And what is your name? You still have not told me.”

“Snow White.”

“Snow...White,” he repeated, enunciating each letter as if he were savoring a scrumptious dessert. “An ethereal, enchanting name. Fitting, too, given the lovely pallor of your skin. And your lips are so red, they could be bleeding. But it’s a rather lovely look. Please don’t think I’m complaining.”

Her head was spinning now. This Captain Hook had restrained and kidnapped her, brought her to God-knows-where and looked at her like a goddess...and he was currently apologizing for the way he’d spoken to her? Was he mentally ill? Did he have a split personality?

Her bewilderment finally overrode her fear, which rendered her able to speak without prompting.

“Captain Hook, why am I here?”

“Call me James,” he reminded her, this time with a bit of a bite to his voice. It almost sounded like a warning.

Address me informally, or else! he seemed to imply. What kind of a person did that? Especially someone with authority. Snow White felt more confounded than ever. The frigid panic creeping through her body was ramping up.

“And why did you call this place home...James?” She really, really didn’t like using his first name.

“Because it is home. I live here—and now, so do you.”

Snow White’s blood ran cold.

“I’ve brought you here because I desire your company,” he continued, like it was a perfectly ordinary statement. “I want to get to know you. I want to spend time with you. And as long as you don’t try to leave, I’m sure you will come to enjoy my company as well.”

The horrified princess reflexively looked toward the windows, where she’d grown accustomed to seeing animals gathered to watch over her and offer assistance, if needed.

“What are you looking for? Are you already thinking about trying to leave? Crawl out of a window, will you?”

“I—I’m sorry, I was just...well, I always make friends with the local wildlife, and I was hoping that I could at least...interact with them sometimes, you know?”

Captain Hook sneered. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, princess, but your little entourage began slinking back into their hidey-holes as soon as we approached my cottage. They’re not coming anywhere near us. It’s just you and me from now on. No interruptions. That’s the way it should be.”

The truth was sinking in. Snow White’s animal friends would not—could not rescue her. They were just as scared of her captor as she was, if not more. She was entirely alone with Captain James Hook, who had forbidden her from leaving his property.

Not even her altercation with the huntsman had terrified her this deeply.

*   *   *

The next hour proved one of the most bizarre experiences of Snow White’s entire existence.

Sitting on the small sofa in Captain Hook’s living room, the befuddled princess answered an exhaustive list of questions about herself. Outside of her brief stint at the dwarfs’ cottage, this was the longest time anyone had ever paid attention to her, and spoke their intentions clearly. And while she had not enjoyed being captured, of course, a trace of warmth was blooming in her chest. Being treated as an equal—and a sought-after equal, at that—was a foreign concept. And yet she didn’t feel safe relaxing around Hook.

Having been forced to develop acute hypervigilance as a little girl, she was adept at keeping her cool under enormous pressure; especially when she felt threatened. This felt like an appropriate time to call upon that skill. She knew that if she answered Hook’s questions with calm politeness—and remained attentive to every word he spoke, so he wouldn’t think she was trying to ignore or disrespect him—she’d have a better shot at evading harm. Just like in her interactions with her stepmother.

It was oddly comforting when she realized that, in a way, her new circumstances were just business as usual. She could work with this. These social dynamics were familiar.

Maybe living with Captain Hook wouldn’t be so bad. Grimhilde had no idea where she was, and therefore couldn’t come after her. She was safer here.

“How did you begin communicating with animals?” Hook began. “That was what caught my attention. Such an intriguing ability.”

“It’s something I’ve just...always been able to do. They come to me for company; they shake their heads to signal yesand no when I speak to them; they sit with me when I’m crying and I need someone to cheer me up—”

“That will be my job, from this day forward.”

Snow White stared, wide-eyed.

“Anything you need, I shall give you. Conversation, hot meals, music—”

“Music??”

Her heart clenched as she thought of Florian’s rich baritone, and the love song he had composed for her. The ballad that had been cruelly cut short by the huntsman’s arrival. Oh, how she missed him.

“Ah, you enjoy music!” Hook’s face split into a wide grin that should have calmed the girl, since it showed that he was no longer feeling aggressive—but instead, the smile made her shift in her seat. She suddenly had a hard time sitting still. She could no longer make eye contact with Hook.

“What’s the problem?” he asked. “Your beautiful face brightened as soon as I mentioned music...but only for a moment. Now, you appear on the verge of tears! That won’t do. What terrible thought has crossed your mind?”

“I—well, if it’s all right with you, I would rather not talk about it.”

“Did someone turn you off to music?”

“Not exactly; no. I just have some...memories that I’m trying to forget.”

“Memories associated with music?”

“Yes.”

“These memories are causing you pain. More pain than pleasure. Am I understanding correctly?”

She nodded, fighting back tears.

“I will take full responsibility for rectifying this situation, sweet princess. I am a dedicated pianist—I even have a piano aboard my ship—and I will play for you whenever you wish.”

She nodded again.

“You know, when I first saw you communing with the animals in the forest, it struck me how effortlessly you could turn around a dour mood, simply by singing. I will have you sing for me, when you are ready. Surely, there are some musical numbers we both know, which will allow you to accompany me! I confess I have not attempted singing in quite some time, but perhaps I could hone the craft. We will sing together one day.”

This was not true. He sang all the time, and he had a marvelous voice. He just wanted Snow White to think that singing was something he didn’t enjoy as much as playing piano—but that he was willing to devote more time to the activity, for her sake. That would make her feel more valued; more like she had a higher purpose for remaining in his cottage. She loved to help people, and so she would help him regain his love of singing!

He was speaking more to himself than to her, she observed. And she sent up a silent prayer of thanks, because he was no longer scrutinizing her facial expression. A few traitorous tears had just fallen down her face as a heavy pain settled in her chest: the only man with whom she’d ever wanted to sing was Florian.

She squealed when cold fingers brushed the tears off her cheeks.

As the high-pitched tone escaped her throat, the captain’s gaze turned feral. His fingers pressed into her cheek with a bit more force, and he bit his lip hard, before slowly withdrawing his hand. She could tell he hadn’t wanted to do so.

“That won’t do,” Hook murmured, once he had collected himself. “I can’t have you lost in your dreadful recollections. It is a crime—” He stamped his foot. “—to turn someone off to music! My princess must not lose her love of the art.”

“My—your...I’m so sorry, but—what?”

“Ahh, you still don’t fully understand,” he chuckled darkly. “Perhaps I failed to convey this clearly. Allow me to try again: you live with me now, because you belong to me. You will not, and cannot, set one dainty little foot outside this cottage without me.”

“Why—may I ask w-why not?” Her lower lip quivered. Her eyes brimmed again.

“Because of the spikes.” He hissed that last word with such malice, Snow White gasped.

“What spikes, Cap—James?”

“Metal spikes, placed at various points in the grass, to deter predators—and also to save me time hunting for food. You recall me showing you, moments ago, that your animal friends refuse to step onto my property?”

Snow White stared, and then made a small noise in her throat, upon realizing that Hook expected a reaction.

“They likely sensed the danger. Either that, or other animals—who were not so lucky—told them about their unhappy fate. No animal can enter this property without sustaining some injury, if not dying from being impaled. And since you will be barefoot for the foreseeable future, one false step out this door could land you in grave danger. The spikes are green, to blend in with the grass. Only I know where they are, and thus I can easily avoid them.”

The princess inhaled sharply, but did not speak. She couldn’t think coherently anymore.

“Consider it an immense favor, that I am warning you ahead of time. I’m sure you were already planning to venture outside the first time I left you alone, in the hopes of sending word to those creatures you called housemates yesterday.”

She wheezed. She couldn’t help it. Hook ignored it.

“But no one is coming to save you. Anyone but me, who tries to come to my front door, will have at least one foot impaled. And should you ever try to escape, and you inevitably come to harm, I will withhold first-aid supplies as punishment. Stay inside at all times. Don’t even open the curtains without my permission.”

Snow White fainted.

*   *   *

James was lying. There were no spikes. And he was so bloody impressed with himself for having concocted such a brilliant tale, without any forethought! My, how perfectly the stars had aligned for him: Snow White had lost a shoe on her way here; her animal companions had hung back when they’d seen his cottage; and just now he’d received a burst of divine inspiration, to add the final layer to this mouthwatering cake that fate had offered him.

Oh, and now she had lost consciousness! Another stroke of luck. She was even more defenseless than she’d been before!

He stood over her for a moment, basking in the sight. Her small chest gently rose and fell as each quiet breath passed her parted lips.

God have mercy. Her lips. So red. So plump. So soft and smooth—he swiped the pad of his thumb across her mouth, and felt a small shudder rip through him. Her lips felt like velvet. He ached to kiss them, to watch them part as the princess emitted more of those delectable squeals. He wanted to feel those lips wrapped around his throbbing cock—

No. Not yet.

He reminded himself that she was supposed to enjoy being with him. The fear she now felt was a necessary first step, to keep her in line until she no longer wanted to leave; but he hadn’t brought her here to needlessly terrify her. The only terror he wanted to cause her was through the shock of how well he could deliver pleasure...and how he would not stop delivering it, even if she begged him to. He would decide when she’d had enough.

He wanted to know exactly how loudly she could scream and squeal and moan. If she could orgasm solely from the stimulation of her small breasts. How long he could spend licking her clitoris until it grew numb from overstimulation. How many times could she climax before her body gave out? How violently would she convulse in his arms?

You just told yourself “not yet,” you fool. Calm down. What the hell has gotten into you?!  

James bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. That was the only way he could stop the lascivious images from flashing through his mind. He could not afford to get ahead of himself. He needed to take this process one step at a time, no matter how long it took Snow White to graduate from one level to the next. He didn’t know when she would be ready for him to kiss her—much less fuck her—and based on her reactions so far, she would need quite a bit of buttering up.

Absent the restraints he’d applied to bring her here, she was feather-light in his strong arms. He groaned in anticipation as he reached under and around her, to pick her up. He couldn’t resist burying his face in her neck and inhaling—much more deeply than he’d done before. And he certainly couldn’t resist placing several hard kisses to the soft, creamy flesh, followed by a lavish lick. His knees nearly buckled as carnal need swelled inside him. Cradling the fragile girl close to his chest, he stood up and carried her to his bed.

*   *   *

Snow White awoke to a cool cloth on her forehead. She gasped and looked around frantically. Seeing Captain Hook sitting beside her on a large bed, she burst into tears.

Grimhilde’s voice echoed in her mind: It’s boys and men who are inappropriate, child. They reduce themselves to dogs in heat, the instant they catch sight of a female. Don’t believe any male-bodied creature who tells you he values you as an individual. He won’t.

Snow White understood that she was in Captain Hook’s bed. He was hovering over her, swinging one leg across her body as he laid down on top of her. She felt the stiffness in between his legs as he pressed his body against hers, pinning her beneath him while he stroked her face. The hunger in his eyes turned her insides to water.

She knew what would come next. She knew the word.

Rape.

Chapter Text

James had spent the past hour regarding his prize with a mixture of hunger and concern. Of course he’d wanted to rip her dress clean off and have his way with her. His filthy mind had been assaulting him with many vivid images, and he was amazed that he hadn’t lost control; he’d simply sat by the unconscious princess, waiting for her to awaken. (His self-restraint really was unparalleled. None of his crew could do this, if presented with a defenseless, gorgeous female specimen. Lying in bed. Asleep. He should receive some kind of award for this. How long had it been since he’d last availed himself of female flesh?)

But more importantly, he didn’t want Snow White to be in distress. She was supposed to relish spending time with him. Interacting with him. Living with him. She was supposed to understand that he wanted to take care of her.

He also didn’t want her to upset her circadian rhythm. A few more hours would pass before he’d be ready to retire for the evening, and he was getting restless. He hadn’t even eaten supper yet. And of course Snow White hadn’t, either. He needed to rouse her.

After fetching a cloth from the bathroom, he ran it under cool water and brought it back into the bedroom.

Kneeling next to the princess, and placing the compress on her fair skin, stirred up feelings inside him that he wasn’t sure he could name. All he knew was that those emotions both excited and frightened him. As he’d been reminding himself since he’d first laid eyes on the girl, it was not like him to become so heavily invested in another person’s wellbeing.

She started awake with a gasp, took one look at James, and began to cry. Normally, the terror of one of his prisoners would excite him. But Snow White was not a prisoner. She was a gift. She was a goddess. She was perfect. She was walking magic. And seeing her afraid lanced his heart.

All he wanted was to soothe her. Without thinking, he climbed atop her shaking form and cupped her face, careful to keep his hook out of the way. He trailed his fingers across her cheek, smoothed her hair, and gently rubbed her scalp. That only seemed to torment her further—or maybe that was the pulsing stiffness in between his legs. Her body quivered beneath him, and not the way he’d envisioned. This venture was not going according to plan.

“Shh,” he cooed, stroking her cheek. “It’s all right. You’re safe now.” She grimaced when he grazed the curve of his hook across her other cheek. After a rasping inhalation, the princess went rigid.

She was holding her breath.

“Oh goodness, I didn’t mean for you to stop breathing! I was merely trying to soothe you. Breathe slowly and deeply, and you’ll relax. Come now, try it with me.”

She followed his instruction, inhaling and exhaling with the precise concentration required to match his rhythm. After a few minutes, she was calm again—enough to linger in the hazy space between sleep and wakefulness. No longer struggling. No longer panicking. Much more composed. Much more docile.

Much more receptive to the power of suggestion.

“You’re safe,” James repeated. “You are exactly where you belong. No one can harm you here. I care for you—more than anyone else ever has. More than anyone else ever will. It can’t get any better than this.”

He continued murmuring the words he wanted—needed her to believe. He believed them, and so it was imperative that she did as well. Though she remained unresponsive, it was an improvement from her behavior in the living room. She was no longer resisting what was happening to her. This was good.

James climbed off of Snow White and caressed her silky hair. Again, she did not fight him. She didn’t even flinch.

“I’m going to cook dinner soon,” he told her in a more conversational tone, after getting up and moving to stand next to the bed. “I understand if you’d prefer to rest, but I would very much like you to join me in the kitchen. If you fall asleep too early, you’ll disrupt your body’s natural rhythms. I don’t want that.”

Snow White’s eyes flew open. No one had ever expressed concern for her wellbeing before. Not to this degree. Making sure she ate enough? Taking care to ensure that she maintained a proper sleep schedule? She was too stunned to compose a response, even inside her mind. She settled with a tiny grunt as she raised herself up on her elbows. Captain Hook placed his arm around her and gently guided her up to a sitting position.

Despite the horrors he had committed against her earlier in the day, she conceded that it was nice to be cared for. He was trying. He wasn’t interested in raping her. And it was clear that he desired her company far more than Florian had ever done.

The prince’s eyes had often lit up at the sight of her. He had hugged her, kissed her cheek, tickled her waist, and occasionally stroked her hair; but he had never done...this. He had never laid atop her and cupped her face in his hands, trying to soothe her when she felt panicked. He’d never brought her to his home. His social circle had no idea she even existed—God, how silly had she been, to think that he had loved her? The song he’d sung for her probably wasn’t even about her. It was likely about some other girl. Someone who lived in his kingdom. Someone more accomplished and respected. Someone much higher up in the kingdom’s hierarchy; not a mere maid. And he’d only sung the song for Snow White to try and assuage his guilt for not reciprocating her intense feelings.

He had never been straightforward with her in discussing his emotions, the way Hook was doing now.

Florian didn’t love me; he only felt sorry for me, she thought, as Hook helped her stand and then led her into the kitchen. He pulled out a chair and gestured for her to sit. The act of a gentleman. Someone who had gone out of his way to spend time with her.

Florian would never have seen her as an equal, worthy of his time regardless of how busy he was. He had been her highest priority; but he’d only ever made her an option.

Grimhilde had definitely tampered with the wishing well, just to torment her. There was no other explanation. And the best way to move past all of this was to accept her current position. The heaviness grew in her heart once again, as she felt another wave of longing for Florian, but she shoved it down. She was eighteen years old; not fourteen. She couldn’t afford to pine over an unrequited love, wallowing in self-pity while another man was actually paying attention to her.

A man who would harm her if she ever left him. Yes, he had a temper—but all she had to do was follow his rules and avoid angering him. It was safer and healthier for her to remain here, and to finally put in the necessary effort to get over Florian. She must not have been trying hard enough before.

The smell of venison and vegetables wafted through the air, causing Snow White to smile just a little bit.

“What’s on your mind?” Captain Hook asked her, while placing two steaming plates on the table. “You look like you’re mentally somewhere else.”

“Oh!” she exclaimed. Could he tell that she had been thinking about another man? Did he recognize the signs of pining? Fear ripped through her body. “I’m sorry, C—James. I’m just...trying to process everything that’s happened today. I hope that’s all right?”

“Of course, sweet princess. It’s important that you understand your circumstances thoroughly.” He gestured to her plate, and she dug in.

“This is very good,” she offered, trying to sound as enthusiastic as possible.

He grinned. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

She found his expression both scary and exciting. Florian had looked at her like that sometimes, but only briefly. Hook’s gaze was...lingering.

Stop. Thinking. About. Florian. He’s not coming back.

They ate in silence. Snow White wasn’t sure if that was a positive development.

Hook’s eyes never left her person.

*   *   *

They returned to the living room couch after the captain had cleaned up the kitchen. He rested his left arm over the top of the cushions, his hook dangerously close to Snow White’s face. She remained acutely aware of this as they talked, but tried her best not to let her fear show.

“You mentioned your stepmother earlier,” he remarked. “Why did you believe that she’d sent me to fetch you?”

“I thought you were...a replacement for her huntsman.”

“Her huntsman?”

“Yes. She had ordered him to kill me, because she was jealous of my appearance. He couldn’t do it; he begged me to run away and never come back. So when you...took me from the dwarfs’ cottage, I thought she had discovered my hiding place. I was very scared.”

“She wanted you dead simply because you’re beautiful?! That’s outrageous!”

“Yes. She’s...a very jealous woman, you see. She’s rather unhappy with her lot in life, and I think her beauty is the only thing that matters to her. She—” Snow White faltered, unsure of whether she should reveal the extent of Queen Grimhilde’s envy.

“Go on! Do not hold back. Please. I need to understand! How does a princess endure such treatment? Tell me.”

Snow White sighed. “My mother died when I was a baby, and my father remarried shortly thereafter. When he died, my stepmother—the new Queen—raised me as a scullery maid. She was very resentful of my appearance, even when I was just a little girl, and she set me as her maid so that I wouldn’t grow up to be too pretty. I wore rags a lot. But I did have one nice dress—” She gestured to her current attire. “—and I was grateful for that. I never complained, because I’ve always known that cleaning is important work. I was happy to do it. But sending her huntsman to kill me was just too much. I was...it was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life.”

Hook was silent for a moment.

“I would never even dream of justifying her actions,” he said, after a forceful inhalation. “Though any insecure woman would be envious of you. You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. And I’m sure many people have felt the same, upon viewing your magnificent features. I must confess...you are so beautiful, I can hardly think straight in your presence.”

“You’re...that was a very sweet thing to say, James.”

“I only speak the truth, dear Snow White. It’s a pity that you had to endure such gross humiliation—a girl of your station should have grown up being dressed in the finest gowns and sleeping in the softest bed, with royal subjects kissing your robes.”

“I didn’t mind terribly; like I said, cleaning is meaningful work. Someone has to do it. And it really wasn’t too bad, most of the time. I was usually singing or whistling, to keep myself in good spirits. And I wasn’t alone; I had company in the local wildlife and Pri—”

Her stomach dropped. She couldn’t believe what she’d just said. What she’d almost revealed.

“Whom?” Hook asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Nothing. No one. Nothing. I didn’t mean anyth—”

“It wasn’t nothing! Did I hear the beginning of the word prince?”

Snow White’s deep blush gave her away. Her captor sat up straighter, lightly tracing his hook around her neck and throat. She shuddered.

“Who is this prince?” he spat. His hook was now creating a slight indentation in the side of her throat.

“I—I can’t. I don’t want to—”

“TELL ME!” The hook dug in a bit deeper, and drew a drop of blood.

“All right, I’ll tell you!” Snow White cried, trembling. “I’m sorry! I just—”

The hook released. It was no longer hurting her, but it still lay mere centimeters from her neck. She was afraid to breathe too deeply, lest the movement bring her closer to another sharp sting.

“Tell me. I will not ask you again.”

“His—his name is Prince Florian.”

“And how do you know this Prince Florian.”

“He’s from a nearby kingdom. He heard me singing once a few years ago, when he was riding through the forest. He found me and told me that he loved my voice. We had a very nice conversation. He’s a singer as well. He composes songs and performs them for his father’s guests. And he used to visit me sometimes, when I was cleaning outside—”

“How often? How often did he visit you?”

“A few times a year. Not often. We weren’t...together. It was nothing like that.” She’d begun speaking more quickly, as she noticed the change in Hook’s countenance. He was clenching his fist and glaring at her, with a deep frown creasing his features.

“If it was nothing like that, then why do you miss him so? It’s written all over your face that you have romantic interest in this boy! You flushed as soon as you began to think of him!”

“It was just...nice to have some company, you know? To be around someone who made me feel like I was important—sometimes.”

Hook reached out and rubbed the puncture wound on her neck, capturing the drop of blood. Upon withdrawing his hand, he licked his finger. Snow White had to bite her lip to avoid vomiting.

“Sometimes?!” His frown now morphed into a triumphant sneer, and his tone transformed from rage to a mocking drawl. “He only made you feel important sometimes? Pray tell, what was he doing the rest of the time?”

“I...I don’t really know. He came to see me a few times a year, like I said; and when I tried to grow closer with him, he always told me he was too busy.”

“Ahh, a womanizer!” Hook had almost fully relaxed again. “He’s a prince. That’s what royal men do. Especially the hormonal younger ones; they are utterly preoccupied with intimate fantasies. I’m sure this Florian never wanted you; he probably spoke false words of love to many girls you never knew. And how would you have known them, having been forced to remain a maid with no social life of your own? Perhaps if you’d only wanted to fornicate, he would have obliged; but you wanted more than he was willing to give. He was too immature for you. You’d best forget him—like he’s surely forgotten you. I’ll wager that he’s copulating with someone else right now, as we speak. If he never saw you again, he wouldn’t even notice. You have no place in his life. Forget him.”

“I’m trying. I promise. I’ve been telling myself he’s no good for three years; it’s just hard to move on when we have—we had such a powerful connection. I didn’t think such a rapport could be fabricated. Also, he insisted that he would not have made the time to see me if he didn’t genuinely like me; but he only wanted lighthearted interactions, and he was too scared of my stepmother. It was...very hard for me, as I’m sure you can see.”

“Forget him. I insist upon it. If you don’t, we’re going to have a serious problem.”

Snow White was too afraid to ask exactly what that meant.

Chapter Text

Snow White wasn’t sure what to make of the first week she spent with Captain Hook. She was terrified of him, given the method by which he had brought her to his cottage; but she also couldn’t believe how much she was beginning to enjoy his attention. She already knew how to watch herself around a fearsome authority figure, anyway. As she’d reminded herself on her first day here: having grown up under Queen Grimhilde’s thumb, self-regulation down to the millisecond was second nature to her. All she had to do was that which came naturally—watch her facial expressions, mind her behavior and tone of voice, and focus on the positive aspects of their cohabitation.

She really did feel quite important, as Hook plied her for more details about her life and her daily habits. And she was grateful that he was allowing her to sleep on his sofa. She felt silly for having worried that he was going to rape her on their first evening together. He had only been concerned, because she’d fainted! If he did not value her, he would have violated her once she’d fallen unconscious. She’d been defenseless. He could have done anything to her. And all he’d chosen to do was lay her down in his bed, so she could rest.

She knew that, in taking her from the dwarfs’ cottage, he had behaved badly. What he’d done was wrong. But perhaps, as a pirate, he didn’t know any other way to assert himself when something he wanted appeared out of reach. It was likely that pirates didn’t greet strangers by knocking on doors, apologizing for arriving unannounced, and asking if they could come in. Snow White hoped that her politeness would rub off on Hook over time. It hadn’t worked with Grimhilde; but then again, her stepmother hadn’t wanted her around. And in the end, she’d wanted the princess dead.

Hook reminded her of this one day, when she was having a particularly difficult time acclimating. She’d been silent all morning, unable to hold a conversation because she was so overwhelmed, her mind felt foggy.

“You do realize, don’t you, that this is a drastic improvement in your quality of life?” he snapped.

“I—I know. I’m grateful that you cook for me and—”

“It’s not just about cooking for you! Do I really have to spell it out? Snow White, you’re safe. You’re not running through the forest, fleeing for your life after a man had been ordered to stab you in the heart and carve the organ out of your chest. You’re not dressed in rags, on your knees, scrubbing floors and windows and washing multitudes of other people’s dishes. You’re not living in fear for your safety because a family member wants you dead for being prettier than she is!”

“I know, James! I know! I promise! I just—”

“Look what I’m doing for you! I rescued you! I saved you from a toxic home! And may I remind you that your stepmother STILL wants you dead?! So long as you remain here, and treat me respectfully, I will never hurt you! I would sooner kill someone else for trying to hurt you, rather than harm you myself.”

“And I appreciate that! Really, I promise I do. It’s just a lot to take in.”

“How? How is this too much for you to process? Why are you struggling so much? You should be decompressing now; not feeling as anxious as you were before you came to live with me. I am protecting you and providing for you! You claim to have enjoyed living with those dwarfs—for all of twenty-four hours—but face it: they only allowed you to stay because you’d offered to be their housekeeper! You did the grunt work that they were too lazy to do themselves! You still had to earn your keep, the way you did with your stepmother. I’m not making you do anything. You don’t have to cook or clean or wash my clothes. All you have to do is be here. Do you not realize how lucky you are? How revered you are?”

“Of course I do!” she gasped, her normally high-pitched voice now reaching even higher into the heavens.

“Well, I’m not feeling a lot of appreciation, princess. I advise you to work on that. You seem a little ungrateful. And I don’t have much tolerance for that—not after all the nonsense I have to put up with on my ship. I’ve left my first mate in charge, for an undetermined period of time, just so I could stay here with you. I have rearranged my entire schedule—hell, my entire life—around you. I can’t understand why you’re still so unhappy. I don’t know what more you could possibly want from me.”

He turned around and stormed out of the room. She sank to her knees and wept.

*   *   *

What is wrong with this princess? James thought as he stalked around his bedroom. He was doing so bloody much for her, and yet getting her to enjoy his company was like trying to pull candy away from a toddler. Possible, yes, but not without a massive struggle.

He was also enraged because his desire to be near her was reaching maddening levels. He didn’t like how much control she now held over him. She was the first thing on his mind when he woke up, and the last hazy cloud to float across his consciousness as he fell asleep. Sometimes with his cock in his hand. Though he’d had some experience with the opposite sex while studying at Eton College, he hadn’t given much thought to such things once he’d decided to become a pirate. He wasn’t sure if what he was feeling for Snow White was rational or not. He wasn’t even sure how to label his emotions. He'd have to think more on that.

*   *   *

Snow White felt a bit better after Captain Hook returned to the living room to discuss their argument. He confessed that he had never felt such a pull toward another person, the way he now felt with her, and perhaps he had been handling it badly. He had no experience with such matters. And nor did she, as she admitted. He didn’t apologize for how he’d spoken to her; but at least he admitted that he may have been a bit out of line. Maybe he’d been too impatient with her. He could tell that she really was trying to grow accustomed to living with him, and he was proud of her.

While grateful that he was no longer angry, she wasn’t sure what she wanted or expected with this man. She’d hoped for more freedom after fleeing Grimhilde...but she’d never really had a choice in any aspect of her life. Therefore, what Hook was asking of her was not outside the norm. And the more she thought about it, the more she realized that he was right: her current situation was a massive improvement from her childhood—and not simply because she didn’t have to do any chores. She also wasn’t fearing for her life.

Not really.

All she had to do was follow Hook’s rules, and avoid triggering his temper, and she would be safe. Much, much safer than she’d been in Grimhilde’s castle. It should be easy. She just had to try a little harder.

Plus, being in close proximity to a man provided a huge distraction from thoughts of Florian. Did she still miss him? Terribly. But her feelings for him were not quite as strong as they’d been before. The past week had taken the edge off. It wasn’t much, but it was something. It was more progress she’d ever made in getting over him.

Were there moments when she imagined Florian in Hook’s place? Of course. Some days, it was hard not to wonder what it would be like to live in a little cottage with the prince—to talk with him on the living room couch, to sit at the piano and sing with him, and to be his highest priority. But those thoughts were starting to feel dangerous—even more dangerous than they’d been when she was living with Grimhilde. There, she’d been afraid for her sanity as she’d tried to dissect the meaning of Florian’s inconsistent behavior. Especially after her trip to the wishing well.

But now, so much more was at stake.

Most importantly: she was not living with someone who wanted her dead. She was living with someone who wanted her alive, and actually liked her. In addition, this cohabitation was positively forcing her to stop loving Florian. Before Hook had entered her life, she hadn’t been sure she was even capable of getting over the flighty prince. Now, though, she had a grave reason to believe that staying in love with him was no longer an option. Period. She had to pull herself together and grow up. She was no longer a naïve teenager who could afford to pine for an older boy who was out of reach. She was a grown woman. She should be above wallowing.

Captain Hook was giving her a kick in the pants. It was tough love. He was shoving her out of her comfort zone, to make her grow painfully in ways that she otherwise never would. For that, she was grateful.

Also, Hook always gave her privacy when she bathed. He never even knocked on the bathroom door. And outside of the occasional light caress of her hand, or her back, he never touched her. Given his strength, he easily could have done so, but he chose not to. That had to count for something.

In his own way, he did respect her. It was sweet.

*   *   *

After another week passed, Snow White’s mood had lifted considerably; but she was still not acting quite like her normal cheery self. Hook was determined to change that.

“You’ve mentioned that music always uplifts you, yes?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Come with me.” His lips turned up slightly as he led her into the living room.

Snow White didn’t know how she was supposed to feel when Hook smiled. He wasn’t a bad-looking fellow; but something about his joviality unsettled her. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. And she figured it was safer to not give the notion too much thought, lest her fear consume her. She wasn’t supposed to be afraid of him, anyway; he wanted her to be happy. Open. Easygoing. Which she normally was.

He just wanted her to be herself.

He just wanted to be around her, for the pleasure of her company.

No one had ever made her feel that way—that all she had to do was act authentically, and they would be delighted. Therefore, staying in Hook’s good graces should, theoretically, be a walk in the park. It troubled her that she was having such a rough time of it. She worried that she still wasn’t trying hard enough; that she was still too stubbornly hung up on Florian. The fantasy of Florian, she reminded herself. Not the real Florian. She didn’t even know the real Florian; there was no way her “intuition” had told her the truth about him. She’d merely been telling herself what she’d wanted to hear, like the childish little girl she was. She berated herself again for her immaturity.

“Which pieces do you like the best?” Hook asked, as he sat down in front of his piano. “Something by Bach? Schumann? Beethoven? Mozart, perhaps?”

“I—I don’t really know,” she confessed. “I know of the famous classical composers; but I’ve never had a chance to hear any of their music, whether for voice or just piano.”

“Ah, no matter! That’s no bother at all. Let’s see....” He opened a large music book, and settled on Beethoven’s Ninth.

Snow White enjoyed the piece, despite Hook’s inability to play most of the left-hand part; but she found it hard to keep her composure when Hook reached the section that included singing. It was hard not to recall the last time a man had sung for her. When Hook finished the symphony, Snow White had tears in her eyes.

“That was so beautiful,” she sighed, hoping to disguise the real reason for her crying.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, sweet girl.” He reached out and stroked her arm. “I’m surprised you’ve never heard that piece—it’s one of the most famous from the classical period. What do you usually sing?”

“I only sing for the joy of it; I hum whatever comes to mind. I’ve never sung anything someone else composed...except for those moments when—”

“You sang with him, didn’t you.”

The breath caught in her throat. She bit her lip and looked at the floor.

Hook sighed so forcefully, the sound was a barely-veiled growl.

“I’m sorry for thinking of him again, J-James. I promise I’m trying not to. It’s just that...he’s the only other person with whom I’ve ever sung. It’s hard not to remember that. I’m sorry. Truly. I’m so sor—”

“It hurts me deeply, to know that you could care so much for someone who never earned your affections. I appreciate that you are determined to move on from him, but your lingering affection for him still makes me rather...despondent.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m falling in love with you.”

Chapter Text

Snow White couldn’t believe what she had just heard.

Despite having had powerful chemistry with Prince Florian, he had never told her he loved her. No matter how close they’d come to doing more than just hugging and touching playfully, he had never initiated spending time with her in a more intimate fashion. He had never offered to take her away to his castle, so she could escape her life of servitude to Grimhilde. He hadn’t even been able to figure out how he felt about her, much less tell her. It had driven her mad. She had yearned to hear him profess his love for her, but it had never happened.

Captain Hook had uttered those words after only two weeks.

This man had been more direct with her in two weeks, than that boy had been in three years. No wonder Hook was exasperated with her inability to shake him off like an itchy cloak.

For the first time since meeting the prince, her thoughts of him were truly dour. There was a subtle hint of tenderness under the surface, but the spark appeared to be fading. Finally. She was maturing past her childish crush at last. She was breathing easier for the first time in years.

Though they’d been brought together through unconventional means, the princess realized that she may actually have a future with the charismatic captain. She was beginning to soften around him, and to feel more relaxed in his home. She enjoyed being so fervently sought after, simply for her company. She enjoyed when he played piano for her—how he played so well with such a handicap was impressive!—she appreciated how diligently he took care of her, and she found his conversation riveting. He regaled her with stories of his life as a pirate, his days as a college student, and even embarrassing details from his early childhood.

His mother had been the person to train him in piracy. Surprisingly, he’d been terrible at it. Of course his skills had markedly improved over the years; but he’d had to devote a lot of hard work to the vocation, to achieve his current position.

“I had enough time to practice, given how terribly the other children treated me,” he confessed wryly. “I was quite the outcast.”

“That’s too bad,” Snow White replied, feeling genuine compassion for him. “What did they do?”

“They bullied me for being so heavily invested in my music. For being shoddy at piracy for so many years, before I finally got my footing. They also teased me for being attached to my stuffed bear. They—”

“Well, that’s plain ridiculous. I’m certain they were just posturing. Don’t most children have teddy bears?”

“Perhaps. But I also think they, ah...they didn’t like what I’d named mine.”

“What did you call it?”

“Captain Cuddly Bear.”

“That’s adorable!”

“Glad you think so,” he chuckled.

“Of course I do! What a cute name for a teddy bear. How could any child turn up their nose at that?”

“I suppose they enjoyed looking down on me. They all invited each other to spend time together, and waved it in my face that I was not included. It was particularly difficult to deal with on my birthdays, since none of the other children ever wanted to celebrate with me. My favorite acquaintance was my babysitter, Nanny Nell.”

“Oh no! It really is awful how cruel some people are, you know?”

“Indeed, sweet princess. That is one of the things I love about you: your unwavering kindness. It warms my heart. I must admit that you are...softening me quite a bit. I don’t quite know what’s come over me.”

To her surprise, she felt a warmth in her own heart at hearing his words. And there was a slight flutter in her stomach.

Could she actually fall in love with this man, if she tried hard enough? It now seemed a possibility. She was so proud of herself.

“Tell me more about your mother,” she said.

“She spent a lot of time teaching me swordsmanship. Hand-to-hand combat. Swimming. Navigation. All mandatory skills for any aspiring pirate. She also booked me piano and trumpet lessons until I left home.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you played the trumpet as well! That is lovely.”

“Well, not anymore,” he sighed, holding up his hook and scowling.

Snow White felt a flash of fear, but shoved it down. God, she was such a wimp. She’d been through so much worse. And she really was beginning to enjoy James’s company. Why was she still scared? It was pathetic.

“How—how did you...I mean—”

“How did I lose my left hand?”

“Yes. I’m sorry; I don’t mean to pry. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No, no, it’s all right.” He patted her arm. “A boy named Peter Pan sliced it off with his sword, in a childish prank, as he called it—and then he fed it to a crocodile in the ocean. That crocodile has been following my ship ever since, hoping to devour the rest of me.”

“Oh my goodness!!” the princess exclaimed, much louder than she’d intended. The sound rivaled her trademark squeals.

She pressed both hands to her heart as he told her the awful tale. A child had amputated him just for fun? A child who could fly, no less?! Wasn’t the boy powerful enough, with his unique ability? What a monster! It was surely enough to have driven poor James mad, after everything he’d already endured—having grown up a bullied child who had done nothing to deserve such fierce ostracism. Goodness gracious! It was no wonder he was a little rough around the edges, still struggling to express his feelings in a healthy manner.

But he’d made massive progress. She could see that in the way he carried himself, the way he’d begun speaking more gently, and the softening of his facial features when he looked at her. He had a spring in his step now. And it was all because of her. Her very existence was helping him improve his behavior and his outlook on life. Maybe, underneath it all, he was just a larger version of Grumpy. All he needed was someone to show him respect and care, instead of making fun of him.

How were the little dwarfs faring without her? Did they miss her? Did they believe she’d run out on them? Did they feel betrayed?

She felt a pang in her chest, but she reminded herself that the dwarfs had gotten on just fine before she’d found their house. They would be all right without her. She couldn’t go back to visit, anyway. James would never allow it.

James also didn’t like when her mind wandered during their conversations. And so she was quick to return her attention to the story he was telling, of his previous crew—which had taken him all over the seven seas in search of plunder. He’d been stranded at sea after a spectacularly failed mission; but his current first mate had found him and rescued him. It was no wonder James had had no problem leaving Mr. Smee in charge indefinitely. The ship was anchored in Neverland, anyway. They weren’t even sailing. The ship would not leave Neverland’s shores again until Peter Pan was dead.

James’s life of piracy fascinated Snow White. It also disturbed her, given the violence and thievery involved; but that was the only way of life that he knew. And apart from the nightmare that was Peter Pan, the island of Neverland sounded like a fascinating place. She wanted to visit. James told her he would consider it at a later date; but for now, she needed to remain in his cottage.

She readily agreed. The seas sounded dangerous, anyway. Especially this time of year. The weather was getting cooler, with autumn now in full swing, and winter was fast approaching. She was safer inside.

*   *   *

A few more weeks passed in this manner, and the two unlikely housemates fell into a routine. Snow White rose each morning after James walked into the kitchen to prepare breakfast. She relaxed and allowed herself to bask in the pleasant smells wafting into the living room. Once fully awake, she padded into the bathroom to freshen up, and then joined James for their morning meal. He was quiet in the early hours, preferring to observe Snow White rather than speak.

During the day, he would alternate between cleaning and talking with the princess on the couch. She found herself learning to enjoy the sound of his voice.

They spent their evenings at the piano. James taught Snow White about all the famous classical composers, performed many of their acclaimed pieces for her, and then began teaching her how to play. Though she couldn’t read books, she was adept at reading music. She was an enthusiastic student with natural talent.

He also had her sing for him every day. She always felt a haunting pang in her chest when they sang together, as the activity caused her to think of the prince; but she was getting better at shoving those stubborn feelings down. Perhaps one day, after having shoved those feelings down enough times—and with enough determined force—she would quash them out of existence.

*   *   *

At the end of October, after one particularly successful piano lesson, both teacher and student were in a very good mood. Snow White had progressed remarkably since James had begun instructing her, and her excitement was infectious. He ran his hand down her back and told her that she was a pleasure to teach.

The princess found that she was the happiest she’d been in months! She still carried a tiny shadow of pain over the loss of the prince, buried deep inside her heart, but the agony was lessening day by day. It wasn’t even really agony anymore; merely a dull ache. Easy to ignore, since it had been there for so long. She was now convinced that it would be all gone eventually. Like it had never existed.

She stood by the piano and watched James dust off the instrument, close the lid, and push in the bench. They faced each other in silence, until James took a step toward her. And then another. And then another. Her breath hitched. She had never stood this close to a man before. The flutter in her stomach returned.

When his left arm reached around to pull her close, the flutter intensified. His hand cupped her cheek and tilted her chin up. Her mind went blank.

And then his lips were on hers.

He swallowed her gasp by sliding his tongue into her mouth and massaging. Slowly. Deliberately. Firmly. Allowing her time to figure out how she was supposed to respond. It took her a moment, but she caught on. She paid attention to every movement of her lips, tongue, and hands as James guided her, making sure she was reacting the right way: hands on his shoulders, lips moving in tandem with his, tongue twirling around his.

She didn’t feel the searing passion she’d heard about from gossip; but she was rather thrilled to be the object of a man’s desire. She enjoyed being held by the strong arms wrapped around her, feeling the tongue roving around inside her mouth, and hearing the harsh breathing from the man whose hungry lips devoured hers. Based on his increased intensity, she must have been performing correctly. She must have been falling for him after all. She was kissing a man who was not Florian, and liking it.

She was doing the right thing. She was doing what was expected of her. She felt safe.

She also had to acknowledge that James was actually the embodiment of one of her deepest fantasies: to be whisked away from home by a man who wanted her so badly, he could barely control himself; a man who would do anything he could to acquire her. While she frowned upon his methods of said acquisition, and she had yet to feel any strong pull toward him, she enjoyed his attention. She enjoyed feeling wanted. Needed. Craved. No one had ever made her feel that way—for her personality as much as her appearance.

And anyway, she wondered if this was what mature attraction felt like—not the all-consuming, frenzied obsession of the teen years, which caused the afflicted to lose all ability to think rationally; to want nothing more than to fling one’s arms around their love and tear off that person’s clothes as if in a fever. Snow White had never even kissed anyone she’d found attractive, and so she couldn’t tell if attraction was what she was feeling for James. But whatever she felt for him, it was no longer revulsion, or even indifference. She was relishing his presence—and goodness gracious, she was relishing how much he loved kissing her. What was she to do?

Her ruminations continued long after James pulled away and rested his forehead against hers. After a peaceful silence spent in this position, he interrupted her thoughts with a question she should have anticipated...but instead, it threw her completely off-kilter:

“How would you feel about sleeping next to me?”

Chapter Text

“S—sleep with you?” Snow White stammered. While proud to have graduated to the point of allowing James to kiss her, she wasn’t sure if she was ready for...that.

“Just sleeping, sweet princess,” he cooed. “Clothes on, if you prefer. I would never force you.”

She thought for a moment, and then nodded. Despite discomfort gnawing at her insides, she knew that sleeping next to James would be a good step toward forcing herself to feel more intimate with him. She needed to expand her comfort zone, as it was.

And so commenced the first two weeks that they shared a bed. He stroked her hair and rubbed her back, seeing how nervous she was about sleeping next to a man, but he otherwise remained firmly planted on his side of the mattress. Snow White couldn’t even find the words to convey her gratitude and relief. Goodness, he was so patient.

*   *   *

In the middle of November, James decided that it was time to return to The Jolly Roger. Not for too long, though. Not unless there was a rare treasure that could be picked up by a rival pirate gang. He just wanted to check on his crew—and see if he could finally kill Peter Pan. He stocked his fridge and freezer, and gave Snow White plenty of piano material to work on, to occupy herself in his absence. And he begrudgingly conceded that she could clean the house as well. She was delighted.

He boarded his ship to a chorus of whoops and cheers. Mr. Smee even hugged him. Granted, Mr. Smee hugged him during many of his rough patches—especially if a certain crocodile had been involved—but only in private. He’d never performed a public display of affection in front of their entire crew.

No one else could get away with that. James made sure to dramatically roll his eyes while patting Mr. Smee on the head, so everyone would know he wasn’t that happy about being cuddle-attacked. Not exactly a dignified position for the fearsome captain of a pirate ship.

*   *   *

“Captain, there’s something you should know,” said Mr. Smee, as the two men walked across the deck.

“Oh dear, now what’s gone wrong?” James moaned. “I can’t step away for any real length of time, or something goes belly-up.”

Mr. Smee sighed. “It’s Peter Pan, sir. While you were away, he tried to come aboard the ship several times. He really wants to finish you off. A few other flying children were with him, too. Pan had his sword out and everything. We tried to kill him, but he always escaped. He’s taunting us; I swear. He vowed to come back again. Very soon. He could be here any day now. Any minute, perhaps.”

“That blasted CODFISH of a boy!” James stormed forward, forcing poor Mr. Smee to run to catch up with him.

Now that James was away from Snow White, and thus didn’t have to appear so restrained, his dramatic flair had returned with a vengeance. As did his abrupt switch from speaking like a proper English gentleman to using pirate jargon.

But Mr. Smee didn’t register what had just happened. None of the pirates did. All they knew was that their captain was back, and they needed to avoid angering him. They’d already set him off enough, with their failure to kill the stupid boy in green. Smee had made a fine acting captain, of course; but he did not command nearly as much respect and fear as the tall and imposing James Hook.

The tall and imposing James Hook was not going to tolerate any more shenanigans.

*   *   *

James had now lost several opportunities to kill Peter Pan. This realization was maddening—as was his crew’s incompetence. James could barely trust them to keep the ship afloat, much less help him eliminate Peter! The flying boy was stubborn; and so he would surely return again, true to his word. But it still enraged the captain to know that he was out there. Alive.

James vowed to find a more capable crew in the near future. Even if doing so forced him to leave Neverland.

But he had to kill Peter Pan first. He would never rest until that little bastard was dead. He couldn’t get his left hand back, but he could at least tip the scales of justice.

Tick, tock, tick, tock....

The fire coursing through James’s blood froze solid.

Tick, tock, tick, tock....

He tried to keep his wits about him, but the telltale sign of the approaching crocodile muddied his brain. Instead of wanting to slap Mr. Smee upside the head, he was now endlessly grateful for the man’s presence. For some strange reason, Smee had the marvelous ability to shoo off the stubborn reptile, simply by yelling at it. Which he did, promptly, upon hearing James gasp and seeing him break out in a cold sweat.

The esteemed captain of a magnificent ship was reduced to a shivering little boy, at the sight of a foe larger than he. He stood rigid with twitching eyebrows, as his diminutive first mate stepped in to save him. Oh, the indignity of it all.

James found himself pressed against the opposite end of the ship, having crept backwards without even realizing it. A wide-eyed Mr. Smee approached, running toward the shaking captain to try and console him. Since no one else was on deck, Mr. Smee thought it acceptable to hug the tall man even more fervently than he’d done the day before. The force of the embrace nearly knocked James backward—which could very well have had him toppling over into the sea. It took him several seconds to right himself, after flailing around precariously.

“Why, you blithering blockhead!” roared James, snagging his hook on Mr. Smee’s shirt to pull him close. This time, he really was going to pummel the little man. He was sure of it.

“PETER PAN AHOY!” shouted one of the pirates.

Thwarted at the last second. Again. 

“It is Pan!” James exclaimed, after carelessly dropping Mr. Smee to the ground and grabbing his telescope. “He’s headed this way with some rut of those scurvy brats! Mr. Smee, pipe up the crew!”

Mr. Smee was already back on his feet, ready to bring all the pirates onboard. A wave of stamping feet and raised swords ascended onto the deck like a human tsunami.

“We’ve got him this time, Mr. Smee!” James announced, as his first mate helped him don his bright red coat. “I’ve waited years for this!”

After affixing his feathered cap, James barked out orders to the pirates at each section of the ship, as they prepared to shoot cannonballs at the meddlesome boy.

Their shots were accurate, but Pan’s reflexes were offensively sharp. He ducked, dodged, jumped, and spun like a dancer, always a split-second before one of the cannonballs should have hit him. And of course he sent off those brats to follow his little fairy girlfriend, the second he realized what James was doing. At this point, Pan was just taunting him. This only made the captain angrier.

When Pan dove out of sight and did not return, James knew he needed to take further action. It was clear that he could not kill the boy while aboard his ship. He’d tried that for ages. He gathered Mr. Smee and lowered them both into a canoe, to row in the direction of the Indian encampment. Being friendly with Pan—and having a serious crush on him, from what James could see—the princess Tiger Lily likely knew where the boy was hiding. With enough persuasion, James was certain he could coerce her into revealing Pan’s home base.

Thankfully, it didn’t take too much effort for them to capture Tiger Lily. Being much smaller and weaker than even the bumbling Mr. Smee, captain and first mate easily subdued the girl and tied her up. Her only act of defiance was a glare sent their way. So very menacing, she was. James stood a little taller at the head of his canoe, chin raised and lips turned up in a triumphant sneer. Victory was in sight. He could almost taste it.

*   *   *

Being back at Skull Rock reminded James of his personal hidden treasure, far beyond the reaches of Neverland’s shores. Though this place looked the same as it always did, it felt different from the last time he’d traveled here. His life had completely changed since that fateful summer day, when he’d discovered Snow White after slipping through the portal.

While his priorities had shifted to include the docile songstress, James didn’t consider himself a changed man; he was still a vicious pirate who desired the same rewards as other likeminded seafarers: treasure, power, and freedom to do as he pleased all across the ocean, cutting down anyone who stood in his way.

The defiant little Indian princess, tied to a small rock inside the cove, was one such adversary. James would have found her adorable, were she not withholding crucial information.

“Now, me dear princess, this is my proposition,” James told Tiger Lily. “You tell me the hiding place of Peter Pan, and I shall set you free—am I not a man of me word, Mr. Smee?”

The first mate eagerly agreed. James thought he’d caught Smee crossing his chubby fingers as he turned his back, but perhaps that had just been a trick of the low light. He looked back at the Indian princess.

“You’d better talk, m’dear, or soon the tide will be in...and it will be too late! Remember: there is no path through water, to the happy hunting grounds!”

This tiny obstacle was proving to be more of a wrench in his plans than he’d anticipated. Despite being faced with her almost certain death, her expression of defiance remained strong and firm. God, he probably would have killed Snow White by now, if she’d ever dared to look at him that way—much less remain silent in the face of his questioning. That was one of the things he adored about her. She was a much more pliant princess than this little girl with that annoying feather in her hair. He wanted to rip it out and shove it down her throat, to watch her thrash and cry and gag as she suffocated before his eyes.

But that would accomplish nothing. He needed to know where Peter Pan was, and only this stubborn little bitch possessed that information.

“This is your last chance, Tiger Lily!” James growled, feeling his skin grow hot as he grabbed the girl with his hook and pulled her toward his twitching face. She flinched, but still did not say a word.

“MANATOA, GREAT SPIRIT OF MIGHTY SEAWATER, SPEAK!” called a booming voice from behind James.

He dropped the princess and whirled around. What the—

“BEWARE, CAPTAIN HOOK! BEWARE! BEWARE!”

“Did you hear that, Smee?” James asked his trembling first mate.

“It’s an evil spirit, captain!”

“Stand by, Smee, while I take a look around.” James climbed back onto the rock formation, sword drawn and eyes narrowed. “Spirit of the great seawater, is it?”

“MR. SMEE!”

“Uhh...yes, Captain?” He had no idea that the call had not come from James; it was a very convincing imitation.

“RRRRRELEASE THE PRRRINCESS, AND TAKE HER BACK TO HER PEOPLE!”

The man’s eyes brightened; he was keen to follow this much easier (and more humane) command. “Aye aye, sir. Release the princess—but, but Captain....”

“THOSE ARE ME ORDERS, MR. SMEEEEEE!”

“A-Aye aye, sir!” The little man scuttled over to the tied-up princess, and carefully placed her back in the canoe.

Tiger Lily stared.

“Captain Hook’s coming to his senses,” he told her. “I told him all along, you Indians wouldn’t betray Peter Pan, but—”

“And just what do you think you are doing, Mr. Smee?” James drawled, upon hearing the first mate’s damning words. What in the nine hells was the man doing, talking about him coming to his senses, and speaking to Tiger Lily like a trusted friend?

“Just what you told me, Captain!” Smee replied cheerfully. “Carryin’ out your orders.”

“My orders?!”

“Yes, Captain! Didn’t you just say to go—”

“Put her back, you blithering idiot!!”

James was ready to condemn Mr. Smee to the same fate as the Indian princess.

“My orders,” he mumbled to himself. “Of all the bumbling—”

“MR. SMEE!”

This time, James heard it. His anger toward Smee dissolved; but a swell of frustration crested inside him. There was an imposter afoot!

“JUST EXACTLY WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?” called the voice.

“Putting her back, like you said, Captain!”

“I SAID NOTHING OF THE SORT!”

“B-b-b-but C-c-c-captain, d-d-didn’t you? I t-t-t-thought that—”

“FOR THE LAST TIME, MR. SMEE. TAKE THE PRRRRINCESS BACK TO HER PEOPLE! UNDERSTAND?”

“Aye aye, sir!”

“OH, AND ONE MORE THING. WHEN YOU RETURN TO THE SHIP, TELL THE WHOLE CREW TO HELP THEMSELVES TO ME BEST RUM.”

Unbeknownst to the spirit, James had been following the sound of the voice. It led him to a dip in the rocks, where sat Peter Pan! The boy’s hat was over his face as he gleefully performed his impersonation of the captain.

Ohh, you will regret this, you bloody scoundrel!

James raised his hook, poised to slash the boy’s throat. At long last.

“HERE’S YOUR SPIRIT, SMEE!” he roared, snagging Peter’s hat with his hook—not his throat; just his bloody hat. The boy flew off into the air, cackling.

“Why, it’s Peter Pan!” gasped Smee, chuckling nervously.

“Scurvy brat!” growled James.

“Thank you, Captain!” Peter jeered, as he swooped down and swiped his hat from the tip of James’s hook.

“Come down, boy, if you’ve a taste for cold steel!”

“Watch this, Wendy!” Peter boasted to his female companion—who had largely remained silent during this affair.

“Oh, Peter, do be careful!” Wendy cried.

The word “careful” didn’t seem to be part of the boy’s vocabulary—a swan dive took him down to the very edge of James’s sword, where he bounced one foot on the edge. The damned showoff. James staggered backward from the recoil.

And so commenced an epic sword fight.

James was now perched on the precipice; the top of the rockface where Peter had just been. If it weren’t for his impressive balance, he would have toppled over into the water.

Peter flew around James a few more times, taunting him by remaining just out of reach. The boy even hovered above Mr. Smee for a moment, and pulled the man’s hat down over his eyes! James thrashed his sword furiously, growing more and more irate. Why couldn’t the boy just bloody stay put for one second? Why was he so hard to kill? He was like a flying cockroach.

James didn’t think things could possibly get any worse.

“Try your luck, Mr. Smee?” asked Peter, while offering the man a small gun.

“LET HIM HAVE IT!” James called to his first mate, who was trying desperately to shoot the boy flitting about. With no success. “Well, come on, you idiot! Blast him!!”

“Right here, Mr. Smee!” taunted Peter, hovering in the air with his arms and legs extended in the shape of an X, wiggling his hands and feet for emphasis.

Right in front of James.

Of course, only then did Mr. Smee aim correctly. James began to quiver, and his heart raced. Was Smee really that dumb, that he would shoot Peter when the captain was standing directly behind him?! Apparently so.

“Hold it, you fool!” James screamed. “No! NO!!”

BANG.

Chapter Text

Without James at home, Snow White wasn’t sure what to do with herself. She had no problem cleaning the house and practicing the piano—but during her downtime, she felt frighteningly unstable. She missed James. He had become such an integral part of her life. The center of her universe.

She felt safe and...mature, as she sat with her feelings for him. Instead of pining for a fickle Casanova like a naïve schoolgirl, she was dutifully fulfilling her role as the attentive partner of a man who had also made her the center of hisuniverse. It no longer took too much effort for her to behave properly. No more effort than she’d put into her life until this point, anyway. Unlike her childhood, spent under Grimhilde’s roof, she was actually wanted in this house. So, sure, she still had to watch her tone, her facial expressions, and her body language—especially in the romantic department—but that was old news. She was performing correctly. She had never felt so secure in her life.

On the flipside, she had also grown so accustomed to the captain’s domineering presence, she had forgotten how to avoid looking over her shoulder. She suddenly realized that she could speak out loud, and no one would hear her. She could sit and think without someone asking her what was on her mind; she wouldn’t have to explain herself—or make up a story, if the truth would have landed her in trouble. She could cry if she needed to, and no one would see her. No one would scold her for being ungrateful, or tell her that her feelings were inappropriate.

She could even pull back one of the curtains—just a little bit—to see what the yard looked like.

Couldn’t she?

She had lived in this house for months now; surely, it wouldn’t be a problem for her to discover what her own front lawn had to offer. But only from the inside, of course. Just a quick peek. Her heart pounded, and her head felt light, as she considered the possibility. Would James know, if she broke this one small rule? Would he be able to tell if one of the curtains looked ever so slightly out of place? Cleaning a house involved dusting the curtains, anyway, so she did need to touch them in some fashion. He couldn’t expect her to neglect that very important task.

As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she felt the sensation of eyes on her. Dozens of them. She ran to the front door, expecting James to walk through—as if her mere thought of disobeying would summon him back in a heartbeat. Too afraid to actually open the door, lest he see her breaking one of his most important rules, she simply stood in front of it, shaking like a leaf.

It took her fifteen minutes to step away. She then walked through every corner of the house, to make sure James wasn’t there...or perhaps another pirate, whom the captain had stationed on his property, to watch the princess in case she defied his orders.

She lightly smacked herself on the arm for having entertained such an absurd thought. How could James—who had spent every waking minute in this four-room house for several months—have brought someone else inside without Snow White’s knowledge? The only place another person could hide would be the bedroom closet. And she had checked there. Four times. Along with the pantry. Just in case. No one was there.

She really needed to get a grip.

“Be brave,” she whispered to herself as she tiptoed over to the living room window. After another couple of shaky breaths, she slowly reached up and pulled back the curtain.

Thick trees lined the perimeter of the property. James must have cut some down to delineate the property line. He’d done a rather fine job, too. The tall grasses and other plants blended in nicely. Snow White squinted as her eyes adjusted to the natural light—something she hadn’t seen since the summer. The sun’s brightness was a bit jarring. But that wasn’t what shocked her the most.

A deer was running full-speed across the yard. And it didn’t get caught on any spikes.

The princess ignored the icy shiver that ran up her spine.

*   *   *

The bullet sailed over Peter and James’s heads, and embedded itself in the rockface behind the captain. Despite having avoided the killing blow, the force of the bullet’s passage sent James toppling into the frigid water. Scrambling for purchase took some effort, given that his limbs were shaking from the cold.

“What a pity, Mr. Smee!” Peter sighed in mock sadness as he floated back down to solid ground. On the edge of a cliff. “I’m afraid we’ve lost the dear captain.” Adding insult to injury, he picked up James’s hat—which had not followed the man into the water—and placed it atop his own head. He then began prancing around in a victory dance.

That’s it. NOW you’re fish food! James snuck up behind the boy, sword drawn.

“Captain!” cried Mr. Smee in delight, upon seeing James’s less-than-triumphant return. Unfortunately, this thoughtless outburst alerted Peter, who whirled around to face his aggressor.

“In the back, Captain?” Peter jeered.

In response, James jammed his sword inside his hat, to remove it from Peter’s head and put it back on his own.

Peter drew his sword instantaneously. Far be it for the flying boy to ever lag for even half a second, to give James an edge!

The imp’s weapon was small, yet effective. He held his own against James’s vicious swipes with his longsword, amidst cheers of encouragement from Mr. Smee.

But did the boy actually just put his sword in his mouth, pull his cap down, and wiggle his hands by his ears, to taunt James?! That little bloody maggot.

James swiped at Peter a few more times, nearly delirious with rage. He wasn’t sure how much of his swordsmanship was now coming from his raw strength, or pure adrenaline.

Peter used that to his advantage. Hovering in the air, the boy pulled the captain’s cap down over his head, all the way down to his waist—why had James thought it a good idea to retrieve it by puncturing a hole in it?!—and then yanked on his mustache for good measure.

James saw red.

With renewed vigor, James slashed and jabbed at Peter, trying to knock the boy’s weapon out of his hand as much as he was trying to impale him.

“I’ve gotcha this time, Pan!” he growled. The boy had finally started to fall back.

Until James realized that Peter had lured him over the edge of the cliff. Peter could hover in mid-air. James could not.

If not for the captain’s lightning-quick reflexes, he would have just toppled back into the freezing water. Thankfully, his hook allowed him to remain perched on the edge of the cliff. But just barely. He was dangling precariously.

“Well, well,” Peter laughed. “A codfish on a hook!”

“I’ll get you for this, Pan, if it’s the last thing I do!!” Tears streamed down his face.

Tick, tock, tick, tock....

Peter grinned wickedly, and cupped his hand over his ear. “I say, Captain! Do you hear something?”

Tick, tock, tick, tock....

“No. NO!!!!”

Before James could even attempt to pull himself back up onto the rocks, the gigantic crocodile reared up and snatched half of the captain’s jacket in its mighty jaws. James screeched in fright.

“Hey, Mr. Crocodile, do you like codfish?” Peter asked the beast.

It nodded excitedly, licking its chops.

“You do?”

The crocodile reared up once more—this time latching onto James’s pants. Try as he might, he could not wrench them from the reptile’s grip. His hook was now digging into the rock with much more force. Was this it? Was this how the fearsome Captain Hook would meet his end? It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be. He had too much to do. He had too many more areas of the ocean to explore. He had a princess waiting for him at home—

The cliff edge began to give way.

“NOOOO!!!!”

It was dark. Constricting. Terrifying. James could hardly breathe. Something wet and rough was lapping at him. The air smelled like the inside of a sewer.

He was in the crocodile’s mouth.

With one last burst of strength, he forced the jaws apart and screamed at the top of his lungs.

“D-don’t go away, Captain!” yelled the first mate. “Stay right there now, sir! I’ll save ya, sir!”

“SMEE!!”

James had climbed out of the beast’s mouth, and was now holding its maw open with his legs. He sent up a quick prayer of thanks for all those years of swordsmanship training; his endurance might just save his life this day.

The crocodile snapped its jaws, trying to force James back into its mouth. The captain’s clothes were ripped to shreds, and his legs were shaking from the exertion of trying to keep the animal’s mouth open. Strong as he was, he felt his thighs quivering. The muscles were starting to give way as the crocodile began to close its mouth once more—with James folded over inside.

Gathering the last reserves of every muscle in his body, James shoved the beast’s maw wide open again. He was now standing on the lower jaw, and holding the upper one in place with both arms.

How bloody strong was this damn thing?!

Too strong, apparently. The jaws closed with a loud snap, taking one of James’s shoes with it. Its teeth pierced James’s foot just before the force of the beast’s movement caused him to go flying up into the air. He tumbled back down, screaming all the way...to land right back inside the crocodile’s mouth.

“SMEEEEE!!!”

The crocodile dove into the water, with the struggling captain still trying to break free. He would not be swallowed, under any circumstances!

Somehow, while underwater, James managed to scramble away and wrap his limbs around the beast before it broke the surface. The opponents glared at each other for a moment, until the crocodile’s expression became one of devious triumph. Without warning, it violently jerked its mouth back open, sending James flying. He landed on the crocodile’s back, and ran across the length of its body—intending to jump back into the canoe with his frantic first mate, who was paddling to the scene as quickly as he could.

The crocodile was relentless. Mere centimeters in front of the canoe, the animal burst out of the water, jaws wide open, to trap James and swallow his shout yet again. James repeated his previous motion—forcing the jaws further apart with both arms and screaming for Mr. Smee—and this time, the first mate whacked the beast on the head with his paddle. He whacked James as well, but not as hard. The force of the blow sent both man and beast back underwater.

A fiercely strong swimmer, even after all he’d endured, James furiously propelled himself up to the surface and pulled himself into the canoe.

“Roe for the ship!!” James screamed. And for once, Mr. Smee obeyed his orders without a single mishap.

*   *   *

“That cursed Peter Pan, making a fool out of me!” James grumbled as he sat in his bedroom aboard The Jolly Roger. His feet were soaking in warm water and he had a heating pad on his head, but he was still cold. It would take a long time for the chill to fully leave his shivering body.

Mr. Smee watched his captain’s condition closely—after first slipping and falling in a puddle of water on the floor—and made sure that James maintained a healthy body temperature. He supplied James with a thermometer and plenty of hot compresses, and changed out the water in the bucket for his feet when it grew too cold.

About an hour passed before James was able to think clearly again. The captain announced his lucidity with a shout, upon hearing the latest bit of Mr. Smee’s ramblings:

“You know, there’s trouble brewin’ on the island,” the first mate had remarked. “Women trouble. I wouldn’t want this to go any farther, but...the cook told me, that the old first mate told him, that he heard that Pan has banished Tinker Bell.”

“WHOA!” yelled James, standing up and jumping out of his chair. He paid no mind to the water he’d just splashed everywhere. “Did you say...Pan has banished Tinker Bell?!”

“Aye aye, Cap’n! That’s a yes!”

“But why?”

“Well, on account of Wendy, Captain.”

Smee explained that Tinker Bell, in a fit of jealous rage, had tried to use the Lost Boys to murder Wendy. Peter then banished her as punishment.

James was in such shock, he didn’t even register Smee’s suggestion that they lift the anchor and finally return to sailing the open seas. And Smee, in his bumbling excitement, believed that the captain was agreeing with him.

“That’s it, Smee! That’s it!” James shouted—this time, in joy. “Quick: me coat! Me best dress coat.”

“Aye aye, sir. The sooner we get going, the better!”

“Ah, yes, a jealous female can be tricked into anything.” James began primping in front of the mirror. “My case of hooks!”

“Aye aye, sir. Here you are, sir. Your Sunday set.”

“If we impress the pixie, convince her we’re eager to help her, the wench may chart our course to a certain hiding place.” He winked conspiratorially.

Smee didn’t get the memo. “Our best hiding place is the Spanish main, sir. I’ll set our course—”

“And where do you think you are going?”

“To tell the boys we sail with the tide, sir.”

James smirked and shook his head. “You will go ashore, pick up Tinker Bell, and bring her to me. Understand?!”

“Aye aye, sir.”

Feeling a bit silly, yet relieved to have fixed the miscommunication, Smee hopped into his canoe and rowed toward the mainland.

*   *   *

Tinker Bell was sulking. She was very good at that. Staring forlornly at the Indian encampment as everyone danced, she longed to hear Peter’s voice. To see him smile. To perch on his shoulder. She couldn’t accept the indignity of having been relegated to second place in his heart, the instant that damned Wendy girl had come along.

The girl in the blue nightgown had done nothing to deserve the honor of Peter’s affections. So what if she’d sewn Peter’s shadow back on for him? She hadn’t accompanied him on all of his adventures, for years, and remained faithfully by his side, no matter how much danger he’d put himself in! That had been Tinker Bell alone! What had Wendy done? Well, she’d been a whiny spoiled brat, who had only followed Peter to Neverland because she hadn’t wanted to grow up. And now she was crying because Peter had ditched her for Tiger Lily.

Bully for her. The blue bitch deserved to have her heart broken. It was hardly a fitting punishment, though; she should’ve died when the Lost Boys attacked her. It wasn’t right that she’d escaped unharmed. Stupid Wendybird.

The fairy crossed her arms and huffed. She had to find a way to get back at Wendy. And to return to Peter’s side.

WHOOSH!

But first, she had to find a way out of the sack she’d suddenly become trapped inside. What on Earth—

A high-pitched, raspy male voice pierced the silence. “Begging your pardon, Miss Bell, but Captain Hook would like a word with ya.”

Chapter Text

“Yes, Miss Bell, Captain Hook admits defeat,” the pirate drawled, gazing at Tinker Bell with mock affection as he played his piano.

Folding her arms and scoffing was her only response. She refused to even look at this horrible man, much less indulge his pretty words; he didn’t mean them. She resolved to continue ignoring him until she could figure out how to escape.

“Tomorrow, I leave the island,” he told her, “never to return.”

That got the fairy’s attention. And Mr. Smee’s, as well. The latter choked on the bottle of rum he’d been glugging, which he swiftly placed back into its hiding spot inside the piano. (He was still amazed the captain had never noticed it.)

“I’m glad to hear that, Captain!” he exclaimed, and punctuated his statement with a loud hiccup. “I’ll tell the crew, and—”

James couldn’t resist sticking out his foot and sending his eager first mate sprawling. The little man really needed to learn to stop being so bloody impulsive.

“And that’s why I asked you over, me dear,” James cooed at the irate fairy, while still deftly tickling the keys. “To tell Peter I bear him no ill will.”

Tinker Bell swiveled around on her tiny seat, eyes narrowed, and regarded the musical captain—and his clumsy goon, who was scrambling to get up off of his portly rear end. What a pair they made. If they hadn’t just kidnapped her, she might have found them a rather amusing spectacle.

“Oh, Pan has his faults, to be sure—bringing that Wendy to the island, for instance. Dangerous business, that.”

Tinker Bell thrashed her fists and stomped her feet, scattering fairy dust everywhere. She couldn’t help herself; any mention of Wendy sent her into another fit of rage. And she hated herself for that. As the captain continued speaking, she violently swept back her fringe and gave the man her back once again. He had just seen her at her worst. How mortifying!

Unfortunately, her cold shoulder didn’t convince him to stop needling her. It only motivated him to prod her harder.

“Why, rumor has it that, already, she has come between you and Peter,” he added with a sneer.

Tinker Bell hung her head and began to cry.

“But what’s this? Tears?” James gasped, in a convincing display of compassion. “Then it is true!”

Tinker Bell nodded despondently, granting the captain a wry glance.

Smee had resumed drinking himself silly, but scrambled to hide the bottle again when the captain addressed him.

“Oh, Smee...the way of a man with a maid,” James groaned, hitting his forehead with the back of his arm for extra dramatic effect. “Taking the best years of her life, and then casting her aside like an old glove!” His fingers moved across the keys so quickly and loudly, the instrument sounded violent. And had Tinker Bell been looking at James, she would have seen the malicious expression on his face. Alas, she was too busy sulking.

The captain’s performance was so compelling, even Smee fell for it. The little man burst into tears. “Ain’t it a blooming—hic!—shame!” he whimpered.

“But we mustn’t judge Peter too harshly, me dear,” James cautioned, while handing Tinker Bell a little rag that was larger than her entire body.

She accepted the offer, and shamelessly buried her face in the fabric as she sobbed. She had already embarrassed herself enough; there was no sense in trying to hide her feelings anymore.

“It’s that Wendy who’s to blame,” James growled.

Tinker Bell jerked upright, whipped her head around, and gave the captain a fierce nod of approval. Perhaps she hadn't embarrassed herself after all? Hook actually seemed to sympathize with her plight.

“Mr. Smee, we must save the lad from himself. But how?” Hook stood up from the piano and began pacing around the room, pretending to be formulating the plan that he’d long since laid out in his conniving mind.

Mr. Smee continued sobbing uncontrollably—even more than Tinker Bell had been. The little fairy felt a bit awkward. No, she most definitely had not made a fool of herself. Smee’s behavior was far more cringe-inducing.

“We’ve so little time,” said James. “We sail in the morning—sail! That’s it, Smee! We’ll Shanghai Wendy.”

“Shanghai Wendy, Captain?”

“Take her to sea with us. With her gone, Peter will soon forget this mad infatuation.”

Tinker Bell flew out of her seat with a sneer to match the captain’s. Was it true? Was Hook really going to help her get Wendy out of the picture? Oh, how her heart leapt. She clapped wildly.

“Come, Smee. We must leave immediately. Surround Peter’s home—”

“But Captain, we—we don’t know where Peter Pan lives!”

“Great Scott. You’re right, Smee!” James exclaimed, so convincingly that the first mate found himself startled; he thought the captain had only just realized this detail.

Tinker Bell eagerly flew over to James, whispering to him in fairly language.

“What’s that, my dear?” he asked, as she flitted over to his map of Neverland and pointed to it. “You could show us the way? Why, I never thought of that!” He gave his first mate the side-eye. “Take this down, Smee.”

“Aye aye, Captain.”

After dipping her dainty feet into the captain’s inkwell, Tinker Bell happily pranced across the map to make a trail, showing where Peter was hiding. Wendy would be with him, she was sure.

James dictated the directions to Smee, who copied them down. This process went well, until Tinker Bell hesitated—should she really sell out her beloved to this vengeful pirate who had kidnapped her? Did she really hate Wendy more than she loved Peter?

“Well, get on with it!” James barked, his façade slipping as his impatience overtook him. Then he forced his visage into a charming smile. “Continue, my dear,” he added sheepishly.

Tinker Bell wasn’t fooled by his backpedal. And now, she wasn’t sure if she should have trusted the captain. She whirled around and flew into his face to admonish him for his rudeness. Screaming at him in fairy language, she wagged her finger as she moved closer and closer, to the point that he had to step backward several paces. He briefly went cross-eyed, in order to keep his gaze fixed upon her while she raved and commanded him not to harm Peter.

He was not thrilled with her demands; but he knew he had to appease her, or his whole plan would be ruined.

“Madam, Captain Hook gives his word not to lay a finger—”

She curved her index finger while glaring at him.

“—or a hook on Peter Pan.”

With the promise sealed, Tinker Bell flew back onto the map and marked an X over the spot labeled Hangman’s Tree.

“Ahh, so that’s the entrance to his hiding place,” James told Smee, before grabbing Tinker Bell in his fist. “Thank you, me dear! You’ve been most helpful!” He shoved her into a lantern and slammed the door, cackling.

Tinker Bell doubled over and heaved. She’d made a grave mistake.

*   *   *

As the group of pirates crept toward Peter Pan’s hideout, James was brooding. Something about his chat with Tinker Bell had unsettled him, but he hadn’t allowed himself to think about it until after he’d gotten the information he’d needed from the fairy. Now that the matter was settled, his stress levels had dropped and he could think more clearly.

Mad infatuation. He had used those words to describe Peter’s view of Wendy—as if taking one look at a girl and falling for her were a shameful thing.

That was exactly what he had done with Snow White.

Was his a mad infatuation? Surely not. He hadn’t spent only a few hours with the princess and declared himself in love. He’d taken the time to get to know her. Also, he enjoyed making her happy; he didn’t want her to follow him like a tribe leader and yes him to death. And besides, he hadn’t had a partner (or a fairy sidekick) whom he’d thrown to the wolves, upon encountering Snow White in the forest. He hadn’t spent time with any female companions in years.

All right, so he had lied about the weather in Neverland, as an excuse to remain at his cottage with Snow White instead of coming back to his ship: despite the season, it was always balmy on the island. One could get away with summer clothing all year. But the girl had no way of knowing that. His lie had not caused her any pain. She was blissfully ignorant.

But would she always be so? Would she ever ask him a question that would cause him to slip up? Was he so fixated on her that he couldn’t trust himself to think straight in her presence?

His paranoia was obviously gnawing at him again. Obviously. Mad infatuation? No. Captain James Hook was above such nonsense. He was passionately in love with the princess Snow White, and there was nothing mad about that.

The sound of singing floated up from inside Hangman’s Tree, forcing James to stop moping. His eyes snapped up and he motioned for his crew to follow. They snuck up to the hole in the tree and peered inside.

Wendy was singing a song about mothers and their nurturing abilities. Her brothers, as well as the Lost Boys, were enraptured. Peter, on the other hand, was speaking angrily, having long since decided that forever remaining a child in Neverland was preferable to having a mother and growing up.

Mr. Smee lifted his shirt and began sobbing into the fabric as he caressed the tattoo on his chest: the word “mother” encased in an arrow-pierced heart. He’d received the piece after his mother’s passing a few years earlier.

James knew this, but didn’t care. He smacked Smee hard and told him to shut up. They had a job to do; getting sentimental would only render them ineffective.

Wendy had finished her song by this time, and she had convinced all the boys—except Peter—to come home with her. The boys scampered up the stairs to hurry out of the tree.

And Hook’s goons grabbed them.

By the time Wendy emerged, the pirates had all the boys tied up in a large mass of rope. The largest crew member seized Wendy and dragged her along with the other captives.

“All right, men!” James hissed. “Take them away!”

The hooligans complied, leaving only the captain and first mate behind.

“And now, Smee,” James whispered, “to take care of Master Peter Pan.” Smee handed the captain the gift-wrapped box they had brought with them, to drop down into the hollow of Hangman’s Tree. The naïve boy would think it a harmless present.

It was a bomb.

“But Captain,” Smee protested quietly, “wouldn’t it be more humane-like, to slit his throat?”

“Aye, that it would, Mr. Smee. But I have given me word not to lay a finger or a hook on Peter Pan.” He began lowering the package down into the tree via a rope. “And Captain Hook never breaks a promise.”

*   *   *

“Yo ho, yo ho, yo ho, yo ho, yo ho
So try the life of a thief
Just sample the life of a crook
There isn't a boy who won't enjoy
A-workin' for Captain Hook!”

The pirates danced around the circle of restrained prisoners, singing one of their favorite tunes. James joined in after a while—explaining, through song, what the boys’ options were: to either remain aboard the ship as part of his crew, or walk the plank. The gravity of the latter option did not fully register with the impressionable children; but they did understand that it was an undesirable choice.

By the time the pirates had finished singing their song, the boys were entranced by the thought of joining Hook’s employ. They especially liked the perk of free tattoos. So excited were they that, when their bonds were cut, they tripped over themselves—and each other—in a mad rush to sign the captain’s book. They couldn’t wait to declare themselves the newest members of his crew!

Until Wendy shouted, “Aren’t you ashamed of yourselves?!”

“But Captain Hook is most insistent, Wendy,” piped up one of her brothers.

“Yeah!” added one of the Lost Boys. “He says we'll walk the plank, if we don't.”

“Oh, no, we won't. Peter Pan will save us!” Wendy declared, lifting her chin and looking toward the skies.

“Peter Pan will save them, Smee,” James drawled.

The first mate giggled along with his captain, and the men hugged. Only for a brief moment, of course.

“But a thousand pardons, my dear,” James said to Wendy, bending over in a mock bow, to reach her eye level. “I don't believe you are in on our little joke. You see, we left a present for Peter.”

“Sort of a surprise package, you might say,” added Smee.

“Why, I can see our little friend at this very moment, reading the tender inscription: To Peter, with love from Wendy. Do not open till six o’clock.” James cackled as he continued revealing his sinister plot. “Could he but see within the package, he would find an ingenious little device—”

Mr. Smee took over. “—set, so that, when the clock is like this—” 

“Peter Pan will be blasted out of Neverland forever!” James finished.

“NO!” Wendy cried.

Off to the side, Tinker Bell began rocking her lantern-cage furiously. When she at last toppled it over, it cracked and flew open. The fairy took off, unseen, as the captain held up a small clock that read 5:59.

“Eighteen seconds...” James chanted. “Fifteen seconds...thirteen seconds....”

Chapter Text

Peter was, in fact, reading the tender inscription at that exact moment, pondering the contents of this unexpected gift. And with only ten seconds to go, he figured he could open it right then.

Tinker Bell came zooming towards him...and landed smack dab in the middle of a spiderweb. After struggling for ten agonizing seconds, she wrenched herself free and grabbed the package by one of its pink ribbons. Peter thought she was being greedy—not realizing that she was actually saving his life.

And potentially sacrificing her own, in the process.

The bomb was already shaking in Peter’s hands by the time he’d decoded Tinker Bell’s frantic gestures, which revealed what the package contained and who had really sent it. The fairy seized it from Peter’s hands, flew out to shore, and hurled the box into the sea just as the explosive detonated. The force blasted Tinker Bell back into the trees, flipping her head over heels several times before she landed hard on her side.

Peter’s jaw dropped.

*   *   *

The occupants of The Jolly Roger watched, spellbound, as the explosion rocked the island. The sight was overwhelming: brilliant reds, oranges, and yellows flashing so brightly, the lights were almost blinding. Billowing black smoke burst ominously from the burning trees. Mist and roiling blue waves rose up near the shoreline.

No one could form a single word—except the gleeful captain, who took pleasure in pretending to grieve with Wendy and the Lost Boys.

“And so passeth a worthy opponent,” James murmured with a deliberate heaviness in his voice, as he lowered his head. He closed his eyes and removed his hat, clutching it to his chest. Smee followed his example.

*   *   *

Tinker Bell struggled to breathe. Her fairy light was dimming. One of her legs was broken, and her other ankle was twisted. Rocks pinned her wings, paralyzing her and causing sharp jolts of pain to shoot through her tiny body.

Her will to live was also diminishing. It was hard enough that Peter had cast her aside in favor of Wendy—but now, after she had tried so hard to save his life, it may have all been in vain. If her fragile form had barely made it through the blast, Peter had likely perished. And she was nothing without Peter. Nothing.

“Tink! Tinker Bell!!”

Her heart soared. Peter was alive! She had no idea how, but he was.

“Where are ya, Tink? Tink? Tinker Bell!”

Tears of relief fell from her wide eyes as she heard him approach. He sounded unharmed, which was even more of a miracle. Still, she shook with fear; more piles of rubble kept falling on or near Peter while he struggled to get to her. Would he make it out of this hellhole alive, after all? What if a tree fell on his back? What if a boulder hit his head and—

Her crying became heaving. She thought she felt one of her wings tearing as her body wracked with sobs.

When Peter finally reached her, she revealed Hook’s masterful plot, and how he had captured Wendy and the Lost Boys. But she was so weak, she could barely communicate past that point. Her breathing became even more labored. She knew her time had come.

“I’ve gotta save you first! Hold on, Tink! Hold on!” Peter begged. “Don’t go out! Don’t you understand, Tink? You mean more to me than anything in this whole world!”

Another crash. Tinker Bell and Peter both shuddered.

He cupped her in his hands and choked back a sob of his own. That scared her almost as much as her injuries—she had never seen Peter cry.

She really was dying, then. That was the only thing that would ever move him to tears. There was no way he could bring her with him in his latest charge against Captain Hook. She was too weak. All he could do was carefully lay her down on a flower, far away from the debris, and hope that she would be able to recuperate.

*   *   *

“And now, which will it be?” James asked his captives, all traces of his phony grief gone. “The pen, or the plank?”

“Captain Hook, we will never join your crew,” Wendy replied, with her snooty nose in the air. Did the girl ever not sound stuck-up? Was she trying that hard to be a stubborn brat, or did it come naturally?

“As you wish,” he drawled with a sneer, gesturing toward the plank with his hook. “Ladies first, me dear!”

It was hard not to roll his eyes as Wendy bid the boys goodbye. All the tears were grating on his nerves. God, he couldn’t wait until the little bitch was dead.

One of the crew had also had enough of this sniveling nonsense. “Come on! Get along over there!” he growled, yanking Wendy away from her wimpy little brother. He grabbed the girl under one arm, and swatted the toddler back over to the rest of the group, like the tiny boy was no more than a meddlesome fly.

The rest of the pirates joined in the jeering, as they hoisted the girl up onto the plank.

“Get going!”

“Don't give us no trouble!”

“Go on! Go on! Get it over with!”

“Move along!”

“The captain's waitin'!”

Predictably, Wendy kept her head held high as she slowly walked to her death. Even with her wrists bound behind her back, she still somehow managed to portray an almost regal air—but that wouldn’t last. She would cringe and cry out in terror just as much as all the ship’s previous prisoners had done before stepping off the plank. James was giddy with triumphant glee, as the anticipation on deck mounted; he would never tire of watching his captives walk the plank. There was something so addictive about being able to choose whether another person lived or died. And if anyone deserved to wield that degree of power over others, it was Captain James Hook. He had more than earned that right.

“Wendy, Wendy!” her brother cried, just as she stepped over the edge.

James cupped his ear, listening for the splattering sound he had grown to love.

Silence.

*   *   *

It made no sense. The girl had dropped into the ocean. She did, in fact, weigh more than a handkerchief. Therefore, her jump should have made a very loud and satisfying splash. Instead, nothing. Not even a ripple.

What in the nine hells?

“Captain, no splash,” remarked Mr. Smee—as if James needed that fact spelled out. The bloody imbecile.

The crew were murmuring amongst themselves, all equally disturbed. Everyone peered over the edge of the ship, gaping at the eerily calm water below.

“It's a jinx; that's what it is!” announced one pirate. “I'm telling you, mates, it's a black day.”

“Mark me words. We'll all pay for this!” groaned another. “The ship is bewitched!”

It was aggravating enough that everyone was spouting off terrible theories, acting like powerless victims. But on top of that, they had to keep stating the obvious: No splash! No splash! Not a sound, Captain! No splash!

James had had enough. “So, you want a splash, Mr. Starkey?” he growled at the most recent offender. “I’ll give you a splash!” Grabbing Starkey with his hook, he hurled the man overboard. He then turned back toward his crew of cowards. “Who’s next?!”

“You're next, Hook!” called a voice from several meters up. A voice James thought he would never have to hear again. “This time, you've gone too far!”

No. It was impossible. There was no way the boy had survived that blast.

“It's Pan! Peter Pan!” called the prisoners. “And Wendy!”

“It can't be!” James exclaimed, taking a step back.

But it was. Peter had walked away from the explosion, and then rescued Wendy just before she would have hit the water.

“It's his blinkin' ghost what's talkin'!” whimpered Mr. Smee.

“Say your prayers, Hook!” Peter jeered. Drawing his weapon, he jumped and flew down toward the deck.

“I'll show you this ghost has blood in his veins!” James unsheathed his own sword. “I'll run him through!”

Peter flew behind him and poked him in the back with his blade. Taunting him.

“Take that!” James yelled, whirling around and swiping at the boy.

After chasing each other around one of the masts, James took another swing at Peter—who jumped back at the last second, causing the captain to lodge his hook inside the wood.

“Curse this hook!” he growled.

“Come on, everybody!” Peter told the boys, while slicing through the ropes binding them. They all scampered up onto the cargo net, shouting words of encouragement to each other.

“Don't stand there, you bilge rats!” James screamed at his bewildered crew. “Get those scurvy brats!”

At least the men didn’t need a second warning. They sprang into action and began chasing the boys up the cargo net. All while James was still hacking at the mast, trying to free himself.

“This is no mere boy,” he groaned, when his hook finally sprang loose. “'Tis some fiend fighting me. A flying devil!”

Meanwhile, the pirates were steadily approaching the gang of children, who were now sitting in the holding area above the net. The boys actually thought they could defeat a small army of adult buccaneers—defending themselves with nothing but rocks and tiny knives! What arrogance.

The children were, surprisingly, able to hold their own for the most part. A few of the boys clubbed the approaching men, causing them to topple over and fall off the cargo net. Some lost consciousness. A few died.

“I'll crack their bloomin' skulls!” yelled a pirate, while decapitating one of the Lost Boys. Two of the fallen child’s comrades jumped on the man’s shoulders and began smacking him with renewed vigor. They tumbled down to the deck, a pile of thrashing limbs.

No longer backed into a corner, and fueled by raging adrenaline, the remaining children started climbing down the cargo net, to face the pirates head-on. James stormed over to aid his crew.

The captain ran through another one of the Lost Boys who wasn’t paying attention; he’d been too absorbed in watching his friends fend off the pirates. James was only too delighted to kill the boy. (Also, the kid’s pajama suit had looked bloody ridiculous. He’d deserved to die, just for wearing something so stupid.) He hurled the idiot overboard and once more turned his gaze upward, in search of Pan.

The boy was doing what he did best: zipping this way and that, staying out of the line of fire.

Mr. Smee had lowered the canoe into the water, in anticipation of men falling into the sea from the cargo net. He was now rowing around the ship, keeping watch on the fracas so as to spring into action if needed.

“Fly! Fly! Fly, you coward!” James growled. He climbed up another cargo net toward Peter, who was standing proudly atop the yard. The captain kept his sword raised, while using his hook to gain leverage as he ascended.

“Coward? Me?” Peter taunted.

“Ha! You wouldn't dare fight old Hook man-to-man! You'd fly away like a cowardly sparrow!”

“Nobody calls Pan a coward and lives! I'll fight you man-to-man, one hand behind my back.”

“You mean you won't fly?”

“No, don't, Peter! It's a trick!” screamed Wendy.

“I give my word, Hook,” Peter replied, ignoring the distressed girl.

Having climbed all the way up, James stood in front of Peter. He leaned in so close, their noses nearly touched. “Good. Then let's have at it!”

Before Peter could even take another breath, James pushed him over the edge. He hung on with one hand—which James stepped on. Despite the pain, the boy used his position as leverage to grab hold with his other hand and hoist himself back up.

James sliced through one of the ropes attached to the yard, since it had been giving Peter some ground. The boy immediately grabbed it and held on, to sway back and forth around the captain. After two swings, James cut the rope again. Peter went sprawling. He was now balancing on the very edge of the yard, by one foot. His other limbs were flailing—and yet he was still able to remain standing, keeping a hold on his little sword.

All right, so he was a decent duelist after all, James noted. His muscles were strong. But he still needed to die.

The enemies began swiping at each other once more. Peter regained his balance and advanced on James. But given the captain’s superior stability and longer weapon, he easily knocked Peter’s sword out of his hand and caught it on his hook, before tossing it into the sea. James’s calculated blows forced Peter to stagger back, leaning on one foot and then the other...and then he completely lost his balance. Lying on his back, he gripped the yard for support.

“Insolent youth, prepare to die!” yelled James, while pointing the tip of his sword at Peter’s heart.

“Fly! Fly, Peter! Fly!” Wendy shrieked.

“No! I gave my word.”

As he was speaking to the girl, James was pulling back his sword to deliver the killing blow.

Seeing his opening, Peter sprang to his feet. “You're mine, Hook!”

The boy would eat his words. In the time it took him to make this declaration, James thrust his sword forward. Peter instinctively jumped to avoid being skewered—and toppled over. Wendy and the remaining boys screeched in horror.

Peter landed in the canoe. On top of Mr. Smee. The pirate squealed.

“Row me to shore, and I’ll let you live!” Peter ordered, wrapping his arm around Mr. Smee in a chokehold. The squat man was dangerously close to passing out by the time he relented—but relent he did. Peter kept his arm around Smee’s neck the entire time, to ensure obedience.

The pirate would never admit it, but a small part of him pitied the boy. He understood that Peter had committed a terrible crime by cutting off the captain’s left hand; but he was also...a boy. A child. The children of Neverland retained their emotional immaturity as much as their tiny bodies. Peter hadn’t understood the magnitude of his misdeed.

Smee reflected on his recent conversation with James. And he really wished that the captain would relinquish his grudge already, to return to a life of normal piracy. Everyone on the ship would be better for it.

“Thanks, Mr. Smee!” Peter taunted, upon releasing his grip. “You’re the best.”

The little man sighed as he stood on the island and allowed Peter to scamper off.

The captain would be furious when he learned that Pan had escaped yet again. How was Smee to break the news? Especially given that Peter had almost killed him.

He decided to follow the boy for a while and see if he, himself, could strike down the imp—but after several minutes of huffing and puffing, he conceded that the agile youth was too fast. Pan was nowhere in sight.

With a heavy sigh, Smee made to return to his canoe...when a faint yellow glow caught his attention.

Tinker Bell.

The fairy was alive. Barely breathing, but still alive. And somehow, Peter had run right past her.

Mr. Smee knew what he had to do.

It wasn’t much, but it would be enough to save his hide and assuage the captain’s anger.

The first mate smirked as he grabbed the fairy in his cap once more. Weak as she was, she offered no resistance. She didn’t even seem to register what was happening to her.

A little talk with James was in order. And this time, Smee would make sure that the pixie could not get away.

Chapter Text

“He WHAT?!” James bellowed, snagging Mr. Smee on his hook and bringing them nose-to-nose.

The first mate could feel the captain’s hot breath on his face. He’d known this explosion was coming, but it still rattled him. He was trembling so violently, he wondered if his very bones were shaking.

“He—I...I’m sorry, Captain! The boy held his s-s-sword to my throat! I had no other choice but to let him go!”

“Bollocks, Smee! I knocked the weapon out of his hand before he fell. It landed in the ocean!”

Mr. Smee blanched. He hadn’t known that James would see through the lie—but now that he’d made his claim, he needed to follow through.

“He must have retrieved it somehow; you know he can fly! I assume he can swim, too, so—”

“I know he can fly! You think I hadn’t noticed that tiny detail after all this time? Do you think me daft?!”

“N-n-no, Captain! Of course not! I—I just thought you might be, ah...I suppose a wee bit s-sympathetic? To me, I mean. Not to Pan. He—the boy does not deserve any sympathy. And...and anyway, I brought you his little pixie! I thought that would give you an advantage, because—let’s face it—we know Pan will eventually come here to search for her. He loves her. He won’t just accept that she’s gone; not without proof.”

James threw Mr. Smee to the floor and began pacing around his room. Whether the little man had been lying about Peter’s weapon or not, he was making a good case for himself: capturing Peter’s fairy had indeed granted James leverage. The only leverage he now had over the boy. At this juncture, all he could do was bide his time until the boy showed his face again.

*   *   *

Five days had passed. Now recovered from this latest escapade with Peter Pan, James was brooding heavily in his cabin. He was also pumping his cock with more fervor than he’d done in months. As frustrated as he was aroused, he needed to release all of his pent-up energy.

He imagined it was Snow White’s mouth working him—ever since he’d first laid eyes on the princess, his own hand had felt woefully inadequate. Hell, his whole life had felt woefully inadequate. From the time he was a little boy, he’d struggled with homicidal rage and displayed no empathy for others. He’d also been miserable more often than not. His mother had speculated that he might have had clinical depression, but he’d refused to do anything about it. He wouldn’t talk to anyone, or perform any introspection, or try to find ways to fulfill himself.

He shouldn’t have had to do those things, anyway. Life simply needed to start treating him better! It wasn’t his own fault that he was so miserable. His peers had snubbed him as a child, it had taken him years to become a respectable pirate, and he’d never had a meaningful partnership. It had been so unfair, and it had all been outside of his control. So of course he’d developed some mental disturbance.

As he grew older, he figured that this disturbance was a core part of his identity, and so he decided to embrace it. Fighting against something wouldn’t make it go away, after all. He didn’t want to waste energy resisting that which he couldn’t change—especially since he’d grown comfortable with his struggles. Music and piracy took the edge off of his misery, anyway. And plotting ways to kill Peter Pan definitely gave him a nice serotonin boost. The boy had amputated him, for God’s sake! As if the poor captain hadn’t suffered enough already! And now he had this bloody crocodile following his ship like a lunatic. He hoped to kill that beast one day, as well.

She’s different, he told himself, as he visualized the princess. She could complete me. As long as I have her, music, and my ship, I’ll be happy. That’s all I need.

He never felt a more powerful rush than in the moments when he gazed upon Snow White’s lithe body, heard her melodious voice, or kissed her luscious lips. He longed to map the rest of her with his mouth...and fingers...and tongue....

His hips jerked upward as he spilled into his hand, feeling like every cell of his body was screaming with desire for the princess.

How had he gone his entire life without knowing the joy of being around Snow White? She made the world brighter. She lifted his spirits and made him feel lighter on his feet. He had never experienced true happiness until he’d discovered her. Her mere presence gave him such a high, such a strong rush of emotion, he knew he could not live without it again. He also now realized why being in love changed a man, no matter how cynical he’d been before meeting his beloved. Love opened up portals in a man’s heart, and empowered him in ways that bachelorhood could not.

He was madly in love with Snow White. And he couldn’t wait for the day when she would be ready for him to show her to the world as his most prized possession. As long as that would happen within the next few months, he could handle her demure behavior a little longer.

He didn’t need a mental health professional. He didn’t need to think more critically about how his amputation had affected his body image or his outlook on life. And he certainly didn’t need to make healthier choices; all of his actions were perfectly justifiable.

All he needed was the princess. She was the missing piece. Her absence from his life was the reason he’d been so miserable before. And now that he had her, he would never let her go.

Tap tap tap.

Though annoyed to have been jolted out of his daydreaming, James smirked at the sound of Tinker Bell pounding her tiny fists on her glass cage—which was much sturdier than the lantern from which she’d escaped. The glass was thicker, as it had been built to house a small pet. It was also secured with a heavy padlock. One of the crew had given it to him, having kept it around after his pet mouse had died. James never understood why the man had insisted on domesticating a mouse, of all things, but at least that strange venture had provided him with a proper prison for Tinker Bell.

James wasn’t much of a spiritualist; but he found it curious that he could communicate with fairies, the way Snow White could communicate with animals. Perhaps that was a sign that they were life partners. He made a mental note to broach the subject with the princess, after she had grown more comfortable with him. Which likely would be soon, considering that she’d finally allowed him to kiss her before he’d left his cottage.

Tap tap tap. TAP. TAP.

“What now, you pernicious pixie?” James groaned. “You’re never getting out of there. Peter isn’t coming to save you. Stop throwing tantrums and wasting energy. You’re not even healed yet. Do you want to remain injured forever?”

Rattle rattle BANG.

“Miss Bell, kicking and punching will not alter your circumstances. And besides, d’you think Peter would approve of such immature nonsense?”

Harsh crying and labored breathing were his answers.

“Mope all you want. It won’t convince me to let you out and go back to Peter—who is probably shacking up with Wendy, now that you’ve disappeared. He likely believes you to be dead.”

More weeping.

“I can imagine it so clearly: heartbroken over your heroic sacrifice to save him, the boy is lost and alone. Oh, sure, his little gang of miscreants will always be there—what’s left of them, at least—but nothing can fill the void you left in his heart. Nothing except the girl who is still with him. Hanging off his arm and clinging to his every word. Oh, you should’ve seen the look on her face, and heard the terror in her voice, when I nearly killed him....”

The captain was past trying to win Tinker Bell’s trust; he now found it oddly therapeutic to instead pour salt in her gaping wounds. She was the reason Peter Pan had humiliated him and escaped yet again. She deserved to suffer. It was all he could do not to reach inside the cage and break her in half. Unfortunately, keeping her trapped, and alive, was the only way he could draw Peter back.

Wendy had been a mere distraction; anyone could see it. Peter didn’t love her. But as long as he lived, that boy would try his hardest to rescue his tiny leading lady.

James would let the fairy’s physical injuries heal. She was showing signs of improvement every day. She also had all the accoutrements that that mouse had enjoyed, including a bed of soft leaves and a few toys. But he would make sure that her emotional wounds would never, ever heal.

*   *   *

Broken bones were slowly knitting themselves back together. Shallow cuts and deep lacerations were scabbing over. Burns were turning to blisters, which were drying and solidifying as the skin healed.

A fairy’s body may not require food or medical care, but it had the same emotional requirements as humans.

Tinker Bell had been upset before. Sometimes hopelessly so. When she’d carried that bomb away from Peter, she hadn’t even considered the consequences to her own person. And she would do it again anytime, because she just loved the boy that much. He was her whole world. In her eyes, he was the brightest light in the universe; even brighter than her own shimmering pixie dust. Not knowing that he’d reciprocated her feelings—until he’d said so, after the bomb had exploded—she had felt the deepest, sharpest pain in her heart as she’d watched him fixate on Wendy. And his banishing Tinker Bell, on top of that, had been a humiliating betrayal. She’d never known such murderous rage before that swotty girl had flounced into Neverland. The fairy had always been catty, but she’d never wanted to kill someone.

Nor had she considered suicide.

However, being trapped in a padlocked cage, with no idea what had befallen Peter after he’d left to confront Hook, was making death seem a mercy. She could not break the glass this time. She could not find Peter. She couldn’t wish for the moment he’d rescue her, because he didn’t know where she was. She couldn’t send out a signal, or ask someone nearby to relay a message to the boy.

She couldn’t do anything.

Her only company was the dastardly captain who had now kidnapped her twice. And apart from Smee, the pirate who had brought her to him, no one else knew she was onboard. She’d overheard Hook telling Smee not to reveal her presence to anyone, under any circumstances, or he would find himself thrown into the sea.

Has Peter really replaced me with Wendy? she thought. She may have meant more to him than anything in this whole world, as he’d told her; but he also probably thought she was dead. He’d eventually want to move on. It would be too easy for him to turn to Wendy for comfort, and then forget about his faithful fairy. It also didn’t hurt that Wendy was...human. His own size. He could wrap his arms around her and kiss her. He could hold her hand without worrying about crushing her entire body in his fingers. They could fly through the Neverland skies together, moving at the same speed.

For the tenth time that day, Tinker Bell’s body shook as tears rolled down her cheeks.

Captain Hook was an expert manipulator; she realized this after he’d charmed her into revealing Peter’s hideout. At the same time, he may also have had a point, about Peter fancying Wendy. But that didn’t give him the right to rub Tinker Bell’s heartache in her face. She vowed, right then and there, to seek revenge on the hateful captain at the earliest opportunity.

He had to have a weakness. He just had to. And she’ d do whatever she could to find it, and exploit it to the fullest extent. Even if it killed her.

*   *   *

James was somber as he bade his crew farewell and climbed down onto the shore. He was still angry that Peter Pan had thwarted him yet again; that the boy had humiliated him in front of his crew, and then nearly murdered his first mate.

“It won’t happen again, Captain!” Mr. Smee promised as he and the crew gathered around James, offering well wishes. “If that boy ever comes back here again, I swear I’ll—”

“That’s enough, Mr. Smee,” the captain drawled, waving his hand in front of the man’s face to shut him up.

Despite his gloominess, he knew he’d been away from his princess for as long as he could handle, and he felt like his very skin was dragging him back to her. He felt physically uncomfortable about being apart from her. He needed to return to his cottage. And this time, he would remain there for several months.

He’d given Smee very clear instructions: man the ship in his absence, never let anyone into his bedroom, and make sure Tinker Bell remained alive. Trapped, but alive. The first mate had promised to obey. He’d also added that he would kill Peter Pan if the boy showed his face. James doubted Smee’s ability to carry out such a deed, given his own failures in that regard, but he appreciated the little man’s enthusiasm.

He didn’t even notice the abrupt change in temperature when he stepped through the portal and into the bitter chill of late November; he’d almost forgotten that perpetual pleasant weather was a luxury afforded only to Neverland. But the treasure that awaited him in the forest was far more valuable than endless sunny days.

His heart beat faster as he approached his cottage and walked the perimeter, pleased to note that the princess had followed his orders: not a blade of grass was disturbed, all the curtains were drawn, and smoke was coming from the chimney. Of course she’d be going through all the wood he’d left stacked by the fireplace. He smiled at the thought of sneaking up behind her as she knelt by the fire, and hearing one of her irresistible squeals when he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her neck.

Slowly, carefully, he opened the door, while doing his best to breathe quietly. He couldn’t wait to surprise Snow White and hear about her week. He couldn’t wait to touch her, hold her, kiss her, lick her creamy flesh....

The sight that greeted him made him boil with rage.

Chapter Text

James wanted to yell. Punch the wall. Kick a small animal.

The princess was asleep on the couch. He had done so much to finally get her comfortable enough to sleep in his bed—and the second he’d left the house, she’d gone back to the bloody sofa? So what if it was only an afternoon nap? By this time, she should be sleeping in his bed, and nowhere else. Why was she still resisting that? It was enough to make him explode.

He’d grown complacent. She’d made him soft. He’d been too easy on her. He needed to up the ante, now. Nothing else would show her how fiercely dedicated he was to her—and how much she’d taken his patience for granted.

Just as he’d hoped, she squealed when he climbed on top of her and began kissing her face. Though he’d sworn to exert at least some self-control, his pants were already too tight. God, she was mouthwatering.

“I missed you, my love,” he murmured into her neck.

“I—oh!”  

He bit down just a little.

“I—I missed you, too. How was everything on your ship?”

“I don’t want to talk about that right now. I only want to focus on you.” Without waiting for a response, he kissed her forcefully until his erection grew too painful to ignore.

Her brow furrowed. Her lower lip quivered. She still wasn’t ready.

Gritting his teeth, he climbed off of the girl and stalked into the bathroom.

*   *   *

Snow White felt discombobulated. She was happy to have James home, given the stability and direction he provided; however, she had rather enjoyed her solitude in his absence. Of course she’d had plenty of time alone in Grimhilde’s castle, but she also hadn’t been the only resident. Alone in James’s cottage, no one had been around to tell her when to eat, sleep, or clean. This past week, she’d been able to choose all of that for herself, for the first time ever. And she’d been allowed to play the piano—a leisure activity! She’d never been granted such a privilege as a maid. The concept of leisure was still foreign to her.

Another strange sensation had arisen during her seclusion: freedom.

It wasn’t that she felt trapped with James; oh no! He protected and provided for her, and he showered her with affection. But his absence had, somehow, allowed her to breathe a little easier. She wasn’t sure why. And she was too afraid to think about it too much. Had she ever breathed easily, anyway? She’d never been safe for a day in her life, until now.

Even after James had been back home for a week, she still wasn’t sure how to move past her conundrum.

“What are you thinking, love?” he asked. He’d been playing piano for the last half hour, and she’d been content to simply sit in a nearby chair and listen.

“Oh! I—well, I’m not terribly sure, really. My thoughts are a bit...scrambled.”

“And why’s that?”

“Um, well...I’d never been left on my own before, you see. So when you went back to your ship, I wasn’t sure what to do with myself sometimes. I was...confused, and a bit overwhelmed. And now that you’re back, I have to...get used to you again. Does that make sense?”

He stood up and walked toward her with a devious grin. “I have a way to scramble your thoughts even more,” he whispered huskily, “but in a more pleasurable fashion. It should allow you to grow more comfortable with me. And I think you’ll be surprised by how much you enjoy it.”

Taking her hand, he led her to the bedroom and told her to lie down. She complied, too anxious to do anything else. Now, she could hardly form a coherent thought, much less separate one conflicting idea from another and try to analyze each one. Which was probably for the best. Something in the pit of her stomach told her that thinking too hard would only bring her pain. Letting James guide her was the safest option.

“I’ve been thinking about doing this for a while,” he told her. There was a twinkle in his eye, which she’d never seen before, and it made her heart leap. Through her trepidation, she found herself a bit excited. He wasn’t acting menacing; he looked happy. And he was stroking her skin with such care, she couldn’t help but close her eyes and bask in the soothing sensation.

“Arch your back,” he whispered in her ear, as his hand snaked behind her. She wrapped her arms around his back without even thinking; it just happened. Was this love?

With deliberate slowness, he unzipped her dress. Her red lips parted, and she breathed a bit faster, as he coaxed her arms out of the puffed sleeves.

She’d never been exposed in front of another person. Not like this. Her stepmother had seen her in various states of undress when she was a small child, but she’d never lain half-naked before a man who looked at her body like a work of art.

Her rosy pink nipples pebbled in the cool air. Goosebumps blanketed her pale skin, raising the fine hairs on her arms. James gently moved her arms above her head. The cold steel of his hook against her wrist sent a shiver through her.

“I’ll warm you up,” he murmured into her neck, placing a firm kiss to her jaw. “Don’t move your arms.”

He had to exert tremendous effort to slow his breathing and take his time, rather than demolishing her like a ravenous beast. Her skin was so soft, and her scent was activating primal urges he hadn’t been able to release with anyone in years. He wasn’t sure how he was able to contain himself; but somehow, through some miracle, he kept his kisses light as he ventured across her neck and down to her small breasts. His lips touched every delicious inch of her. Exploring. Caressing. Tasting. Worshipping.

When he took a nipple into his mouth, she squealed. At last. His fingers gripped her tightly as his breaths came harsher and more ragged. He fervently wished for the return of his right hand, if only to cup both of the girl’s breasts at the same time. He resolved to caress one with his left hand, while stimulating the other with his mouth.

He sucked gently at first, to acclimate her to the sensation. Feeling her quiver beneath him was a delight. She granted him more squeals, the more intensely he worked, and then shuddered as he rapidly flicked his tongue over the hardened peaks.

All rational thought fled his mind. He had no cognition beyond the desperate need to devour the beautiful breasts laid bare for him. He kissed, licked, and sucked with abandon, now allowing himself to emit small groans of pleasure to match hers. She fisted her hands in the pillow and squirmed.

Her nipples were delicious. He could spend hours tasting them. And he would do so every day, from now on.

“Have you ever had an orgasm?” he whispered.

She shook her head.

“That’s about to change. A girl so beautiful should be made to feel like the goddess she is.”

He flicked his tongue over one nipple—while thinking about how desperately he wanted to do that in between her legs—and rolled her other nipple in between his fingers.

She was panting now, her mouth agape as more erotic sounds tore from her throat. How high can she squeal? James thought. I didn’t know a girl could make sounds like this. Her voice rose higher into the stratosphere, the more he stimulated her.

And then she fell apart.

The noises she made almost caused him to spill in his trousers. Her hips rutted against his, her back arched, and her brows knitted together while she moaned loudly. He couldn’t help but pinch one nipple and bite the other; he needed more. It was impossible to satisfy himself strictly by availing himself of the girl’s breasts.

Gripping her waist, he began kissing his way down her stomach. She was more pliant now, leaning her head back and basking in the post-orgasmic haze.

Only I can do that to you, he thought, grinning smugly before slipping his fingers underneath her dress and tugging it further down.

Snow White went rigid. Her eyes widened. Her arms flew down and grasped the fabric until her fingers shook.

“No,” she begged. “Please, James, I—I’m not...I don’t think I can...do this.” Like the flip of a switch, her erotic moans and pants had turned to gasping for air, as if she were suffocating.

She wasn’t ready for more. Forcing her would only undo all the progress they’d made thus far.

He needed to rectify this. Quickly.

“There there,” he soothed, reaching up to cup her face. He chanced a few more kisses on her lower belly; but when she seized up again, he realized he’d gone too far. She couldn’t handle anything more tonight.

“I...James, I don’t—”

“It’s all right, sweet girl. Don’t worry.”

He climbed off of her and reclined on his side, propping himself up on his right arm as he regarded the princess. Though she appeared far from happy, she was no longer hyperventilating. He considered that a blessing.

“I’m very proud of you,” he praised. “I wasn’t sure you’d be ready for more than kissing, so soon. I took a chance tonight. And I must say, your responses were...out of this world.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. You should be very proud of yourself as well—for venturing outside your comfort zone and trusting me to take care of you.”

A pleasant sensation wafted over Snow White. The tension in her limbs dissolved as a blanket of energetic security rolled over her. She wasn’t sure if she truly enjoyed hearing such words from James; her current position felt nothing like the adoration of the local wildlife, with no conditions attached. Still, though, this first intimate moment with James had felt much more meaningful than any time spent with Florian. James had had no qualms about expressing his affection for her, with both words and actions. The prince had hugged her tightly and gazed deeply into her eyes, but he’d never even tried to hold her hand or kiss her. And he’d certainly never alluded to having a desire to touch her naked body.

It would have felt so thrilling, to have done this with Florian, she thought, as a pang of longing lanced through her heart. I might have even let him—NO. Stop. You can’t think like that. It’s dangerous. James will know.

Not for the first time, she realized that following James’s orders came with many rewards—the most important one being a sense of safety. She had felt excited with the prince; but that had probably been no more than the potential she’d imagined. It wasn’t real love. Her desires had not been based in reality. They had been no more than the product of a childish obsession.

“I...really did enjoy that,” she told James, forcing herself to smile and look into his eyes.

“As did I, my sweet princess,” he purred. “Your body is even lovelier than I’d imagined. I was worried that you wouldn’t take to this as quickly as you did, but—”

“No, you were right. I spent so much time agonizing over what could go wrong between us, it was hard to just let go and enjoy the moment. But I tried. I really did. And the...well, you know—it felt rather lovely. I didn’t know my body could react like that. Especially since I was so concerned that I would...do it wrong.”

James smiled. “You need to stop using this,” he said, and stroked his hook across her forehead.

When she involuntarily shuddered, she blamed it on the cold.

“Your mind is still getting in the way. Don’t think; just let your body respond naturally. That’s the only way you really will be able to enjoy the moment—and not just at the last second, when your physical responses override your thoughts.”

She sighed and nodded. Of course he was hitting the nail on the head. How could anyone enjoy intimate relations while trying to analyze them logically? The notion was absurd.

Another stubborn thought of Florian wormed its way into her mind—how effortlessly she’d enjoyed the moment whenever he’d been with her, and whenever she’d thought about being with him—but she shoved it down. Immature fantasies had no place in her life anymore. She was a grown woman, and she needed to act like it. She was in a real relationship now; she could ill afford to continue pining for a fantasy of someone who was unavailable.

She focused intently on James’s face, determined to find something that made her feel the way Florian’s visage had done.

His eyes were a nice shade of brown, she supposed. And his mustache was always so neatly trimmed. Yes, he did have a reasonably pleasing face, now that she thought about it. She had to put conscious effort into recognizing all of this, but at least she succeeded. That was a positive development.

Also, no one but James had ever praised her. Not with such candor. Florian had paid her shallow compliments here and there, but the prince had always struggled with sincerity. He’d even said so himself, right before serenading her outside the castle. And now that she thought about it, James was likely correct that the prince had written One Song for another girl. Or maybe he’d learned the tune somewhere—perhaps from a performer, or a vocal coach—and he’d only told her that he’d written it because he knew she would believe him. She’d lacked the opportunity to find out if he’d been truthful.

The prince had definitely been toying with her. The wishing well had been wrong. There was no other explanation.

James took that moment to climb atop her body once more and kiss her hard. She responded obediently, even as her mind continued whirring.

How had she spent so much time telling herself that she had loved the prince, and that they’d actually had potential? That boy had never been so forward; so sincere and to-the-point about his intentions toward her, the way James was.

James didn’t beat around the bush. Ever. He was direct in his words and deeds, and he had no problem expressing his feelings through clear language. Also, unlike the prince, James’s words matched his behavior.

Snow White liked that a lot. She enjoyed the knowledge that James meant whatever he said, and that he followed up any declaration with an accompanying action. This made her feel safe, cared for, and respected. She enjoyed the feeling of security and predictability that came with every word he spoke. There were no games. No what-ifs. There was no need for her to waste hours and hours wondering what he really wanted, like she’d done with Florian.

How had that been real love? She had been delusional to think that loving someone’s potential was the same as loving the person they really were.

James would never subject her to such emotional torture. He would never say one thing, and then do another. He’d never make a promise he couldn’t keep. He would never be coldly distant one day, and playfully flirtatious another day. He would never make her doubt his feelings for her.

And she had come to truly enjoy their dynamic.

Perhaps she really was learning to love James. Perhaps this feeling—this quiet respect, rather than an all-consuming, frenzied passion—was how mature love manifested. Perhaps she was finally growing up.

Still, she was frustrated with herself for taking so long to really be in love with James. She was getting there, but she hadn’t crossed the finish line. She needed to get over her obsession with that senseless boy; it was the only thing impeding her progress.

Her body began to heat up once more, as James resumed kissing and nibbling on her neck. Lacing her arms around his back, she felt proud and accomplished—she could now freely acknowledge that James was the one holding her, instead of the prince.

She had come a long way in such a short span of time; and she couldn’t wait to see what other rewards awaited her, as she grew into her maturity and her understanding of what love really felt like.

Chapter Text

“You never told me what happened aboard your ship last week!” Snow White exclaimed.

She and James were eating a quiet breakfast, each basking in their private musings as they thought about the previous night’s activities. And now, to further her quest of falling in love properly, she knew she needed to express sincere interest in James’s life.

The captain smiled, having never seen such genuine excitement from his princess, simply over the prospect of hearing him share his experiences. Oh yes, last night had most definitely been a success.

“Peter Pan returned to try and best me,” he replied with a heavy sigh. “He brought his gaggle of followers with him, all wielding rocks and sticks and small knives, hoping to kill my crew and me.”

“Oh my goodness! What—and followers, you said?”

“Yes. They call themselves The Lost Boys, as if they’d been abandoned by heartless families. But in actuality, they either murdered their own parents or ran away from home, without a care for how their actions would make their relatives feel. Peter brainwashed them, you see. He promised them power and freedom—and no such thing as a scheduled bedtime—if they followed his lead.”

“They’re...just children?!”

“I use that term loosely. They may as well be animals. They’re out of control and practically rabid; they have no discipline. Having no more adults to guide them, their hubris has run amok. They’re allowed to do whatever they want, as long as they defer to Peter.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“No one knows. Peter must be some kind of...entity, seeing as he has been tormenting me for years, and yet he’s not aged a day. He still looks like he’s around twelve. Add that to the fact that he can fly—I can only speculate on his origins. He might even be a demon.”

Snow White shuddered. She remembered her stepmother’s Magic Mirror, which housed an enslaved demon. Was this Peter Pan such an evil spirit? Perhaps he was even more dangerous than the one in the glass, seeing as he had a corporeal form, and no master. He could do whatever he pleased, and wreak havoc anywhere without consequence. Which he seemed to enjoy doing.

James sighed as she relayed the story of the Magic Mirror.

“You see, now, why I had to use the...unconventional methods that I did, in order to bring you home and begin our courtship,” he said, sounding reluctant. His gaze flitted around the room and he flexed his fingers.

“What do you mean?”

“You’d been trapped your whole life. You’ve never been treated properly; and you probably would not have come willingly, had I simply knocked on that cottage door and invited you to come with me to my home. Since you’d been so thoroughly brainwashed to believe that toxic environments were safe, I had to use the only means you would understand, to convince you to be with me. And while I knew my actions would scare you at first, I trusted that you would eventually realize why I’d chosen to behave in such a manner. It has, of course, taken a long time for you to warm up to me. I understand the confusion and the pressure you must have felt, from the moment I first laid a hand on you. For that, I...sincerely apologize.”

“I—you...what?”

“I apologize,” James repeated. “I have never, ever wanted to hurt you—physically or emotionally. It tore me apart inside, to have to have been so forceful in bringing you here. But you must admit that, given how terribly you’d been treated up until that point, you had no way of knowing what was actually right for you; what was healthy. I am older and thus more experienced, and so I can see these facts more clearly. I anticipate that, over the years, you will mature to my level and arrive at the same conclusions. I love you and I only want what is best for you. What is best for both of us.”

Snow White’s mind suddenly felt like molasses. James’s words made perfect sense—and yet they didn’t. She could see how he would have felt the need to speak the only language she’d understood, when he’d forcibly taken her from the dwarfs’ cottage. He did know what was best for her, after all. Being twice her age, how could he not be more knowledgeable about relationships, and life in general? She would be arrogant and stupid to believe otherwise—especially given her sheltered upbringing. She’d never once left Grimhilde’s property, until the huntsman had bidden her to flee.

But how had James known what kind of environment she’d been raised in, before she’d told him about it? She supposed he’d been perceptive enough to figure it out, from having observed her speaking to the animals, after crying heavily on the forest floor. Yes, that must have been it. She had poured her heart out to those sweet creatures, hadn’t she! And yet, she had not been in any danger while staying with the dwarfs. Had James allowed her to stay with them, she probably would have remained safe from the Queen—right?

Something wasn’t quite adding up, but the princess lacked the cognitive ability to sort it all out. Her thoughts felt too muddled. Perhaps she would try again later.

She barely registered the rest of James’s story about his adventures in Neverland—there was something about a murderous fairy, a harrowing sword fight, and a hungry crocodile, but the girl couldn’t process any information beyond that. She nodded and made the appropriate sounds when James required a response, but she didn’t speak at all. Complete sentences were too hard to form.

*   *   *

Snow White felt unusually tired for the next few weeks. She had a hard time constructing complex sentences, in her mind or out loud. It was as if a cloud had settled inside her brain, slowing her thoughts as much as her movements. It had also become harder for her to grasp more advanced exercises at the piano. But James was always patient. He explained each new concept as many times as she needed, until she mastered the skill.

At least her body moved normally when James kissed her and stimulated her breasts, eliciting wave after wave of pleasure. His praise washed over like a soothing fountain, and she found herself craving more of it.

Which was why she did not protest when he told her they would be advancing another step forward in their relationship.

It was long overdue, he insisted, and any trepidation she felt was merely a byproduct of her terrible upbringing. She figured he was right. What did she know, anyway? Yes, she was technically an adult—she would be nineteen in less than three months—but her emotional maturity had been stunted by the way Grimhilde had raised her. The Queen had never taken care of her, the way James was doing.

They were lying in bed early in the evening—something very easy to do in the wintertime, with the sun setting in the late afternoon. The darkness inspired a desire for excessive relaxation.

And excessive fondling, apparently.

James had been kissing and stroking her torso for several minutes, after devouring her lips until they felt swollen. She was glad that he’d dimmed the bedroom light; that way, if she grew uncomfortable and her face gave her away, he wouldn’t be able to see that so clearly.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

“Yes,” she whispered, making a point to stroke his hair a few times for emphasis.

“Then lift up your hips.”

Once she’d obeyed, he slid her dress the rest of the way off, leaving her in nothing but her panties. Her breath hitched at the feel of his hand and hook slipping under them and sliding the fabric down her legs. Several protests swelled in her mind, but only half-formed; it was as if there was a wall inside her brain. A dam. A dark barrier preventing complete thoughts from materializing—only problematic thoughts, that is. Thoughts that would land her in trouble, should James discover them.

Fortunately for her, James would be discovering nothing except the delicate, musky treasure in between her legs. He gently pressed his arms against her inner thighs to coax them apart, only stopping when she moaned in pain, as he’d stretched her muscles too far. He wasn’t complaining, though, even as he pushed her thighs back together just a hair. Her gorgeous little legs were still spread wide.

With the princess bare before him, James once again struggled to control himself. Even in the low light, he could see the girl’s elegant pink folds glistening. He groaned from the effort of keeping his weeping erection in his pants. Hopefully, she would be ready for his cock tonight, after he’d worked her up for long enough. He took a deep breath, swallowed hard, and buried his face in between Snow White’s thighs.

He’d never considered himself a glutton. As a thin man who valued his health and fitness, the idea of over-indulging at mealtimes had always repulsed him.

But with the heady liquid aroma permeating his senses, he suddenly felt like a glutton. Had someone put a gun to his head, he would not have been able to tear himself away from this delicious feast. Especially given that the girl’s pubic hair was barely more than peach fuzz. This allowed him to more intimately explore her most private places. He licked and sucked with abandon, groaning like a man starved.

And he had been starved. He’d craved the girl’s flesh for months, waiting patiently until she was ready for him to take her. He couldn’t have waited another second. He had no self-control left. His reserves had run dry.

Holding Snow White’s thighs tightly in his arms, he drove his tongue deep inside her, opening his mouth wide and sucking greedily. The sounds of licking and slurping filled the room as the princess shuddered and moaned. Her responses only spurred him to push his face further in between her shaking legs. He slid his tongue in and out, licked her up and down, and even bit the sensitive skin occasionally. That always made her squeal.

“Ooooh! Ahh...oh...ohhh....”

If that squeal was the last sound James ever heard, he would die a happy man.

Squealing became loud keening when he spread her puffy lower lips and began rapidly flicking his tongue over her clitoris. He loved feeling the little nub swell and pulse in time with her heart beat, which was speeding up as he stimulated her with more vigor.

His cock throbbed painfully, aching for release. He could not believe this moment was finally here—though not yet sheathed inside her, he was well on his way. The girl’s resistance was gone.

He wondered if she was aware of how much wider she was spreading her legs, without any coaxing. How much her thighs were quivering in his arms. How much she was pressing her sex against his face, entirely of her own volition. How loudly she was whimpering and crying out, more and more until her hips began bucking wildly.

The scream that tore from her throat sent him over the edge as well. He rutted against the mattress and growled, while sucking hard on her clitoris, determined to drag out her orgasm for as long as possible. He imagined the vibrations from his voice were also adding to her pleasure.

Basking in the afterglow, he rested his face against her soft mound and relished her delectable scent. Her fluid was all over the lower half of his face, and he had no intention of wiping it off. Not for a long while. His trousers may have been a mess, but he was only getting started. His appetite was far from sated.

“Ahh...James, could you—”

“Shhh.”

Much to his chagrin, Snow White was trying to close her legs. It was completely unacceptable. The wanton little siren he’d just created was not going to crawl back into her shell of modesty. He’d worked too hard to bring her to this point.

He tightened his grip on her thighs and resumed licking her clitoris. Being far more sensitive now, the nub hardened much faster under his second assault. The princess was thrashing around, trying to move away from the relentless tongue that could not get enough of her taste. Her heels dug into the mattress and she began moving her legs at various angles as she tried to wriggle out of his grip. But he was too strong. Too determined. Too ravenous.

Snow White had enjoyed her first clitoral orgasm. She couldn’t find the words to describe it. She’d never known that her body was capable of producing such electrifying sensations! But after she’d stopped shaking, all she’d wanted was to settle back into the mattress and rest. For the most part, she was alarmed that James was ignoring her—both her squirming and her pleas for him to stop—but some part of her was really, really enjoying his behavior.

Oh goodness, to be wanted, she mused. To be craved...to have a man assert himself without my begging him to tell me how he truly feels....

Conflicting thoughts and emotions waged war inside her. No single one could gain an advantage. Therefore, the princess figured it would be best to follow James’s advice: Stop thinking. Just feel. Let your body take over. Don’t question what you should or shouldn’t do. Simply let it happen.

And so, as the man’s lips and tongue continued feasting on her throbbing flesh, that was exactly what she did.

Chapter Text

“Oh! Oh! Ohhhh!!”

Snow White’s hips bucked wildly for the fourth time that evening. The erotic sounds tearing from her throat were reminiscent of operatic vibrato. That seemed to drive James crazy as much as the pleasure he was delivering.

But it was too much for the young and inexperienced princess. She enjoyed the physical sensations; but she did not want them to continue without surcease, with her nether regions being on the verge of pain.

“Please! Please, stop! I can’t—”

Instead of stopping, James slung his left arm around her waist and pressed down hard, while passionately kissing her pubic area. She could still breathe, but her airway was restricted. This was not an optimal position, while she was struggling to catch her breath and calm herself. As panic set in, her lungs felt even more constrained. She thrashed with every ounce of strength she had left—which wasn’t much—until a sharp sting pierced her side.

The tip of James’s hook was digging into her flesh.

“Stop fussing,” he barked. “I told you to trust me.”

“But I do trust you! It’s just...it’s too much! I need to rest! It hurts a little bit...down there. Please—”

“I promised you that I know what’s best for you; you must put your faith in me.”

“I am! I just don’t want it to hurt.”

“You won’t know true pleasure until you surrender to me. Relax your body, trusting that I know how to touch it, and you will no longer feel pain. Your resistance is what’s causing your distress; not anything I’m doing. Now, keep those gorgeous legs spread. Wide.”

She complied, with her thighs shaking.

“Wider. I need to see you. I need access to every inch of your body. Do not deny me this treasure.”

Her eyes welled up. Her lower lip quivered. She bit back a whimper while spreading her thighs as far apart as they would go. She had no other choice.

James alternated licking and sucking her clitoris until she came again. Heavy pressure in the nub battled with the pulsing waves of pleasure overtaking her. She lost awareness of the sharp pain in her side, and the trickle of blood dripping onto the mattress. She couldn’t even verbalize how tired she was, from all the shaking and squealing.

But James wasn’t done. With her body still in the throes of orgasm, and his mouth still latched onto her clitoris, he plunged two fingers inside her.

Snow White screamed until her throat hurt—well, her throat would have hurt, had she been aware of any sensations beyond those in between her thighs. Her legs convulsed. Her hips bucked. Her mouth hung open in a perpetual wail. With her back and head arched, her forehead was pressed against the pillow. Her hands fisted in the blankets.

James did not relent.

Her core throbbed as her bedfellow pumped his fingers and massaged a particular spot deep inside her—which she’d never even known about, until now. The pleasure James wrung from her body could not be expressed in words. Her flesh was not her own. She’d been reduced to a puppet—an edible puppet, dancing to the dizzying rhythm of the captain’s fingers, lips, and tongue. Yes, her side was bleeding a bit; but James had only nicked her with his hook because he’d gotten too carried away. He wasn’t being malicious. Men often were prone to extreme arousal, anyway. Grimhilde had warned her about that. She resolved to be more understanding of the stronger sex. Especially this particular specimen of that sex, who simply could not get enough of her body.

While these new sensations terrified her, she also found that she quite liked some of James’s ministrations. Not all of them, but definitely some. His tongue was particularly skilled. It felt like hot velvet against her skin. And anyway, he’d promised that her resistance was only borne of stubbornness; so she assumed that she would eventually lose the urge to struggle against him. She’d never engaged with a man before, so of course she was bound to be a bit shy about her body’s responses.

She snuck a glance downward, and saw James licking his fingers one by one. The sight alarmed and embarrassed her, so she closed her eyes before he could catch her watching. That was a conversation she was not yet willing to have.

Having finally eaten his fill, the man licked his lips and climbed atop Snow White’s pliant form.

“Such a delicious girl,” he purred in her ear.

To her surprise, a blush crept up her cheeks, and even down her neck. The warmth of her flushed skin made her smile wryly to herself—she hadn’t blushed since her last interaction with the prince! This must have meant that she really was starting to get over him, and she was falling for James instead! A girl couldn’t blush while thinking about a partner she didn’t actually desire, now could she?

Oh, a victory. Finally. Finally.

“I love when you smile,” James cooed in her ear. “What’s on your mind, princess?”

Nervous excitement swelled inside her chest as she prepared to speak. How could she convey what she was feeling? How would James respond? Would he reward her?

“Tell me,” he urged.

She swallowed hard. “I think I’m—” After clearing her throat, which felt like sandpaper, she swallowed again. “I think I’m f-falling for you.”

James recoiled and flinched as if he’d been slapped. He rolled off of Snow White and stood up, folding his arms across his chest. His jaw quivered as he snarled.

“You think you’re falling for me? That’s it? You only think you are?! Bloody hell, girl!”

Suddenly feeling the chill in the air—or was that something else?—Snow White sat up and made to pull the blankets over her body. It had only just occurred to her that she was naked, while he was fully clothed. She felt like a mouse watching a hawk circling overhead.

James ripped the blankets from her shaking hands.

“Absolutely NOT!” he snapped. “First, you tell me that you only might be developing feelings for me, after I’ve told you how much I love you, over and over...and now, you dare to cover your body in my presence? After I just spent the last half hour with my face buried in between your legs? I gave you the greatest pleasure of your life—probably the only pleasure of your life—and this is how you repay me?!”

Snow White hung her head. Her face felt hot again—this time from burning shame. She willed the wetness in her eyes not to spill down her cheeks. Her left hip began to sting; she jumped while running her fingers over it. Only now did she discover that she did, in fact, have an open wound. How had she gone this long without realizing this?

James’s shoulders dropped when he saw her wince. “I apologize for that, Snow White. I got carried away. Hold on, let me dress that.”

He stalked into the bathroom and began rummaging around. As he busied himself gathering first-aid supplies, he tried to figure out how to communicate properly with the princess. He knew he’d overreacted; but at the same time, she should have started falling for him ages ago. It shouldn’t have taken until this very intimate moment for her to only consider that she might be returning his feelings. That made him worry that her only interest in him was confined to his sexual talents. He needed to address this with her; it was a serious problem. He would not be so blatantly used in such a fashion.

She did not look at him when he returned to the bedroom and sat down behind her, to clean and bandage the wound. A heavy silence settled over thm.

“So,” he began, keeping his voice even. “How did you arrive at this conclusion—that you are, perhaps, falling for me at last? I do hope it’s not just because I began pleasuring you tonight. Please tell me you’re not that selfish.”

“Well, it—it may have been happening already, before I was able to see it. I think you were right, though—I’d been too hung up on my...unrealistic fantasy of the prince. I’ve been thinking about that a lot, and I’ve had to acknowledge the fact that perhaps I never really knew him; I’d only wanted the potential I’d thought I’d seen in him.”

“I’m glad you’ve finally come to understand this. I saw that from the beginning.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long. I was childish. I may have even been...mentally ill. I suppose that mental illness could result from an upbringing like mine. Thank you for being so patient with me.”

James sighed. “You know, I could never quite grasp why you thought you’d loved this boy you barely ever spoke with, while so stubbornly refusing to at least try to fall in love with me: the man who has bent over backwards for you.”

“But I am t-trying! I’ve been trying. I p-promise!”

“I’m not sure you’re trying hard enough, quite frankly. I don’t understand why you loved Florian so much, when he did nothing to deserve it; but I do so much for you, and you still haven’t said ‘I love you’ yet. It hurts me more than you could possibly comprehend.”

Snow White gasped. A small tremor zipped through her, upon hearing Florian’s name spoken aloud. She’d grown so adept at thinking of him as the prince, or even that boy. Usually with a sassy bite to her voice. It had felt good to associate him with such negative words, to remind herself of how badly he’d treated her. The change in language had sown the seeds of her ability to move on.

But if her heart still clenched at the mere sound of his name, how much had she actually succeeded at getting over him?

Her stomach turned to water. She couldn’t afford to entertain such dangerous thoughts.

“I—I need the restroom, James. Will you excuse me for a moment?”

*   *   *

Snow White wanted to remain in the bathroom for a while, to keep away from James. His mention of the prince had terrified her more than anything else he’d said or done that evening.

She used the facilities, splashed some cold water on her face, and cleaned her nether regions. Being in a different room, with the door closed, granted her a small reprieve. But she knew that the longer she stayed in there, gripping the sink and trembling, the more suspicious her partner would become. The Florian conversation wasn’t over.

After padding back into the bedroom, she pressed her lips together in a sheepish attempt at a smile. James’s face remained stony. He regarded her like a father who had just caught his daughter in a serious lie.

“Sit,” he ordered, pointing to the spot in front of him, where he sat cross-legged on the bed. She obeyed.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Truly, I am. I’ve been trying so, so hard to be a good partner to you and forget F—the prince. It has been working, I promise.”

“To an extent, yes. I can see that. But considering how long we’ve been together—and how long it’s been since you last saw the boy, you should have made more progress by now.”

Snow White hastily wiped her eyes and stared at her feet. Goodness gracious, couldn’t he at least allow her to get dressed, before scolding her like a misbehaving little girl?

“He’s a womanizer,” James told her. “You remember me calling him that right after I first brought you home, yes?”

She nodded.

“You need to remember that, Snow White. He led you on. His intentions were not pure; not in the slightest. He didn’t deserve you. Why are you still hung up on him? Even a little bit?”

“I’m not hung up on him. It’s just...a lingering feeling, I suppose. We had—I mean, I thought we’d had a very special connection. He didn’t seem to be playing me.”

“But it doesn’t make any sense. How could you believe that you had a special connection with someone who only made the time to see you...three or four times annually? That was all, right? And he never invited you to his castle? He never introduced you to his friends? He only visited you when it was convenient, yes? You were so NOT a part of his life.”

Silence.

“Snow White, answer me.”

Silence.

“There’s something you’re not telling me. You’re a smart girl. While you are naïve, you’re not an imbecile. I can’t, for the life of me, understand why you have so desperately clung to this fantasy, just because of mere daydreams, and sporadic visits from the young lad. There’s something else, isn’t there?”

Though she’d only just run to the bathroom, her stomach began clenching once again. Her fingers twisted in the blankets as she deliberated whether or not to reveal the missing piece. The piece that she didn’t even want to think about anymore, much less discuss out loud.

“What is it. Tell me. Now.”

“It was—” A few tears fell. She could no longer hold them back.

“It was what, Snow White?!”

“The...the wishing well.”

Chapter Text

“What on Earth is a wishing well?” James spat.

“It’s a...it’s just a well, in the ground,” Snow White replied in a shaky, breathy voice. Her heart raced. Her fingers gripped the blanket. She couldn’t look at James.

“It’s more than that. Stop with these half-truths! What makes a wishing well so significant?”

“You...you stand over it and make a wish. If your voice echoes inside the well, that means the wish will come true. My stepmother has one in her kingdom. A lot of people use it.”

“Has it ever been wrong?”

“No. That’s why it’s so popular. If it were unreliable, people would have abandoned it long ago.”

“How do you know?”

“I heard people talking. They said that wishing wells are very rare and highly sought after.”

“Which people?”

“Grimhilde’s subjects. Couriers from nearby kingdoms. Other servants in the castle. They were always sad when their wishes didn’t come true; they tried bargaining with the wishing well, or phrasing their desires differently, but the well never gave false information.”

“And what did you wish for, dare I ask?”

Snow White began to shake. She couldn’t reveal this. She just...couldn’t. What if Captain Hook—James—lost his temper and attacked her? What if he tried to find Florian and—”

More tears.

James grabbed her chin and jerked her head up, forcing her to meet his gaze. “TELL ME!”

“I—I wished for the prince to find me that day, and say...nice things to me....”

She buried her face in her hands, unable to stop the flood of emotion pouring out of her. Her body convulsed as she sobbed.

“AND?! I know there’s more! It’s written all over your face!”

“And that—that we would have a s-stable relationship and s-spend our lives t-together.”

James looked as if enemy pirates had just taken control of his ship. A vein in his forehead twitched.

“I am not familiar with these...devices,” he offered after an agonizingly long moment. “But I find it very difficult to believe that they are foolproof. For God’s sake, just look at you. You made a wish, and the prince is nowhere to be seen. You’re with me; not him.”

“I know!”

“Could Grimhilde have tampered with the well, to make it tell you what you’d wanted to hear?”

“I—I did worry about that. I’ve never heard of such dark magic, but...you’re right. It didn’t seem realistic, based on the prince’s behavior. Grimhilde is...a very powerful witch.”

“And there you have it. The well lied to you. An open-and-shut case. Move on. Pining does not become you.”

“I’m not pining!”

“Yes, you are. And you need to stop. It’s emotional infidelity. There is simply no way this wishing well told you the truth. You must accept this.”

He was right. Of course he was. Grimhilde had always been looking for ways to torment her, as she’d often reminded herself while living under the Queen’s roof. And what better way to torture her, than to toy with her mind and give her false hope about the only person who had ever stolen her heart?

Snow White had spent three years worrying that Grimhilde would discover her secret meetings with Florian, and then punish them both. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized that her stepmother’s tampering with the wishing well would cause far more lasting damage. If Florian really was a womanizer, she would never receive any closure around him. And so hearing good news from the wishing well would only further tether her to a lifetime of wondering, hoping, crying, and trying to figure out the truth about the prince.

James has always been clear about his intentions, she reminded herself. Florian never was. You really, really need to forget him. As soon as possible. It’s been OVER THREE YEARS. This childish infatuation is getting ridiculous.

“There there, now,” James soothed, running his hand down Snow White’s arm. “I’m not trying to upset you. But sometimes the truth hurts. That doesn’t mean we should avoid telling it, however. I’m forcing you to confront this issue because I care about you. I can’t stand to see you wasting your life, emotionally trailing after this boy who doesn’t give a rat’s arse about you. You deserve so much better than him—and he doesn’t deserve a girl with even half your value. He is nothing. I cherish you so much more than he ever did. And I will continue to remind you of this, for as long as it takes you to believe it.”

Snow White sniffled. “Thank you. I appreciate your patience. I know I’m not the easiest person to be with, given my lack of experience in such matters, but—”

“It’s all right, love. I can tell that this is a difficult truth for you to swallow. Perhaps I can...take your mind off things?” He waggled his eyebrows.

She blushed and laughed nervously. “Oh my goodness—again? I thought you’d had enough for tonight.”

“My dear, I will never have enough. Truly, I could eat you for hours.”

“Hours?!” she squeaked. “You could do that for...hours?”

“Indeed. Especially when you squeal like that. The sound goes right through me. Now, lie down. My mouth is watering at the mere thought of tasting you again.”

Snow White grinned wryly as she followed James’s instructions. She had to admit: lingering heartache or not, it was hard to be in a foul mood when her partner was uttering such declarations. She’d never thought of herself in lascivious terms. And deep in the pit of her soul, she knew she liked it.

This time, she offered no resistance at all when James pried her legs apart and began lapping at her center. He swirled his tongue around inside her, trying to catch every drop of her essence as she grew more and more aroused. She moaned more enthusiastically than she’d done before, when his mouth found her clitoris. It also helped that he wasn’t quite so frantic; it felt like he was actually worshipping her. He kissed the nub slowly, the way he often kissed her lips—mouth parted slightly, tongue gently massaging, languidly licking and sucking. It made her thighs quiver.

He increased the pressure after her orgasm, flicking his tongue rapidly to bring on another release. And then another. This was the part she wasn’t sure she liked or not—she had absolutely zero control over her body in such a state—but she trusted that James was acting in her best interests. He wanted her to feel like a goddess, instead of an afterthought.

She had only been an afterthought to Florian. He’d never really wanted her.

The princess seized up as another pang lanced through her heart.

“What’s wrong, dear?” James asked.

It felt strange to Snow White, having him speak while his lips were pressed against her aching folds. She squirmed. It was hard to think about forming words when being kissed in such an intimate place.

“Are you all right, princess?” Another lick.

“Oh!” she squeaked. “Yes, I’m—ohhhh....”

He alternated between laving at her labia, and flicking his tongue up and down her clitoris. She liked that a lot, she decided. The long, slow strokes of his tongue allowed her a break from the more intense sensations. She even found herself relaxing.

James was not relaxing. Jealous rage was boiling inside him, and it was dangerously close to spilling over. He wondered how many times he would have to make Snow White come until she finally forgot about the stupid prince.

He would never tell her, but he was petrified that the wishing well had been correct. Just because Florian was far away now, did not mean that he could not someday find a way to free the princess. It was highly unlikely; but if this object was foolproof, then he would not possess Snow White forever.

The thought chilled him to the bone. The mental image of Snow White in Florian’s arms made him want to murder an entire village, just to feel some degree of power. He did not feel powerful in the face of a bias-free magical object that could not tell a lie.

Had the Queen found a way to bewitch the well and make it tell Snow White what she’d wanted to hear? He hoped so. He prayed to anything and anyone on high, that Snow White would be his prized possession for life. His partner. His bedfellow. His bride.

She was his. She belonged to Captain James Hook; not Prince Florian Whatshisname. And she needed to know that, unequivocally.

His hunger for her flesh grew. He needed to bury himself inside her, in whatever way he could. As he licked her up and down, he began opening his mouth wider and sticking his tongue out farther, to taste more of her at once. When the tip of his tongue reached the hole below her folds, she squeaked and wriggled her hips.

“You like that, do you?” His tongue teased the hole once again.

“Oh!” Another squeal. “I—I’m not s-sure! It—well, it feels a bit...strange—”

“You’ll get used to it.”

Before she could even consider how to reply, he flipped her over onto her stomach and buried his face in between her cheeks.

“Ohhhh!”

God, that sound would undo him.

She squirmed a bit more, until he grazed her side with his hook. He didn’t want to mar her perfect skin again, but he was also growing tired of her rebelliousness. Thankfully, that one slight prick of his hook did the job. She went limp. That allowed him to spread her cheeks and press his tongue more firmly against the puckered hole, digging in relentlessly until it began to open up.

His hand squeezed her behind and roved up and down her back as he licked. He wasn’t sure if this would drive her to another climax, but he needed to at least try. He needed to invade every inch of her body, so she would never forget who she belonged to.

He groaned in satisfaction as his tongue slid deeper and deeper inside, now able to swirl around and stretch her out a bit. Given the sounds the princess was making, she was probably feeling pleasure in spite of herself.

She would never have asked him to do this to her. He was certain that she would never have even dreamed of asking anyman to do this to her. But it didn’t matter. He needed to teach her a lesson as much as he needed to devour her body for his own gratification. No matter what was meant to happen between them in the end, he knew he would be the only man to ever touch her there. She’d carry that knowledge with her for the rest of her life.

As if he had spoken his crude words aloud, Snow White knew in her bones that she was in the midst of a life-altering experience. The pressure she’d felt, to let James touch her pubic area, had dissolved when she’d come to terms with the fact that oral sex was a normal part of relationships. So it had been bound to happen to her eventually. And it did feel nice. Sometimes. She could tolerate that. It was part of her obligation as a dutiful partner. However, anal stimulation was widely viewed as shameful. Repulsive. Taboo. And Snow White could understand why. The sensation made her whole body want to seize up, with her face locked in a permanent grimace.

If anyone ever found out what James was doing to her right now, the names they would call her....

And yet, she hadn’t wanted him to penetrate her back there. She hadn’t wanted anything James had done to her since he’d snatched her from the dwarfs’ cottage. But no one would care, if they learned that James was currently shoving his tongue up in her most private entrance—which she’d always thought was meant to be an exit point instead. Having her rectum treated as an entryway felt so wrong on so many levels. She wished to invert her entire body somehow, and push James out so he couldn’t get back in.

She’d worked so hard to fall for this man, and appreciate all the intimate ways he expressed his love for her, even when his actions felt violating. But this particular behavior felt too intrusive to be loving. The princess felt probed. Dissected. Ripped apart. Like she was but a doll to be torn open and then roughly sewn back together by a morbidly curious child with a pathological sense of entitlement.

Her needs didn’t matter; her feelings didn’t matter. Her body was not a sovereign entity—which was nothing new, she reminded herself. Since her early childhood, she’d felt as though she existed purely to make other people’s lives easier, and she’d always known that she would’ve caused a cataclysm if she ever advocated for herself. Animals loved her, sure. Because she sang to them and showered them with affection. And those dwarfs had enjoyed her company...but only because she’d taken on all the chores they had been too lazy to complete. They would not have permitted her to stay with them, had she not proven herself useful. And easy to get along with. And nice to look at.

No one had ever honored that which would have made her life easier. Was she, in fact, a good person, if voicing her basic needs sent people close to her into fits of rage? Was that why she had to try so, so, so hard to not be selfish, and to always prioritize James’s happiness and convenience? Were her needs actually character flaws? Good people seemed to effortlessly command respect, and their needs were treated as sacred. But Snow White’s needs had never been met. Not without someone complaining or throwing tantrums about how hard she was to please. She had never felt valued by anyone, unless she bit her tongue and contorted herself around their expectations.

Perhaps this sexual experience was what she deserved, for being so complicated and difficult. Maybe giving her body to whomever wanted it, in whatever way they wanted it, was the only way she could redeem herself. It appeared that her beauty was all she had to offer the world, outside of her cleaning and musical skills. So she figured that, if people ever did find out about James’s actions on this night, they would have every right to call her a slut. She sure felt as dirty as one—having to engage sexually with James in exchange for free food and lodging. But that was her own fault. She would naturally be more appreciative of her good fortune, if her needs and desires weren’t so ludicrous.

She really did need to practice gratitude for James. The man had the patience of a saint.

And regardless of his feelings about her receptivity, James was quite happy to continue eating her alive. He buried his face in deeper, nuzzling the inside of her sumptuous cheeks. He hoped his mustache was tickling her delicate hidden flesh, titillating her as much as his lips and tongue.

While he enjoyed the way her body was moving, she wasn’t as responsive as he needed her to be. He withdrew briefly and slipped his arms around her waist, to pull her up until she was on her knees—now, her back was arched with her bottom in the air, like a stretching cat. And her dripping folds were in full view. It was one of the most mouthwatering sights he’d ever seen.

Especially since she was making no move to change positions or cover herself. She was learning. Finally.

Once more invading her anus with his tongue, he reached around and began massaging her clitoris. That got him the reaction he wanted. She unwittingly pressed her behind even more firmly against his face as her hips bucked. He fondled the nub until another wave of pleasure crested, and then fell. He delighted in the way her hole clenched around his tongue when her body spasmed.

While the princess struggled to catch her breath, he draped his left arm over her arched back, to keep her still. His hook wasn’t touching her skin, but that could change in a split-second if she tried to squirm out from under him.

Continuing to move his tongue inside her rear entrance, he slipped two fingers into her slick heat. And then three. She screamed into the pillow. Had he still possessed his left hand, he would have reached up and grabbed her hair, to force her head up. He wanted to hear every sound she made, unmuffled. Unbridled. Echoing off the God-damned walls.

He also wanted to stroke his cock some more, since it had grown painfully hard once again. Alas, there was only so much he could do with one hand. Frustration mixed with arousal as he pumped and curled his fingers inside the princess, moving relentlessly until she came yet again.

This time, he did not wait for her body to stop gyrating. He returned his fingers to the quivering bundle of nerves, rubbing up and down, side to side, and in quick circles, while his tongue kept delving deep. Clitoral stimulation affected her the most, he realized, and he was going to take full advantage of that. He would rub that little button until it was numb.

Being partly restrained, with James’s arm slung over her torso, Snow White could only gyrate her hips up and down as she climaxed. Feeling her pert cheeks rubbing on his face, while her cunt gushed all over his hand, sent him over the edge. He growled against her quivering hole, sinking his teeth in as he spilled inside his pants. For the second time that night. Oh, the indignity. But at least he barely noticed in the heat of the moment, being more preoccupied with the luscious princess he was devouring.

He wasn’t sure, but she may have been crying into the pillow.

“You want more, love?” he purred.

“Is it...all right if that’s...enough for tonight, James?” she whimpered.

“Of course. You rest now. I’ll go clean up.”

After planting a kiss to her bottom, he stood up and padded into the bathroom.

She would need to be ready for him to penetrate her soon, or there would be severe consequences. It wasn’t fair of her to string him along like this. He’d waited long enough. And now that he knew what she tasted like—in both entrances—he wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer.

*   *   *

Though James had told her not to think too much, Snow White’s mind was racing again as she tried to fall asleep. It felt like her thoughts had been transformed into a book, and someone was flipping the pages too quickly for her to read more than a few words at a time.

James. Florian. James. Florian. James. Florian.

She enjoyed being stimulated by the former, but she still had feelings for the latter. James was the only man who had concretely stated his intentions toward her, and then followed through; but the wishing well had told her that she was destined to be with the prince.

Was James correct, however? Could Grimhilde have manipulated the well, or had her partner only made this claim because he was anxious and jealous? She had no way of knowing. And that’s what was killing her. She’d thought wishing wells were infallible.

She’d also thought that loving, caring men would never inspire fear in a woman.

But James wasn’t the only man who had terrified her. Florian had scared her as well. He had scared her with his flighty behavior; and she had, in turn, scared herself with her over-the-top reactions to him. James really had made a good point: her pining was shameful and immature, just as it had been since the day she’d met the prince. At this stage, it was likely that she was only still enamored with Florian because she had no solid answers about him. It was his air of mystery that kept her tethered to him. No—tethered to her fantasy of him.

Her fantasy of him had kept her company more than his physical presence. She needed to remember that.

It suddenly occurred to her that she had spent more time with James in four months than she’d spent with Florian in three years. And while their relationship was far from perfect, she could admit that she enjoyed being doted on, taught to play an instrument, and stimulated until her body shook. The future was uncertain, but fretting about potential outcomes would only invite in more pain. She needed to remain present. And stop thinking so hard, of course.

As she regarded the man sleeping next to her, a swell of emotion warmed her heart. He was flawed, like any man. Like any person. Florian’s imperfections had caused her years of heartache; while James’s had merely...confused her. She had to acknowledge that it was much less stressful, being with someone who was actually clear about his intentions.

She drifted off to images of both the prince and the captain flitting through her mind.

Chapter Text

Snow White kept her eyes closed long after she awoke. She wasn’t ready to accept what had happened in that very bed, not ten hours earlier. She could barely even stand to think the words necessary to describe the experience. And she certainly couldn’t look at the man who had instigated it all.

“Unnhhh. Unnhh. Fuck. Ahh....”

Low grunts came from inside the bathroom. Snow White’s stomach knotted with guilt. She may have grown up sexually repressed, but she knew what James was doing. And she knew that he was only doing it because she had rebuffed him. Again. She had driven him into a frenzy of desire, and yet he still had the patience to wait until she was ready for more.

She was grateful that he was respecting her wishes—but she was also afraid that he would harm her if she put him off for much longer. Given how well she’d responded to his oral stimulation, she figured she’d be ready for the final act shortly. She had to be. This procrastination was getting her nowhere, and only riling up her partner. The strain between them was growing so thick, she found it difficult to breathe.

If this was what sexual tension felt like, it was no wonder it turned James into an animal.

The captain was quiet for most of the day. He cooked her breakfast, allowed her to sit near him as he played the piano, and gave her the necessary materials to repair her ripped dress, but he barely looked at her. His face bore a perpetual scowl, and there was a faraway look in his eyes.

And she knew it was all her fault.

She had given him a taste of everything he’d been craving for months, only to deny him that which he had wanted the most. Would it really have been that big a deal, to have allowed him to penetrate her? He’d already done so with his tongue. What was so intimidating about him using his—

Why couldn’t she have just loosened up and turned off her mind?

She was relieved that he opted to skip her piano lesson that day. Concentration would have been impossible.

Exhausted as she was, having slept terribly the night before, she went to bed early. Not long after 5pm. Of course she was too anxious to actually fall asleep, but she tried. She was also grateful to be out of James’s immediate proximity for just a little while.

He entered the bedroom two hours later. Her eyes darted back and forth between him and the bed, as he climbed in next to her.

“I want you,” he whispered in her ear, while snaking his hand in between her legs.

“Do you...want to do what we did last night, or—”

“You know what I want,” he growled. “I’ve wanted it for months. Are you ready, or will you force me to wait even longer?”

Snow White’s heart thumped heavily. This was it. She had to make a decision.

“C-can we...wait until tomorrow?” she stammered.

He glowered.

“It’s—tomorrow’s New Year’s Eve! It could be a nice way to celebrate, you know?”

She breathed a loud sigh when he nodded.

A New Year’s celebration? How did I come up with that? Wow. That was a good one.

She almost giggled with relief, that her suggestion had bought her another twenty-four hours. That was all she needed: just one more day to really, really force herself to get comfortable with the idea of losing her virginity.

As James unzipped her dress and went to work, she made herself picture a man and a woman in explicit positions—as if she were watching from a few feet away, rather than experiencing those acts herself. Surprisingly, the mental images increased her arousal. That seemed a good omen. And she really did enjoy the feel of James’s tongue lapping at her quivering bud. The sounds of licking and sucking were also rather delightful.

She wished someone had taught her about all of this when she was a bit younger. Then, maybe, she wouldn’t be currently wrestling with a thick layer of embarrassment on top of her arousal. Between the lascivious visuals now imprinted on her mind and her reactions to James, she hardly recognized herself anymore.

“What’s going on in that incessantly whirring mind of yours?” he drawled.

She hadn’t even noticed him licking his lips and then lying down next to her, to wrap his arm around her shoulders. Goodness, why was it getting harder and harder for her to remain present these days?

A nip on her neck brought her back to reality once again.

“I’m just—well, this may sound silly, but...no one really talked about...this...when I was growing up.”

“Ah, yes. It’s frightfully common for girls. They don’t understand their own bodies, they’re afraid of becoming aroused...and they obviously have no understanding of male anatomy.” He stroked the tent in his trousers, for emphasis.

Snow White blushed.

“Shall I...give you a lesson? I can get you up to speed rather quickly, if you’re open to it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’d like to show you something.” He began unbuttoning his pants.

She gasped. “I—I don’t know, James. I’m....”

“Embarrassed? Scared? Unsure of yourself?”

“I—”

“All of the above?”

She nodded sadly, averting her eyes.

“Now now, there’s nothing to worry about, love. No one is judging you. No one is watching. It’s just you and me. Breathe.” He kissed her forehead. “Relax.”

Her heart pounded as she watched James finish loosening his trousers. She wanted to see his manhood, but she also didn’t. It felt too personal. Even more personal than the previous night’s activities.

He stood up to divest himself of his clothing. She envied his confidence. Oh, why was she still feeling so insecure? James had licked her most private places extensively, without shame, and somehow she remained cringingly uncomfortable with all of this. What a failure she was. It almost made her cry.

Shoving down her distressing emotions, she focused on admiring the taut contours of the captain’s body. He was long and lean, with chiseled muscles. A life of piracy inspired a fierce dedication to physical fitness, she supposed.

And the bulge in between his legs was—oh my. It was...how would it fit?

He chuckled at her gaping mouth. “You’ve never seen a cock before, have you.”

“No,” she whispered.

She watched in fascination as he wrapped his fingers around the organ and began stroking it up and down, groaning. Nausea clenched her stomach, and yet she couldn’t tear her eyes away. She was especially fixated on the beads of clear liquid that formed at the very top, which he spread over the throbbing length as he pumped harder. Harder. Harder. Faster. His breathing grew harsher. His brows knitted together. His lips parted.

“UUUNNNHHHH!”

White fluid burst into his hand and his hips jutted upward. He continued stroking his length until it...deflated. That was the only way she could describe it. How strange! The male anatomy really was far outside her realm of understanding. She might require further explanation about what had just transpired.

She also couldn’t believe that she, alone, had inspired a man to behave in such a way. Part of her found the notion flattering; but her fear, guilt, and trepidation were stronger than the faint whisps of positive emotion flitting around her heart—she had no desire to touch James down there. And she knew she never would, until he asked her to do so. She just couldn’t. And she was too afraid to ask herself why.

“Now it’s your turn,” he murmured.

“What?” she squeaked.

“I’m going to show you how to stimulate yourself. Oh, stop being so embarrassed—no one taught you this. No one taught you how to appreciate your own body. It’s not your fault. And I consider it an honor, to be the one tasked with this responsibility. Now: remember that little spot where I flicked my tongue?”

Snow White nodded.

“Do that with your own fingers, and you’ll achieve the same result. Here, I’ll show you.”

He took her right hand and guided it in between her legs. She gasped. Were her fingers always that cold?

Slowly and patiently, James showed her how to give herself pleasure. He taught her the names of each body part in between her thighs, and how to touch them all. As mortified as she was, she was endlessly grateful that he did not judge her ignorance. Not even a little bit. No eyerolls, no sighs of exasperation, no incredulous looks or snide comments about how little she knew of her own form. Just a patient tone, a calm voice, and a guiding hand.

“Thaaat’s it,” he whispered, when she figured out the right amount of pressure to apply to her clitoris. Her mouth opened and her legs spread wider.

“Keep going,” he encouraged. “Bring yourself to orgasm. God, you’re so beautiful.”

She followed an impulse to rub a bit harder as the pressure built deep inside of her, and little moans escaped her parted lips.

Though she enjoyed the sensations, she was very self-conscious about having James watch. Had it been up to her, he would have left the room while she became acquainted with her body, in private. But since he would never acquiesce to such an outrageous request, she settled with keeping her eyes closed. That way, she could focus on what was happening in between her legs, and block out everything else.

Her orgasm was not as strong as the ones James had given her, but she did enjoy it. Perhaps she would do this once in a while, if the urge struck her when James was out. She’d never considered masturbating before—but now that she knew how incredible it felt, the activity would be on her mind a lot more, from now on.

Feeling warm wetness on her hand, her eyes flew open. James was sucking the fluid from her fingers.

It took every ounce of her self-control not to recoil—because she’d never seen such a brazen act, and because she would never do such a thing herself. It had been an unexpected sight; that was all. It wasn’t that she was too overwhelmed by James’s fixation on her. And she certainly wasn’t repulsed. Those days were behind her. Her behavior the previous night had shown her that.

And besides, if she really had not fallen for James, she would not have wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he climbed atop her and began kissing her breasts. A rather lovely sensation. His lips were full and soft, and he always knew exactly where to touch her. He knew her body better than she did.

His hand slithered in between her legs once again, and he slid two fingers inside. His thumb rubbed her clitoris, in tandem with his tongue on her nipples. After only five minutes, she fell apart in his arms.

She would never tell him, but she was relieved that he withdrew after giving her just one orgasm. A repeat performance of the previous evening might well leave her with brain damage.

“I’ve turned you into a little vixen,” he said, licking his fingers clean again. This time, she forced herself to watch. The queasiness was still there, but it seemed farther away somehow. This was significant progress. She was getting better at embracing normal sexual behaviors.

I’m not sure how much of a vixen I’ll be tomorrow night, but I’ll try my best, she thought.

As James walked into the bathroom to clean up, she ran through the list of acts she knew would be performed on New Year’s Eve. In her mind, she rehearsed all the sounds she would make, the way she would position her arms and legs, and what facial expressions she should display. How much eye contact would be acceptable? Would it be all right if she kept her eyes closed most of the time—not to ignore James; simply to focus on the physical sensations? How heavily was she supposed to breathe? If she only moaned a little bit, rather than screaming and squealing, would James accuse her of thinking too much? Not trying hard enough to turn her mind off? Would he call her a prude?

She enjoyed the stimulation more when James was behind her, or burying his face in her neck, or looking at her body instead of her face. If she closed her eyes in those moments, he had no idea. She wasn’t sure why, but she found it profoundly easier to engage with him when she didn’t have to look at him.

When she tried to contemplate this troubling fact, it was as if a wall went up in her mind, and her body filled with dread. Her lungs felt constricted. She worried that she might suffocate.

For the time being, it was best to shove all of that into the darkest recesses of her psyche. And hopefully, tomorrow night, James would turn the light off.

Chapter Text

Snow White awoke to a kiss on her cheek. And then another on her jaw. And one on her neck. Her breath hitched. Was James really going to take her virginity right now, first thing in the morning? She thought she’d have the rest of the day to prepare herself! She hadn’t even been awake for two minutes, and he was already—

“Morning, love,” James murmured in her ear, his voice sending shivers down her spine. “How’d you sleep?”

“All right.”

“Only all right? I thought I’d tired you out enough for you to begin your slumber rather quickly. Should I wear you out even more tonight?”

She forced herself to inhale when his hand rubbed her breasts and traveled down her stomach. Being worn out was the last thing she wanted. What she needed, more than anything, was a chance to catch her breath.

“I...well, it was a lot last night. I’ve never experienced anything like that before, and my mind has felt like it’s been running around in circles since we finished.”

It was true. The previous night had been monumental. Snow White was still processing the magnitude of James’s sexual desire for her, and how easily he’d elicited his preferred responses from her body. And then there was the fact that, after he’d taught her how to masturbate, she’d slept naked next to him for the first time. It disturbed her that, even after having been with James for so long, she was not yet sure how she felt about these perfectly natural—and expected—behaviors. She barely felt the fingers trailing across her torso, and the teeth nipping at her neck.

“You’ll adjust. One’s first sexual experience is always a big deal—whether with another person or alone. Just know that you were an absolute delight yesterday; you’ve nothing to worry about.”

A wave of relief flooded through Snow White as James got out of bed and began his morning routine. Now that he was fully clothed, she realized that she would not be expected to perform the final act that very moment. She still had time. Not much, but it was better than nothing.

She released the breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding.

James had told her that he’d never cared much for holiday cheer; New Year’s Eve was just another day. But now, she was giving him a reason to feel merrier than he’d done in years. In fact, she’d never seen him quite so happy. He walked with a spring in his step as he cooked and cleaned and played the piano. That made the princess feel safer; James was always easier to be around when he was in a good mood. He became so absorbed in his joviality, she could withdraw into herself more than normal, and not worry too much about the consequences. He had withdrawn into himself as well—but for different reasons. And she knew full well the contents of his filthy mind.

Just like the previous night, Snow White ran through her checklist of everything she would need to do, say, and feel when James took her to bed. The time moved so quickly, she felt that only one hour had passed and it was already suppertime.

“Are you sure you’re not hungry?” James asked, tickling her side. She’d been moving her food around her plate with her fork, and only nibbling occasionally. The meal tasted like leather.

“Not really, no. I’m sorry. I promise your cooking is wonderful, as always. I just don’t have much of an appetite today.”

“You’ll need your strength for tonight, dear. I can’t have you passing out while I’m ravishing you; the object of intercourse is for both parties to enjoy themselves.”

He rubbed her back, trying to soothe her. Though she appreciated his intent, she could feel his underlying frustration and impatience with her. And his arousal, of course. His hand grazed the top of her behind as much as it drew lazy circles on her back.

She’d eaten a third of her plate, and she could handle no more. James begrudgingly accepted this. After putting her plate in the fridge for later, he returned to the table and held out his hand to her. There was no mistaking the look in his eyes.

This was it.

Her hands shook as he led her into the bedroom. She wished to freeze time for just another few minutes, so she could brace herself a little bit better. But time only seemed to speed up again, instead.

James kissed her slowly while reaching around to unzip her dress. Though he’d already done this several times before, the motion now felt strangely foreign to Snow White. Her stomach filled with dread. This moment was not like the past several evenings, during which she’d known that it was safe to tell James when to stop. She’d never even seen his bare body until after he’d disrobed her several times; that had made his ministrations feel somewhat removed. But now, she’d put him off long enough, and he was no longer able to wait. He had needs. She had been denying him for far longer than was fair. As his partner, she had a duty to uphold.

She was determined to enjoy it. Sure, his organ looked too big to fit inside her; but he’d promised that her body would adjust to his rather...impressive length. Especially after his tongue had repeatedly brought her over the edge and rendered her soaked. He spent plenty of time lapping at her before removing his own clothes.

“The most important thing is for you to relax,” he told her as he wrapped her legs around his back. “If your muscles are too tight, I may indeed have trouble moving inside you. Now, take a deep breath.”

She attempted to comply, but it felt more like the trembling inhalation that preceded a crying fit.

“No, no, not like that,” he sighed. Reaching in between her legs, he rubbed his manhood up and down her swollen folds. “Breathe slowly. Deeply—yes, that’s it.”

The second she exhaled, he pushed inside her. She screamed, feeling like she was being split in half. The tension she’d just released instantly returned. Tears sprang to her eyes.

“Ouch!” she protested. “Oh...oh, no, please, I can’t—”

“Just give it a moment. I promise it will start to feel good soon.” He stroked her face and kissed her forehead.

After a few agonizing minutes, James was able to move within her. He thrust gently at first, and only picked up the pace when her whimpers became gasps and moans of pleasure.

“That’s it. That’s a good girl. God, you’re so tight. So wet. So perfect for me.”

Was she supposed to thank him for his praise? She wasn’t sure, so she settled with moaning louder in response. He smiled.

Despite how anxious she was, Snow White realized that she enjoyed being called good and perfect. To show her appreciation, she made sure to keep her eyes locked on James’s, with her hands firmly planted on his shoulders; she knew he craved her touch as much as he craved her body.

Her eyes closed the moment he buried his face in her neck: she no longer had to look at him. She could now focus on the physical sensations alone, without having to think about their source. Relief flooded her heart.

Until Florian’s face flashed through her mind.

Only for a split second, of course. Still, she did not welcome the image.

Oh, go away! she scolded him inside her head. And he did. She felt so proud of herself. She must have been close to getting over him at last!

And with James wrapping her tightly in his loving embrace, thrusting hard inside her, and whispering over and over how special and perfect she was, how could she even consider worrying about the wishing well? Why would she want to waste another second of her energy, agonizing over a magical device that Grimhilde had surely manipulated? The ripples of pleasure coursing through her center were far more appealing than wallowing in a childish infatuation.

James was the man she belonged with. James was the man who had never shied away from expressing his feelings, even when those feelings were big and scary. James was the man who had upended his entire life just to spend time with her—as much time as possible. What had the prince ever done for her? Oh, well, he’d sung her a song that he’d probably learned somewhere...and only after three years of beating around the bush. Three years of toying with her heart, and giving her shallow excuses for why he couldn’t make more time for her.

Goodness, what a fool she’d been. She definitely had loved her fantasy of the prince more than the boy himself. The potential she’d thought she’d seen had been but a byproduct of her emotional starvation. Her dreams of that potential were only stronger than her feelings for James because there was no anticipation with her partner; no mystery. No thrill of the chase.

Her first time had been...pleasant. She’d climaxed twice while James had been inside her, and moaned a lot louder than she’d thought she would. They seemed to fit together rather well, in their shared movements and vocalizations. Her inner walls had fluttered every time he had kissed her. Caressed her. Praised her.

But something was missing. There was a hole inside her heart. Was it the lack of mystery, which had always accompanied the prince? Were her expectations too high, since she had no prior reference point for intercourse—or even kissing? Were her desires unrealistic? She thought that fornication was supposed to feel natural and lighthearted. It was supposed to be exciting; not a nerve-wracking obligation that was difficult to fulfill without conscious effort. But perhaps that was her prudishness talking. James kept telling her how sexually repressed she was. That was the most plausible explanation for her lack of ecstatic enjoyment.

After coming down from his own climax, James smiled and gazed deeply into Snow White’s eyes. When she looked back at him, she saw nothing but love. He was unashamed of his admiration for her. She enjoyed his directness—something the prince had always lacked. Offensively so. That boy really needed to grow up. He didn’t deserve to be called a man.

“How was that for you?” James asked. He was still inside the princess, and seemed loath to change that.

“It was nice,” Snow White sighed, making sure to smile brightly. “It...hurt at first; but I promise I enjoyed it after the pain began to dull.”

“Of course! That makes perfect sense. No need to worry. I’ve heard that a girl’s first time is not quite as pleasant as future encounters, given the stretching and bleeding—”

“Bleeding??”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I forgot to mention that.”

Her eyes welled up. Her face suddenly felt very cold.

“Shh, shh. It’s all right. Ugh, this is all my fault. I feel terrible.”

“What’s all your fault?”

“I forgot to tell you about the hymen.”

He described the barrier that broke during a girl’s first sexual encounter, and assured Snow White that the resulting bleeding was normal. The princess relaxed a bit, but still found the concept disturbing. She’d never liked blood. And so she was immensely grateful that James retrieved a cloth and cleaned up the mess, preventing her from having to look at it. He conceded that the stain on the blanket may require a few washes to remove, but it would fade eventually.

His attentiveness prompted her to fully relax—for the first time in days. I did something right! she told herself. She may have grown up shy and repressed, but she had made such impressive strides in recent weeks. James would not be showering her with care and concern if she had performed badly.

She fell asleep in his arms, with a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. She felt mature and accomplished. And if James was correct, that she would find sex more enjoyable now that her hymen had broken, then she couldn’t wait to see how much more her behavior would improve over time. Her stupid fixation on the prince would soon be a thing of the past.

Chapter Text

James had taken Snow White almost every evening since the new year began. His prediction had been correct: she was enjoying their couplings more, absent her hymen. The bleeding stopped after a few days, and soreness had now given way to pleasure. He was immensely grateful for this.

He’d been concerned about how receptive the princess was going to be; but after seeing how easily she’d given in to him, a swell of affection had burst forth and motivated him to nurture her more than normal. He cleaned her up after every encounter, pleasured her in a variety of ways each night, and frequently reminded her of how precious she was. And of course he made sure that she ate enough. Even if she claimed to be full after her meals, she was starting to lose a bit of weight, and he didn’t want it to get out of hand. She was already such a tiny girl, as it was.

One thing bothered him, however: she never initiated any type of physical behavior with him. Not one kiss, not a single caress of his face, not even a casual embrace.

But what he really desired was some oral reciprocation.

He had been eating her out for weeks. Almost two months, to be exact. And while he enjoyed the activity immensely—her essence had quickly become his favorite taste—he rather resented that she was not offering him the same gratification. She’d never even tried to touch his cock, for God’s sake. Did she think that sex, for a girl, was just lying on her back and expecting her partner to do all the work? Sexual repression was one thing; but self-absorption and lack of effort were different. Why was Snow White being so selfish?

“There’s something I’d like to talk to you about,” he told her one evening in late January, while closing the piano. Though he’d known that he should have been focused on her hands while teaching her, he’d been rather preoccupied with her mouth instead.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I’ve been very patient with you, as you know. I understand that you grew up with no opportunities to explore your sexuality and figure out how to express it with men—but we’ve been together for several months now, and you have not once offered to please me.”

“To...please you? What do you mean?”

His eyebrows knitted together. You’re not THAT daft, are you? he thought as he stepped in closer and took her hand. Do I really have to spell it out?

The princess trembled when he moved her hand to the apex of his thighs, and made her press down against his bulge. “I want you to put your mouth on me. The way I’ve been doing for you. For almost two months, Snow White. That’s not right.”

“I’m sorry, J-James,” she sighed. “I just...I wasn’t sure what to do, and I didn’t want to risk...making a mistake, you know?”

He wanted to slap her perfect pale face—which suddenly looked even more pale than usual, for some stupid reason. Of course the little prude would look physically ill at the suggestion of reciprocating even half of his affections. He needed to set her straight.

“So, you could have asked me to show you how, silly girl. I explained to you how your own body works, remember? You really think I would judge you for not understanding mine?”

The princess hung her head.

“Come now, that’s enough. You know I hate it when you sulk and feel sorry for yourself. There’s no reason for that anymore; you’re not trapped in that wretched castle with your murderous stepmother. You’re no longer a victim, so stop acting like one.”

He sat back down on the piano bench, spread his legs, and unzipped his trousers. His eyes may have been playing tricks on him, but he could have sworn he saw Snow White grimace as he pulled out his erection. He bit back the rage that tore through him, and began to stroke himself.

“Come on, princess. Don’t just stand there! Get on your knees. Let me feel those luscious lips.”

His cock twitched in anticipation as Snow White slowly padded over and knelt before him. Finally. She was finally going to do it. God, he’d been dreaming about this moment for months. Since he’d first seen her in the forest, talking to those stupid animals.

He didn’t want to hear her talk anymore. Not until she’d sucked him dry.

“May I...just touch it first?” she stammered. Her eyebrows were almost at her hairline, and her chin quivered. Was she truly that scared of something as normal as giving a blowjob? He felt torn between rolling his eyes and ramming his throbbing length down the girl’s throat. He wanted her to choke on it, as penance.

Instead, he merely pressed his lips together and nodded once.

She bit her lip and gingerly reached out to trace her fingers over the taut skin. When she wrapped her tiny digits around the muscle, it twitched in her hand. She gasped and jumped back.

“Oh fuck, just get on with it,” he groaned. “I’m dying for your mouth, girl. I need it. Stop torturing me!”

He thought he was going to come just from feeling her lips close around his tip. It had been years since he’d been with anyone—and while his stamina was quite high, given his physical fitness and his ability to delay orgasm while touching himself, there was no proper substitute for a warm mouth.

“That’s it, sweet girl. Take it in. More. More. Ohhh yes. Unnhhh....”

Once she found a rhythm, he began thrusting into her mouth. Though he was undulating his hips much more gently than he’d have liked, he knew he had to give Snow White time to grow accustomed to this. If he rammed himself into the back of her throat, the way he wanted, she would gag and start panicking. And then she definitely wouldn’t be able to please him. The thought made him growl. He gripped her hair to make sure she couldn’t move away again.

It was all Snow White could do, to keep her wits about her and avoid bursting into tears. Everything about this felt wrong. When James tasted her, or penetrated her, she felt pleasure. Her years of repression may have put a damper on her enjoyment, but she always reaped some benefit.

This act gave her nothing but anxiety.

She couldn’t speak, move her body, or even breathe without constantly reminding herself that her mouth was occupied; she could only inhale through her nose. The moment she stopped concentrating, she reflexively tried to exhale through her mouth. A sputtering cough resulted.

“Watch the teeth!” he scolded. “Hollow your cheeks.”

She pulled off of him with a pop. “I’m sorry! Did I hurt you? I didn’t mean—”

“Stop talking! Just suck me, for heaven’s sake. Yes! That’s right. Keep going...oh, fuck, your mouth is perfect.”

At least she was following instructions properly. She would worry about her own enjoyment later.

But wasn’t sex supposed to be enjoyed by both parties, regardless of who was doing what? James clearly enjoyed putting his mouth on her. So why couldn’t she enjoy reciprocating? What was wrong with her?

“Faster! Harder! Suck harder; I can barely feel it now. Come on....”

Panic rose in her chest. She simply could not continue. She was struggling to breathe. And she was drooling all over the floor, which made her queasy. So desperately she’d been trying to enjoy pleasing James, but all she felt was revulsion and fear. How could she finish the job?

An unbidden image floated into her awareness. The same image that had attempted to get her attention while James had been thrusting inside her for the first time. And while she felt like a failure, upon acknowledging this unwanted vision, she realized that she would have enjoyed engaging this way with the prince. She didn’t want to do it now; she just would’ve liked to have done it in the past.

So, pretend you’re in the past, a quiet voice whispered in her mind. Imagine what it would have been like, if Florian had brought you into his bedroom. Just this once. You’ll get better at remaining present once you figure out how to give pleasure easily. It’s only once. James will never know.

Thank heavens she could keep her thoughts private, if nothing else. With her eyes closed, she pictured the man who had first captured her heart years ago. Her whole body felt lighter. She opened her mouth wider, sank into her fantasy, and began bobbing up and down with purpose. She even moaned a bit as she reached out to grasp the base of the cock pulsing in her mouth. She was rewarded with a loud groan of satisfaction, shaking thighs, long fingers massaging her scalp...and finally, a rush of warm, salty liquid gushing into her mouth. The hand grabbing her hair pulled even tighter, preventing her from retreating. She had no choice but to swallow.

Emotional whiplash cramped her stomach as she opened her eyes and mentally returned to the room. A strong urge to vomit hit her unexpectedly. Sweat beaded on her forehead and her mouth felt like a wash basin left out in the sun. She remained on her knees, head bowed, hugging herself while gripping the fabric of her dress.

Mercifully, James did not speak until she lifted her head up and wiped her brow, having fought down the nausea.

“Well?” he prodded. “What was that like? How did it make you feel?”

“It was...well, it was hard to breathe, so I was a bit scared. But once I figured out how to breathe while...doing that, it wasn’t so bad.”

“It wasn’t so bad? That’s it?”

“I—”

“Did you not enjoy making me feel good? Were you not even mildly aroused from giving me pleasure? Or were you only thinking about yourself?”

She stared at him like a child who’d been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Because that was exactly how she felt. James may not have known what she’d been fantasizing about while sucking him off, but he was right that she’d only been thinking of her own enjoyment. She had completely lost sight of her duty to satisfy James.

“Good grief, Snow White! You really had me fooled. I’d pegged you for a self-sacrificing little waif, with no regard for your own wellbeing. But now, you’ve gone too much the other way. You’ve grown too comfortable. I have to tell you: I have never before been with such a selfish lover.”

Being stabbed would have hurt less than the guilt that lanced through her chest.

“I’m so sorry, James!” Her eyes moistened. “I didn’t realize I’d become so greedy. I was merely nervous, and I wasn’t sure I was going to do it right. I promise, I’m trying!”

He sighed heavily. “I...I truly don’t know how we’ve arrived here. You went from putting everyone else’s desires ahead of your own, to—this. You just laid back and let me pleasure you for months. Has it really not occurred to you that I might want the same? Not even once? Did I just...make your life too easy, and so now I’ve enabled you to become a lazy spoiled brat? Or maybe you were always a lazy spoiled brat underneath it all, and you just put on a show of being a hardworking damsel in distress to manipulate people into feeling sorry for you.”

Snow White could only stare. Her brain short-circuited. She didn’t feel the tears streaming down her flushed cheeks.

“You really are a princess, you know. You expect to be waited on hand and foot, while not even thinking to offer anything in return. I swooped in and rescued you from your stepmother—who wanted you dead, in case you’ve forgotten!—and you acted so altruistic, you had a hard time even allowing me to cook for you. Now, you’ve gone too much the other way. I’m not sure how to move forward. And I can’t believe I actually have to explain this to you. Relationships are reciprocal; you don’t just...take.”

“I—”

“Save your breath, princess. I don’t know how much more I can handle.” He slipped his organ back into his trousers, zipped himself up, and began walking toward the bedroom. “I thought you were a better person than this. You got my hopes up and strung me along for so long, motivating me to invest EVERYTHING into you; into our relationship...only to come out with diminishing returns. I feel betrayed.”

Once he’d shut the door, Snow White burst into tears. She buried her face in her skirt to try and muffle the sound as her shoulders convulsed.

All of James’s accusations had been true. It was like the old saying: crazy people don’t think they’re crazy. Likewise, selfish people don’t think they’re selfish; they think that their unfair demands are perfectly justifiable, and that their victims’ protests are unwarranted attacks. And perpetrators convince themselves that they’re the victims.

Snow White had become the worst kind of perpetrator.

Instead of maturing like a normal person, and focusing on the relationship she was actually in, she had chosen to continue wallowing in her unhealthy coping mechanisms. She was still daydreaming about a fantasy partnership that would never materialize. Her thoughts of the prince had become an addiction, and she wasn’t working hard enough to conquer it.

In short, she wasn’t trying hard enough to be a good partner to James. She had come to take him for granted. God, that man had suffered so much on her behalf. He had patiently waited for her to reciprocate his physical love. He had taken the time to explain her own body to her. And, worst of all, he had gallantly tolerated her lingering obsession with the prince, which was about two steps away from actual infidelity. How much longer had she really expected him to put up with her cruelty? She was practically waving her infatuation in his face, thereby reminding him that his flesh-and-blood presence could never measure up to the fantasy she had concocted of Florian. What an awful girl she had become.

But maybe she’d always been this awful. Maybe even Grimhilde hadn’t been as evil as she’d wanted to believe—maybe Snow White had unconsciously provoked her. Perhaps she’d waved her youth and beauty in her aging stepmother’s face, without realizing how egotistical she really was, because she’d needed to play the victim. Maybe she’d drowned out the truth of her wickedness by being sugary-sweet and cheery with animals, and singing to herself to create a mask of angelic innocence.

James had said it best: she was a princess. If royal snobbishness was part of her core identity, nothing would change that. The best she could do would be to go against her deepest desires—since what felt right to her was, in fact, wrong. Being with James had taught her that. She couldn’t trust her instincts. They weren’t even instincts, anyway; just little voices telling her what she wanted to hear, to absolve her of all personal responsibility in her self-made suffering.

She’d become a good person eventually, if she worked harder on improving herself. If she tried hard enough.

If she had the energy to try hard enough.

*   *   *

Snow White went full-throttle in her quest for self-improvement. It was now her life’s purpose; there was nothing else left for her to do. Only after she became good, she hoped, would life perhaps grant her some better luck.

She now proudly ignored all negative feelings for James, and all positive feelings for the prince. She gave herself to James whenever he wanted her, and she enthusiastically pleasured him whenever he began pushing her head down. And she was rather good at it. Praise flowed from James’s mouth as readily as, well—as much as something else flowed from another part of him. She didn’t want to think too much about that. But she knew it was her moral obligation as his partner, and so she didn’t even allow herself to consider that she might not like it.

Her hard work paid off. At the end of February, James granted her a reward: he announced that he trusted her enough to leave the house. All by herself. While he was out.

After telling her where he’d placed the spikes, he mapped a path for her to follow, in order to leave his property unharmed. She was free to explore the forest at her leisure—stroll around, throw a few snowballs, commune with the wildlife, whatever struck her fancy.

He lent her a spare cloak and an old pair of boots, which she laced up with trembling hands as he set out to hunt for food. All they could come by this time of year was small game, so he would likely be away for several hours.

The princess felt a bit wobbly as she stepped out into the open air for the first time in six months. She had not been prepared for the rush of sensations that assaulted her. The bright sunlight nearly blinded her, and her too-large boots made her almost dance in place before she found her balance. The fresh, crisp winter air bit into her skin and tasted too sweet. The vivid colors of the natural world were too much for her eyes to process, even when blanketed by snow. Snow White hadn’t realized how much she’d grown accustomed to low light and drab furniture.

Still, she was elated. She all but skipped off of the property—following James’s instructions to avoid the spikes—and found herself in the forest. She didn’t walk very far; all she wanted to do was bask in the joy of being in nature. It was enough to make her eyes well up.

The sudden sound of footfalls made her gasp. Did other people come around these parts? James had told her that they were all alone. Even the dwarfs hadn’t risked an opportunity to look for her. And the rhythm of the boots crunching in the snow did not remind her of James’s gait.

Someone else was here.

Sweat beaded along her hairline. Her heart raced and her hands trembled. Was she in danger? Was someone going to try and take her from James? If they succeeded, would she be able to convince him that she had not gone willingly; that she had not deceived him? Or what if she were merely being paranoid, and this was someone who could send a message to the dwarfs, to tell them that she was all right? That would be a pleasant development.

She had no way of knowing, either way. After standing frozen in place for a long moment, she realized that she couldn’t be a sitting target. She had to investigate.

Walking as quietly as she could, she ventured toward the sound, while trying to remain under the cover of the evergreen trees—which were not as plentiful as she would’ve liked.

A few minutes of walking led her to the source of the noise. And the sight that greeted her nearly stopped her heart.

A red cloak. A dark blue vest with white sleeves. Gray trousers that perfectly fit the strong, muscular legs they held. A kind face with smooth, clear features. Soft brown hair. Hazel eyes that saw into her very soul.

Florian.

Chapter Text

IloveyouIneedyouIwantyou. Imissyoupleasestaywithme. Imissedyousomuch. IloveyouFlorianIloveyouIloveyou.

The words tore through Snow White’s mind at lightning speed, before she had a chance to silence them. A dam had burst in her heart, and she was drowning in the very water she was trying to contain.

She couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t even breathe.

“Snow White!” called the voice that had haunted her dreams for three and a half years. “Is that really you??”

The prince rushed over to her, and stared at her shaking form. Drinking in the sight of her. His eyes sparkled. The look of pure adoration on his face nearly brought her to her knees.

And then he crushed her in his embrace. She clung to him like a lifeline, trying not to shudder. His scent flooded into her nose and made her dizzy. Without even thinking, she buried her face in his neck. His arms felt like home.

“Snow White, you’re trembling! What’s wrong? Where have you been? Everyone said you were dead!” There were tears in his eyes.

The princess shook her head, struggling to form words. All the walls in her mind were collapsing on top of each other, too fast for her to reinstall them.

“What happened to you? Are you all right? You look terrified.” He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her forehead.

“I—I’m...yes, I’m all right. I’m fine. I ran away from my stepmother. No one killed me. I’m all right. Really.”

“Your hair got so long. It’s beautiful!” He reached out and ran his fingers over the long black tresses, which were now past the girl’s shoulders. As he rubbed her waist, she quivered in delight.

“Oh, thank you.” She tentatively placed her arms on his biceps, taken aback by how...natural it felt to do so.

“Whose boots are those?” he chuckled. “They’re so big on you.”

“NONE OF YOUR CONCERN, BOY!”

Snow White and Florian both jumped at the sound of the booming voice.

He moved in front of her and drew his pistol. “Stay behind me!”

Though his tone was loud and firm, the princess noted that his command sounded loving; not ominous. She would have happily basked in his protectiveness, had she not been scared stiff.

“Who are you!” Florian demanded.

He had grown much more confident since the last time Snow White had seen him. He’d become authoritative, but in a benevolent way. A mighty prince. Part of her found this touching, because it was a sign that he had matured; but the rest of her was panicking. How could she explain to him that his caring gesture was putting them both in grave danger?

James stalked toward the pair, teeth bared, gun pointed at Florian’s heart. Snow White had never seen him so furious. The contortion of his facial features nearly made her wet herself. She couldn’t feel her face.

“NO!!” she screamed. “Don’t hurt him! James, please!!”

“You know this man??” Florian asked incredulously, whipping his head around to regard Snow White.

“In every conceivable way, yes, she knows me!” the captain jeered. And in the split-second that Florian turned his head, James pressed his gun to the prince’s temple.

“NOOOOO!!!” Snow White shrieked so loudly, the sound echoed through the forest.

“Prince Florian, I presume?” James spat, ignoring Snow White’s crying and wheezing. Granting her a wicked sneer, he only pressed his pistol more firmly into Florian’s skin.

The princess almost lost her balance.

“How do you know who I am? Why do you want to kill me?!”

“You were touching something that belongs to me! Quite inappropriately, too. I’ll put two in your skull if you don’t back off and go back to where you came from!”

“How do I know you won’t hurt Snow White?!”

“I would never hurt her! She is everything to me. Now go. Get the hell out of here, boy, if you know what’s good for you.”

Florian took a slow step backward , and cast a forlorn glance at the trembling princess.

“Don’t even look at her! One more peek, and you’re dead!”

Hunched over, the prince turned around and trudged away, wringing his hands.

Snow White felt like her heart was being ripped out of her chest.

*   *   *

“Give them an inch, and they’ll take a mile!” James growled, slamming the front door. “I let you out for TEN MINUTES, and you’re back in his arms! And you expect me to believe your bullshit lie that you’re over him?!”

“He just—he only gave me a hug!” she stammered, shuddering as he threw his pistol onto the table.

James pointed to the couch. “SIT.”

Vaguely registering that he was speaking to her like a disobedient dog, rather than a human being, she obeyed. Her hands twisted in her skirt.

“Explain yourself, princess.”

“You have to understand, he’d thought I was dead! Everyone back home was saying that Grimhilde had killed me! He didn’t say he loved me or anything like that!”

“And what did he say?”

“He just asked if I was all right, and...he wanted to know what had become of me. That’s all! I promise! He didn’t do anything wrong!

“What did you tell him?”

A high-pitched wheeze was her only answer. God, why couldn’t she stop crying? Why couldn’t she stop shaking? When would she be able to take a full breath again?

“WHAT DID YOU TELL HIM?”

“That I was all r-right, and no one had killed me because I’d run away from t-the Queen.”

“And why was he all over you?! He couldn’t keep his fucking hands to himself!”

“He just gave me a h-hug!”

“That was no ordinary hug, Snow White!”

“How? What do you mean? You think he’s still...attracted to me?!”

“Yes! It’s VERY obvious!”

“How?”

“The way he looks at you. The way he touches you. I see him as a threat!”

The princess inhaled sharply.

“You belong to ME!”

“I know!”

“If he ever makes a move on you, and I find out, I will hunt him down!”

Snow White nodded.

“You are not to leave my house ever again, for any reason, unless you’re with me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, James. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry....”

Something was shattering deep inside her. Veils were lifting. Dams were bursting. Walls were topping to the ground. The floor was giving out underneath her feet. Her ears were ringing. She could not think more than five words at a time, without feeling a heavy fog in her mind.

But underneath all of that was a glimmer. A lightness at the very bottom of her heart. Something foreign. Something dangerous.

Vindication.

True attraction could not be faked. Chemistry could not be forced. Whether the wishing well had been accurate or not, James felt threatened by Florian, after only seeing the prince interact with Snow White for a minute. Maybe even less than a minute. Therefore, she really hadn’t been lying to herself about her potential with him. No one could feign a connection so strong, it was instantly obvious to an outside observer. An outside observer who had everything to lose from acknowledging the connection.

The spark was still there. She still cared for the prince, and there was a distinct possibility that he cared for her in return. Perhaps romantically.

Maybe she wasn’t crazy after all.

She knew she would never be allowed to leave James. He had long since declared that he wanted to be with her forever. But she couldn’t help imagining a future in which she could sneak away to Florian’s kingdom once in a while, and see him in secret. She’d have to wait a few months, of course—and give James lots of blowies to convince him that she wasdevoted to him—but if her connection with the prince was still alive and well, she had to at least be allowed to talk to him. Sometimes. Maybe, as a compromise, she could one day convince James to let her speak with him, on supervised visits?

Ridiculous daydreams, these were. But Snow White couldn’t help herself. The pull was too strong. They buoyed her in a way she had not experienced in many months.

However, she cautioned herself, maybe it wasn’t really love, what she felt for the prince. He had been her first infatuation, and the first young man to ever show her a glimpse of romance. He was also her only link to her life before James had claimed her. But she’d never had a chance to interact with him for an extended period of time. And certainly not multiple days in a row. She hadn’t once seen him angry, or under extreme stress. She didn’t know how he would treat her if he felt threatened by another man’s attraction to her. These were important details one needed to consider in choosing a partner.

Florian had always run away when she’d tried to confront him about his bad behavior. That seemed to point to an inability to handle discomfort in a mature manner. But had that changed? He’d only run away this time because James had pointed a gun to his head. Those had been exigent circumstances.

Snow White could admit that she was not entirely over him, the way she’d been telling herself; but she wasn’t sure she was in love with him. She was probably in love with James anyway, and just too afraid to admit it—because then she’d have to acknowledge that she’d been wrong, and childish, to have yearned for Florian like a naïve little girl. It would have meant that three and a half years of her life had been wasted, pining for an unrealistic fantasy.

A loud BANG brought her awareness back into the room. She jumped and whipped her head around—James was no longer standing in front of her. When had he walked away? Where had he gone?

BANG. CRUNCH. SSCCREEEEECHH.

James was outside the front door, doing some kind of construction project. It was loud and jarring to Snow White’s sensitive hearing. She curled into herself, plugging her ears and trying to calm her racing mind.

Ten minutes later, James strode back into the house, looking immensely pleased with himself.

“What were you doing?” she asked him.

“There is now a tripwire outside the door. I just installed it. And only I know how to dismantle it. If you so much as open the front door, the motion will trigger a sword—which is now perched above the doorframe—to fall and swing inward. It will cleave you in half.”

Her lips parted. Her jaw quivered.

“I meant what I said, princess. You are not to leave my house again, unless I am accompanying you every step of the way. If such a time comes, I will have you remain in the bedroom, with the door closed, while I disengage the trap. I am never, ever teaching you how to do it. So don’t even think about sneaking off.”

“I won’t,” she whispered.

“Good. Now, I no longer have the capacity to hunt; I’m too angry. I’ll have to go out again tomorrow. I’ll ask you to please retire early for the night. I need some time alone to think.”

She was only too happy to oblige.

*   *   *

Snow White had one hand on her abdomen, and the other pressed against her chest. Lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, she tried to reconcile the day’s dizzying events.

There were too many contradictions. Too many details that weren’t fitting together correctly. Her mind felt like a jigsaw puzzle with all the pieces misaligned, or bent, or with the details too blurry to decipher—and so seeing the full picture was near to impossible. It would take a colossal amount of time and energy to sort through all the pieces and actually see what they were trying to show her.

Time and energy that she didn’t think she possessed. She was too drained.

Despite James’s outburst, she did find his possessiveness attractive. Florian had never gone to such absurd lengths to make sure other people knew she was his. Hearing James tell her that she belonged to him had stirred something in her heart—she felt important. Wanted. Like a rare piece of treasure.

She was the pirate’s treasure. The most precious, lovely, sought-after piece of treasure. It was a nice feeling. Being a treasure was preferable to being a maid.

At the same time, she was grateful that he was not in the mood for sex. She was too scared and confused to become aroused—or to pretend to be. Come to think of it, she often struggled to discern if she was aroused or merely acting like it, regardless of James’s mood. She still struggled to tell the difference between what she actually wanted vs. what she was supposed to want. The two concepts were not always congruent.

Something else had been gnawing at her, since she’d told James about the wishing well. Despite his insistence that Grimhilde had manipulated it with her magic, that really did seem an absurd conjecture. The Queen would have to have been a mind reader to have anticipated Snow White’s trip to the well. And if she had known about the girl’s meetings with Florian, she probably would have had him killed before Snow White had even considered approaching the wishing well. She probably would have acted a lot like James had done this afternoon.

Don’t hurt him! James, please!!

Snow White shuddered at the memory of the barrel pressed against Florian’s temple. Would James really have pulled the trigger, had Florian defied his orders?

The shadows on the ceiling blurred together as Snow White’s eyes lost their focus. She barely noticed. The shapes matched the half-formed images in her mind, as it was, and so the external visual seemed appropriate.

A deep, dark corner of her heart was pushing against its walls, begging for release. She only took a peek inside—and what she saw caused her to slam the metaphorical door after a nanosecond:

What if the wishing well had been truthful?

 This would mean that, despite all of James’s attempts at keeping her under his thumb, she was not actually supposed to remain with him forever. Maybe he had gone ballistic upon seeing her with Florian because he’d been trying to hold onto his most precious treasure...as it was slipping out of his grasp. Maybe he knew, deep down, that he would eventually be forced to let her go.

Was she supposed to extricate herself from James, somehow? Despite Florian’s terrible behavior in the past, had she been destined to marry the prince all along?

The possibility was too terrifying, at present. Snow White would be killed if she tried to leave James—especially if he even remotely suspected that Florian had something to do with it. She couldn’t even walk out the front door. And anyway, she had no proof about the wishing well, one way or another.

Would she ever?

Answers would come if and when they were meant to come. Until then, the princess would just have to take life a day at a time. Florian would need to retreat back into the darkest recesses of her mind.

Chapter Text

Snow melted into water. Trees sprouted buds of new growth. The days grew longer once again. Even the air smelled different. The chill of winter was receding.

But the chill in Snow White’s psyche still screamed like a howling wind. A storm of sleet and hail battered the windows of her soul, threatening to break the glass. There were already several cracks, which were growing larger and larger as the days passed. It was only a matter of time before a shard broke free and lanced her heart.

The princess was trying so hard to tell herself that she was done with Florian—but seeing him in the flesh, after such a long absence, had activated a rumbling force inside her that would not retreat. It would not go quietly into the night. It would no longer submit to her will. This force had exploded out of her the moment she had locked eyes with the prince in the forest; and try as she might, she could not shove it back down anymore. She couldn’t put the genie back in the bottle.

A disturbing change was also plaguing James’s house. Specifically, his bedroom.

Until that fateful afternoon, sex had been tolerable for Snow White. Enjoyable, even, in a quiet sort of way. The way one enjoyed a meal that didn’t taste addictively delicious, but it was satisfactory enough to fill up one’s stomach and meet basic nutritional requirements. She’d figured that that was normal sex between mature adults—as opposed to the relations of hormonal teenagers, who viewed every physical act as an emotional rollercoaster; every love interest felt like life or death, based on the way one’s beloved responded.

Snow White had prided herself on her ability to engage with James without completely losing her head, like a giggling and blushing schoolgirl. That behavior was cringe-inducing, and she was so glad to be done with it. She thought she had matured past all of that nonsense.

However, Florian had not left her mind since that afternoon in the forest. Not for one day. Not even for an hour.

I can handle it, she whispered to her reflection in the bathroom mirror. I’ve carried this burden for years already, and I’m still standing. I’m stronger than I ever thought I could be.

And she was. Despite all the trauma she’d endured, with no proper healing, she was still functional. She was eating, bathing, singing, and advancing in her piano studies. And staying away from the front door, of course. Life was returning to normal.

In addition, James had finally calmed down. It was a relief to both of them. A few weeks after the episode in the forest, he began touching Snow White in his usual fashion. He massaged her breasts, licked and sucked her nipples, and then kissed his way down her stomach. She closed her eyes and allowed her head to sink back into the pillows.

That was the moment when everything changed.

The second James’s mouth touched her pudenda, Florian’s face appeared in her mind. She tried to banish it, but the visual would not leave. It was his face that she imagined in between her legs, licking and sucking and making her thighs quiver. It was his voice she imagined, murmuring about all the lascivious things he wanted to do to her. It was his fingers she felt roving all over her body, making her skin feel like it was on fire.

Desire, the likes of which she had never experienced, rocked every inch of her body like an electric shock. Without warning, she orgasmed three times in rapid succession. Something that had not once happened before. She reached down and grabbed James’s hair, rocking against his mouth, with the image of her beloved behind her closed eyes.

When James penetrated her a few minutes later, she felt violated—until she closed her eyes once more, and imagined Florian. The amount of wetness suddenly gathering between her legs shocked her; James had never aroused her like this, from penetration alone. He would have to lick her and finger her for at least fifteen minutes, to get her this soaked.

“Oh, fuck, I missed this. Ohhh....unnhh. So good, princess. My girl...forever mine...uunnhhh!”

Snow White thought she was going to be sick.

She performed her role as usual; but this time, a heavy ache began to form in her chest. Despite the images in her mind, she knew it wasn’t really the prince lying atop her and snapping his hips, grunting and moaning and whispering half-formed sentences about her beauty. And while she did enjoy James’s attention—and she definitely found him attractive, to a degree—he could not hold a candle to Florian.

That was when she realized the truth. That was when she realized why she’d never initiated any of her encounters with James; why she’d always had to try so hard to perform the proper motions in bed with him.

James could touch her body, but he couldn’t touch her.

The heavy ache in her chest became sharper and thicker, like wave after wave of black water being poured inside her heart. By the time James finished, Snow White’s agony had begun seeping into her eyes. She kept them closed, so he wouldn’t see that they were brimming.

“Are you all right, love?” he asked after he’d collected himself.

“Yes; just tired. I think I’ll rest here for a minute. That was...rather intense.”

“Indeed,” he chuckled. “We hadn’t done it in weeks; there was a lot of pent-up energy that needed to be released.” After planting a kiss on her clavicle, he left the bedroom to go clean up.

Only when he had gotten back into bed did she stand up and pad into the bathroom, making sure to walk slowly, while rubbing her eyes in feigned exhaustion to hide her tears. She shut the door, sank down onto the toilet, and began sobbing violently without making a sound. Her jaw hung open in a silent wail as her body convulsed.

“WHY? WHY? WHYYYY?!” she mouthed. “MAKE IT STOP!!!! I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!!! FLORIAN!! OH GOD, FLORIAN....”

Not a single noise escaped her throat, and yet she figured that any deity must be able to hear the sound of her anguish. But would they grant her relief? Was relief even possible, or was she too far gone?

Her heart felt too big. Too heavy. Jagged edges. Sharp corners. Hot coals tumbling around inside. Perhaps she was bleeding internally. She pounded and clawed at her chest, as if she could reach through the skin to slice open the organ bursting with so much love that had no place to go.

She didn’t feel the red lines she was tearing into her flesh until twenty minutes had passed, when she’d finally stopped crying. The ache in her chest was still there, but manageable. She could at least breathe again. And the lines on her chest would fade within a few hours, she knew; she hadn’t broken the skin.

When she crept back into bed, she actually was tired. And she sent up a prayer of thanks that James was already fast asleep.

*   *   *

Weeks passed, and this became the new norm of their sex life. Snow White found it the most disorienting when James flipped her over, ordered her to get on all fours, and then took her from behind—in such a position, she had no obligation to look at the man she was actually with. She could close her eyes and picture her beloved instead. While clamping her mouth shut to avoid screaming his name, she mouthed the word behind closed lips. James would never know.

Snow White could not orgasm, or even become aroused, unless she fantasized about Florian. Nor could she hold back the dam inside her chest, which spilled out of her eyes when she locked herself in the bathroom. By the time she was able to stand, the shape of the toilet seat was always etched into the backs of her thighs. The angry red indentations made her grimace as much as the sharp, heavy pains in her chest.

She prayed that James would never confront her about this behavior—and that she would be able to survive. Her heart felt perpetually cramped, sore, and overworked. Breathing had become difficult.

She still loved the prince. Desperately. There was no more denying that. She knew now, for sure, that she had never gotten over him at all. Seeing him in the forest—and only after her sex life had commenced—had reawakened her passion for him. She hadn’t moved on; she’d merely repressed her feelings because she’d been so afraid of their implications.

Where was Florian, though? How had he found himself so close to James’s house? Would he ever find the cottage? Would he rescue her? And did he return her love; or had he only treated her with such tenderness in the woods because he’d previously thought her dead, and he was just relieved to see her still standing? Had they run into each other under more mundane circumstances, would he have even given her a second thought?

So many questions tore through her mind. Only some had answers—and she was too afraid to acknowledge them completely; she saw but fleeting half-sentences that floated across her awareness. She was pretty sure she loved James, but there was a distinct possibility that she loved Florian more. And there was a distinct possibility that that would never change.

This was why she’d never been able to get Florian out of her head. Or her heart. She loved James as well, she assured herself a second time—but in a different way. And if James was determined to keep her by his side forever, she would likely never see the prince again.

How was she supposed to spend the rest of her life like this? Could she really endure a normal lifespan while grappling with such acute agony? Hearts weren’t supposed to withstand this much pain. Not for extended periods.

How much time did she have left?

*   *   *

The room was small. Dimly lit, by only a few candles. A soft yellow glow filled every centimeter of the space. It was only two meters square, with no windows or doors. And yet somehow, it felt safe. Like a cocoon. Nothing from the outside world could penetrate. No one could see what happened in here.

  Snow White was sitting on the smooth wooden floor, reading a love letter that was two pages long. She’d never learned how to read; but for some reason, she was able to easily decipher Florian’s elegant script. She marveled at the loops and scrawls that flowed across the page like tiny ocean waves. And while she couldn’t figure out where each letter began and ended, she intuitively understood the text.

The missive was graphic. Intimate. Passionate. The prince had explicitly detailed all the ways he wanted to show her how much he loved her, with his words as well as his body. And her body. In bed. On a sofa. Against the wall. Even on the dining room table.  

She shamelessly began to touch her rapidly-warming skin as she read, needing to see how it would feel when the prince finally followed through on these promises. She couldn’t wait for him to arrive; she needed a head start.

And while her memory of the letter’s exact words were fading, one sentence remained clear, echoing inside her mind over and over:

  “You fill the missing space in my heart.”

*   *   *

Snow White awoke with a jolt. James was in the shower—which could have been a good or a bad thing. When had he woken up? What...position had she been in? Had she been acting out the details of Florian’s letter, the way she’d done in her dream?

She had dreamed of Florian before, but not in such a profound way; last night, it had felt like he had truly been there with her, just not in corporeal form. She knew how it felt when he was there vs. when she was daydreaming about him. Her unconscious mind had always made it clear that he was not really there, when she had dreamed of him. She’d thought it a cruel twist of fate that, even while asleep, she could never escape the fact that Florian was far away, and that their only romantic encounters took place in her imagination.

This dream had been different. Snow White wasn’t sure how she knew, but she knew. The fire in her belly would not stop rumbling. One day, when she wasn’t so scared, she would figure out why.

*   *   *

“You’re awfully quiet this morning,” James remarked over breakfast.

“I’m sorry,” she sighed, not looking up from her meal. Which she did manage to eat in its entirety, for once. It took effort, but at least she succeeded. James wouldn’t harp on her about yet another plate that remained half full.

“What are you thinking about?”

“I had a scary dream. It’s...lingering.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Nightmares are rather awful, aren’t they. What happened in the dream?”

“Well, that’s just it. I can’t really remember. It’s only a vague feeling that something bad happened, or was about to happen. And I worried that it was an omen.”

James stroked her hair.

“You must think I’m crazy. Sometimes, I’m not sure how you can care for me. I can’t be the easiest person to live with.”

James got up from his chair and knelt before Snow White, to hold her hand. The affection in his eyes warmed her heart, and melted away some of the tension that had built up since she’d woken from the strange dream—which had not been a nightmare in the slightest, but James didn’t need to know that. She was relieved that she’d come up with a believable cover story to explain her anxiety, at least. She didn’t want to upset her partner; he’d done nothing wrong.

Looking into his eyes reinforced that she was in love with him at long last. She felt a stronger connection with him than she’d done a few months earlier. Apart from their sex life—which was now causing her nothing but trauma—she somehow found herself feeling much closer to him. She enjoyed singing and playing piano with him more than before; she was more present during their conversations; and she even snuggled up to him sometimes, when they relaxed on the couch. He loved when she did that.

“Snow White, I love you,” he said. “Never forget that. No matter what happens, or whether you do develop a mental illness, I will never abandon you. I will never stop loving you. You’re everything to me.”

“Everything? Really? You love me even more than...being a pirate?”

“Yes, my dear girl. Nothing completes me the way you do. I always felt such an emptiness inside me, before you came along. You fill the missing space in my heart.”

Chapter Text

Snow White’s eyes widened. Her heart thumped. She couldn’t believe what she had just heard.

“W-what?” she stammered. “Why—why would you say that?”

“Say what?”

“What you just told me—that I...fill the missing space in your heart.”

“Because it’s true. Is that a problem, dear?”

“No, no! That’s not what I mean. I just wondered what made you choose those exact words. That phrase was rather...specific.”

James narrowed his eyes. “It was simply the phrase that entered my mind. Why does that bother you? You look terrified.”

“I’m sorry. Like I said: I’m feeling rather off this morning. Last night’s dream really rattled me.”

James was confused beyond belief. While he knew his anger often terrified the princess, he found her current behavior baffling. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t threatening her. He wasn’t even annoyed. He was simply expressing his feelings, and she was acting like she’d just seen a ghost.

It frustrated him that he didn’t know the right questions to ask. How could he soothe her? What was she so frightened of? And why had his choice of phrase scared her? Her alabaster skin looked even whiter than normal.

Perhaps she was mentally ill.

He had made a wise choice, in forbidding her from leaving his house unsupervised. She could not be trusted to take care of herself. The poor girl needed all the support and guidance she could get.

*   *   *

Snow White spent the next few weeks in a daze. She drove herself to distraction, trying to decipher the meaning of her dream—especially that phrase Florian had written. The phrase that James had then spoken, without any knowledge of her dream.

That was what spooked her the most: she’d tested him by asking him why he’d chosen those words, and his response had been sincere. He could not have faked the confusion on his face, upon watching her fight down a wave of panic. Therefore, she hadn’t talked in her sleep and thus given him fodder with which to taunt her. Might this phrase have been spiritual in nature?

She’d never given much thought to spirituality. She said her prayers every night, as she’d been taught to do, but that ritual had sprung from religious practices. It was like saying Grace before a meal, or going to a house of worship on Saturday or Sunday, depending on a person’s faith. It was something that people simply did, because they’d been told that it was proper tradition, and that their deity of choice would punish them for noncompliance.

It was rather restrictive, now that Snow White thought about it.

Spirituality was different. From what she’d gleaned through overhearing conversations between nobles, spirituality involved a deep understanding of energy and humanity’s connection to the Divine, which had no gender or religious affiliation. There were discussions on manifestation, mediumship, and how to recognize and intuitively understand signs from the universe. Sometimes, signs took the form of repeating phrases or numbers, or the appearance of specific objects or animals—vultures supposedly signified an imminent death, for instance.

And sometimes, signs took the form of certain people.

Snow White had heard whispers that specific individuals were meant to cross paths for divine purposes—to teach each other lessons, to pass on certain messages, or to form partnerships. Legend told that, if signs and synchronicities accompanied the meeting of two people, then their relationship had been preordained. It had a divine purpose.

The day before she’d met Florian, a wave of overwhelming joy had stopped Snow White in her tracks. It had washed over her out of nowhere, after a perfectly ordinary morning. There had been no logical explanation for the feeling. She hadn’t thought much of it at the time...but now she wondered if that moment had been a premonition.

Had her not-quite-relationship with Florian been a divinely planned occurrence? Was it meant to blossom into a true partnership? Or had they only been meant to cross paths briefly, in order to teach each other key lessons? Was she destined to remain with James, as punishment for having been so selfish? She had no idea.

It also didn’t help that, spiritual crisis notwithstanding, Snow White feared for her sanity because of her feelings for Florian. The haziness in her brain—which had settled upon her not long after she’d accepted her fate to be James’s partner—had now reached alarming levels. Some days, she could not get out of bed. Other times, she performed all her basic daily functions, but with no recollection of having done so. With every step she took, the prince was a heavy, lingering presence; a dark cloud looming over her and weighing down her heart.

She grieved. She had no real relationship to mourn, but mourn she did. Grieving something that had never existed was a special kind of grief, she decided. There was no way to find closure.

It was only a matter of time before she ended up committed—or dead of a heart attack, because the poor organ would no longer be physically strong enough to withstand this pain. Or maybe both. If she were to go into cardiac arrest, she imagined it would happen after sex. What an embarrassing way to go: slumped over the toilet, mouth hung open in a silent scream. Her face streaked with tears. Angry gashes in her chest and blood under her fingernails.

But at least her pain would be gone.

Right?

A sickening feeling settled over her. She wasn’t sure why, but she couldn’t imagine any scenario in which, alive or dead, her love for Florian was not a part of her. It felt like he was a part of her.

Was that normal? Was she crazy after all? Had her mental health deteriorated so much, from all the grief and heartache, that now she was well and truly delusional? Was she only clinging to a fantasy; a veritable ghost from her past who wouldn’t stop haunting her, because she was too stubborn to let go?

Or was Florian’s presence meant to be significant in her life? Were there actually greater forces at work, behind her rapport with the prince? Would she ever find out, either way, or would she die before uncovering the truth?

Thunder boomed overhead, as if to punctuate her fears. Was that a sign from the universe? If so, she didn’t even want to consider what the message might be.

*   *   *

Snow White struggled to make her way through the large crowd. Why so many people would want to gather in one room was a mystery to her; she’d never understood nobility. Given her blood, she technically was royal as well, but no one would ever look at her with reverence while she was dressed in rags. She felt invisible as she shuffled through the throngs of people in the dining room.

Was she supposed to be cleaning? Cooking? Serving food? She couldn’t remember. It was normally easy for her to keep a smile on her face and a spring in her step while she completed her chores; but now, all she wanted to do was collapse onto the floor and sob.

But why? What was wrong?  

She felt awfully claustrophobic. That must have been it. So much body heat trapped in such a confined space.  

Something told her that she needed to get out of the dining room and onto the balcony. There, she would find what she’d need to restore her good cheer. So, off she went.  

The balcony was strange. Snow White had never seen one quite like it. Though she’d lived in this castle her entire life, she couldn’t recall the balcony appearing this way—stretched out about twenty meters, taking up the entire width of the palace.

While many people were congregated out here, the princess could at least catch her breath and extend her arms. The sun was shining, everyone was smiling, and birds were singing in the skies overhead. Snow White was sad that she still didn’t feel like she measured up to all the well-dressed nobles milling about, but at least no one was harassing her. Then again, no one even seemed to notice her presence.

And then she saw him.  

The prince was standing at the far end of the balcony. She could see him, but he couldn’t see her. He wasn’t looking for her, the way she was looking for him. And he wasn’t the least bit interested in locating her. He looked as debonair as ever, in his freshly-pressed royal uniform. His feathered cap glinted in the sunlight.

Snow White’s breath caught. He was beautiful. So beautiful. And so far away.

Worse, he was surrounded by a crowd of admirers—mostly women. Beautiful, tall, successful ladies who made Snow White appear a nobody. Why would they engage with her? She wasn’t REAL royalty, like Florian and his cronies. She was nothing but a short scullery maid with a flat chest, clunking around in clogs and a ratty old dress that had begun falling apart years ago. And she couldn’t stand the thought of these dapper dandies literally looking down on her, which they’d have to do to simply say hello.

Her feet hurt; they were tired and achy and felt like lead. She couldn’t walk. She was stuck. But she needed to get to the prince. Somehow, she had to get his attention. She needed him to know she was here. She needed to tell him how much she’d missed him; how much she cared for him and worried for his wellbeing—unlike the superficial women hanging off of him, who were only infatuated because he was royal. And handsome. And a gifted vocalist. Snow White had to tell him that she’d love him no matter what, royal prince or not. She had a feeling that few people had ever loved him as a human being. He would continue hiding behind bravado, feeling unworthy of real love, unless she showed it to him.

“Florian!” she called out.

It was as if she hadn’t even spoken. Not a single head turned in her direction. And certainly not the head she was watching.  

“Florian,” she whimpered, now in floods of tears. “Florian....”

*   *   *

James had thought he could tolerate Snow White’s selfishness. He’d thought he could accept her obsession with that stupid prince, as long as she vigorously worked to eliminate it. Which she claimed to be doing.

He didn’t believe her.

Actions spoke louder than words. And the girl’s actions told a very different story from her lofty promises. He would need to have a word with her—once she’d arisen from her beauty sleep.

Beauty sleep. Like the bewitching little waif actually needed any more of that. She was unfairly alluring already.

As he’d told her recently: she really was a princess, in every sense of the word. Since she’d moved in with him, she’d stopped cleaning and cooking for herself, she’d never offered to help out around the house, and she thought she could sleep late whenever she felt like it. She thought she could just lie there and make him do all the work in bed, and only pleasure him when he spelled it out for her that yes, he did actually WANT her to put in some effort in bed.

It didn’t matter that he’d insisted on doing all those things for her in the beginning; she should have implicitly understood that he’d only been doing her a favor, after all she’d endured under Grimhilde’s rule. He’d been easing her into a normal life as gently as he could. Now that she was accustomed to a stable home environment, she should have long since taken the initiative to pick up some of the slack.

He'd endured her behavior for too long. He had been much too lenient. Much too compassionate and understanding. Just because she’d been through a lot did not entitle her to hold her past over his head, as a reason for why he should continue kowtowing to her. She was taking him for granted.

Her recent actions had tipped him over the edge. He would not stomach her brattiness any longer. His knuckles cracked as he flexed his fingers, staring at nothing. Rain pounded on the roof and thunder boomed. He didn’t hear it.

“Good morning, James.”

He merely nodded at the princess. She certainly had gotten her beauty sleep—she looked ravishing as ever.

“Are...are you all right?” She tiptoed toward him, and hovered by his side.

“You were dreaming about him, weren’t you.”

Her lips parted. “I—I may have been? I don’t know. It’s...it’s fuzzy, I think. I’d have to really think about it, to remember clearly. Why do you ask?”

“You were moaning his name in your sleep.”

Her inhalation was so sharp, it was almost a wheeze. James felt an urge to wrap his hand around her throat and fuck her until she fell unconscious. Or maybe even until she died. It wouldn’t surprise him if, as a corpse, she’d still be so sinfully beautiful that he’d want to keep pumping his cock into her every orifice for hours.

She deserved punishment for all she’d done to him. And he deserved a medal for restraining himself—for the umpteenth time. If she didn’t clean up her act within the next twelve hours, he was going to snap.

“Do you know how it feels, Snow White?” He turned to face her, and glowered.

She shrunk before him. “How...what feels?”

“To watch the woman I love, more than anything in the world, look at another man the way I look at her—knowing that she’s never once looked at me like that?”

“James—!"

“And...to wrap my arm around this woman as she sleeps, and immediately hear her cry out for this man?!”

She shuddered.

“You can lie to me all you want when you’re awake, but the truth comes out when you sleep. Even unconsciously, you know that you desire him.”

“It wasn’t a sex dream!!”

“You moaned, Snow White. You moaned his name. Not mine. HIS. The second I touched you! Not a sex dream, you say? What else am I supposed to think?!”

She shook her head a few times, her mind scrambling to put together all the specifics of her dream, so she could explain it to James. The details were still a bit nebulous, but she recalled with absolute certainty that there had been no sex. Everyone had been fully clothed. And Florian hadn’t even seen her, much less touched her.

“What else am I supposed to think?” he repeated.

“I was crying in the dream. With all my clothes on. I was calling out to him from twenty meters away, and I was weeping because he couldn’t hear me. I’d only wanted to talk to him, and he hadn’t noticed that I was nearby. There’s nothing remotely sexual about that!”

“You were moaning. It did not sound like a sob of distress. It sounded like a wanton cry. If you’d said my name instead of his, I daresay I may have become aroused, myself.”

“I wasn’t aroused; I was upset!”

“You were heartbroken. You ARE heartbroken. You still love him. After everything I’ve done for you....”

She took a step back and blinked away tears. “James, I...I thi—I do love you. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and—”

“Oh, and a fine time to tell me. When you’re merely trying to cover your arse. And there you go again with the I thinknonsense. How do I know you mean it? Will you prove it to me?”

With an uncommonly enthusiastic nod, Snow White dropped to her knees and hastily unbuckled James’s pants.

*   *   *

Though satisfied with Snow White’s oral performance, James’s happiness was short-lived. She didn’t make any attempt to show him affection for the rest of the day; she just simpered like a fool, offering to cook dinner, and clean the dishes, and go outside to find some firewood—oh, wait, she forgot that she wasn’t allowed outside anymore. The stupid ditz.

It was too little too late. And as if that wasn’t infuriating enough, she then spent the entire evening sniffling on the couch. After three hours, he’d had enough of her wallowing. Bloody enough.

“NOW what are you moping about?” he drawled.

“I’m sorry,” she sniveled. “I’d only hoped we could...celebrate today. Even just a little bit.”

“What could there possibly be to celebrate?! The sixth of March is as ordinary a day as any other.”

She wiped her eyes. “Today is my birthday.”

James seemed to look through her, rather than at her. “Maybe we’ll celebrate next year,” he replied flatly. Then he turned and walked away without another word. The bedroom door slammed shut behind him.

Chapter Text

The dust began to settle in the house after two months. In an unspoken agreement, neither James nor Snow White ever uttered Florian’s name again. They never even alluded to him in conversation. On the surface, it was as if he had never existed.

Snow White still felt the prince with her at all times; but she’d grown so accustomed to the sensation, she didn’t consciously notice it anymore. At long last, her obsession seemed to be waning. For real, this time. Yes, she still cried heavily—and silently—in the bathroom, every time she and James finished having sex; though that was a purely physical response. She couldn’t help finding the prince more attractive than James. But the prince was not her partner. He never had been, and he never would be. Lasting relationships were not built on hormones. She had no idea what kind of person Florian was in day-to-day settings, anyway. She had nothing but fantasies. And those fantasies were probably more like delusions, given her fragile mental state. She couldn’t trust her own judgment when it came to the prince.

She was now more determined than ever to devote herself to James. To be present in their relationship. There was no more room for her to pine and wallow in self-pity that she did not deserve.

There was one tiny issue, though.

Though she’d grown more comfortable acknowledging her newly-awakened sexuality, she wanted to keep it to herself. She and James had been together since August. It was the end of April. And she had not once initiated intimate relations with him. She knew she loved him and found him attractive—in that quietly appreciative sort of way, rather than an immature, frenzied need—but the thought of just...reaching out and touching him, without provocation, made her freeze up. Even if only to squeeze his shoulder. The instant she contemplated doing so, an invisible force locked all of her muscles in place.

She couldn’t figure out why. And she wasn’t sure she wanted the answers. Not yet, anyway.

Besides, the solution was simple. It came to her in the middle of the night, after hours of praying for sleep. James was unconscious. He remained still when she slipped from the bed and crept into the bathroom.

And, to make doubly sure he wouldn’t wake, she took a solid minute to close the door and turn the doorknob in complete silence. She didn’t even turn on the light. Her hands shook and her heart pounded with offensive loudness.

Could he hear that? No. No. Get a grip on yourself. Even a conscious person can’t hear someone’s heart beating. And certainly not from three meters away, behind a closed door.

On shaking legs, Snow White slowly lowered herself onto the toilet seat and parted her thighs.

Should I actually do this? Am I being unfaithful to James?

A deep throb inside her core made her hips gyrate. Her toes curled. She couldn’t wait any longer.

Now with complete privacy, cocooned in the protection of darkness, she reached in between her clenching thighs and began to stroke herself. It was the first time she’d done this since James had taught her how. It felt better this way, without his hungry gaze distracting her and making her stomach clench.

All alone, she felt free. She was more comfortable exploring herself. She could stroke her aching folds at her own pace, without having to worry about putting on a show for someone else. She could flatten her fingers against her inner and outer lips, taking her time to really learn what her own body felt like. How it wanted to be touched.

She gasped upon inserting two fingers into her entrance: she was soaked. It was unreal, how much moisture had gathered between her legs. The sensation made her a bit shy, but she was determined to push past her timidity and meet her body’s needs.

James would never know about the thoughts that had caused all that moisture to pool inside her core.

That old forbidden image of the prince resurfaced: his faced buried deep in between her legs. His arms wrapped around her thighs to keep them spread wide, while his mouth went to work.

The princess shuddered and began rubbing her clitoris. God, she wanted that man’s tongue on her. Her whole body ached with need. The ache in her heart wasn’t quite as prominent as when she was engaging with James, but it was still there; a terrible counterpoint to the delicious ripples coursing through her.

Faster, faster, faster...oh, God, yes, more....

The words formed on her lips, but she made no sound.

In her mind, she was shamelessly splayed out on the prince’s bed, naked and panting, flushed down to her chest. It was a plush four-poster bed with light blue satin linens that smelled like lavender and coconut. A candle burned on the nightstand, causing carnal shadows to dance on the canopy overhead. Snow White was fisting her hands in the prince’s hair, and grinding her soaking wet folds against his greedy mouth. She wanted him to make her whole body shudder. She wanted to cover his entire face with her juices. Over and over and over.

Where are these desires coming from? she asked herself, feeling a jolt of alarm. This is so unlike me.

Unlike her or not, the images did not fade. They only grew more insistent. And her rosy mouth kept silently pleading.

Ooh, ohh, yes! Right there! Oh, please, Florian....

Mouthing the prince’s name tipped her over the edge. She longed to scream it. Gasp it. Moan it. In a sexual way; not in a tears-streaming-down-her-face way. Alas, doing that would get her killed. Or at least severely injured. Fear dampened the pleasure of her orgasm, but she still enjoyed it thoroughly. Even if she did have to do her very best to keep her hips planted firmly on the toilet seat, to avoid making a racket. She wriggled side-to-side instead of bucking up and down. Her left hand gripped the sink, to keep her steady.

After the wave crested, Snow White sighed and stared at nothing. The darkness was comforting. She wasn’t ready for the light to shine down on the uncomfortable possibilities she was afraid to consider.

*   *   *

Snow White’s bathroom forays began happening at least once a week.

The princess tried not to think too hard about what she was doing—she simply needed a physical release; and for whatever reason, she wasn’t comfortable turning to her partner for help. Maybe she still harbored some resentment toward him for his past behavior, and she was unconsciously trying to punish him by withholding sex. She’d need to hold herself accountable for this crime one day, but she wasn’t ready yet.

James remained ignorant. At least, Snow White assumed he did. There was no way he would not have confronted her, had he learned of her late-night solo shows. So it wasn’t really a problem, in the overall scheme of things. She just had to creep into the bathroom, take care of her needs in silence, and then wash her hands. She’d walk back to bed with a normal stride; it didn’t matter if James woke up and thought she’d merely needed to relieve herself. Acting guilty would only raise his hackles.

She didn’t want to think about what he would do, should he ever discover her secret.

*   *   *

Though James had no idea what Snow White was doing in the bathroom at night, he had not been himself since the episode in the forest. And even less so, after she’d cried out for the prince in her sleep. A leaden weight had subsequently lodged itself in Snow White’s stomach.

The rift between them was entirely her fault. She had pushed him too far, dallying with the prince right before his eyes. And even though she knew she couldn’t control what she did in her sleep, she still felt crippling guilt over having moaned the prince’s name. A split-second after James had reached for her, no less. She couldn’t even imagine how that must have made him feel.

“I love you,” she insisted, as they lay in bed and kissed. And she meant it. It tore at her heart to see him so forlorn, and to know that she was the cause of his suffering. If that wasn’t love, then what was?

As James’s lips traveled down her neck, she made herself think of all the things she liked about being with him.

He was a great piano teacher. He spoke animatedly as he explained each new concept. He had endless patience, no matter how many mistakes she made. Her heart leapt whenever he smiled, upon her mastery of one of his favorite pieces. He praised her during every lesson, even on her off days.

He also took excellent care of her. He may have been a bit forceful at times, but she also couldn’t take care of herself. She’d never been shown how. All she’d ever done, before moving in with him, was take care of others. She’d been too busy being a maid to figure out how to attend to her own needs—physically, emotionally, or sexually. She imagined that, as she learned to be more independent, James’s rules would slacken and he would grant her some well-earned freedom.

She appreciated his musical abilities, too. He had a charming singing voice that complemented hers quite nicely. And his skills as a pianist were, quite frankly, unmatched. If she closed her eyes, she could forget that he only had one hand. His long, dexterous fingers performed magic on the keys. The sight was spellbinding.

And last—but certainly not least—he wanted her so, so desperately. What kind of man had the patience to explain to a young woman how her own body worked? What kind of man would wait several months for his partner to be ready for sex? What kind of man was so selfless, he’d shelve his own emotional and physical needs until his prudish lady was finally able to reciprocate? She didn’t think another such man existed.

She was lucky. Luckier than she deserved.

“I wish you’d respond more,” he sighed, snapping her out of her thoughts. She didn’t even realize that he’d pulled her dress down and begun massaging her breasts.

She raised her eyebrows in alarm. “What—how do I...I thought I was doing it right! I’ve been trying really hard to loosen up and—”

He scoffed. “But that’s the whole point, Snow White! You shouldn’t have to try. It shouldn’t take effort for you to show me that you actually care about me. You only move while in the throes of an orgasm.”

“That’s not...normal?”

“No, it’s not! It’s not normal to just...lie there—like you’re getting a massage, with no expectation of having to do anything in return. You’re supposed to get excited. You’re not only supposed to begin moving when I stimulate sensitive nerve endings. My touch should light you up, even when you’re clothed. And it clearly doesn’t.”

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, James. I promise. I know I have some...mental health issues—”

“Indeed you do. It’s rather difficult to tolerate at times, since you don’t seem to be making any progress in fixing them. Are you even trying to get better?”

“Yes! Of course I am! I can admit that I have trouble focusing sometimes, and I space out a lot—but that’s not because I don’t love you. I do! I guess I just...need to try harder.”

“Indeed. Let’s see some greater effort. Right now.”

I have to be present, she told herself. I will not allow my mind to wander for even a second.

As James finished removing her clothing, she focused intently on each detail—the cool zipper sliding down, the smooth fingers dancing across her skin, the hook pulling off her panties, and the hot breath leaving goosebumps on her body. James’s skin was very soft; how had she not noticed that before? It was indeed pleasant.

She really did need to stop spacing out so much. She’d missed so many important sensory details about her partner, which had led her to slack off on truly appreciating him. What the hell had she been doing, thinking about piano lessons while they were in bed? She should’ve known better. She gasped at the sudden urge to slap herself in the face for her idiocy.

Slowly, tentatively, she reached up and began unbuttoning James’s shirt. Her hands shook and her brow furrowed, but she was determined to do this correctly. And since he did have a rather pleasing physique, she reminded herself of how excited she would be to see it again. She made herself breathe faster—with her mouth open, to convey arousal—and even managed a slight upward twitch of her lips. That took no effort.

It was a start.

She imagined lubrication flowing from her inner walls and leaking onto the bed, driving James wild. He always loved it when she was a sopping wet mess. She couldn’t wait to see how much more she’d be able to satisfy him, now that she was actually trying hard enough.

Once they were both naked, Snow White spread her legs as wide as possible and massaged James’s muscular shoulders as he lined himself up with her entrance. Hope welled up inside her when he granted her a wry grin.

She was improving! This was progress! And the positive shift in mood had happened so quickly this time—all she’d had to do was try harder. REALLY try; not only halfheartedly, like she’d been doing before.

And then he grimaced.

“What’s wrong?”

James sighed loudly. “I’m having difficulty getting insi—fuck.”

Snow White gasped as he swore; a sharp pain stabbed in between her legs. “I’m sorry! Did I do something wrong? What happened?”

“It feels like I’m fucking dry cotton.”

“What?!”

“You’re...not wet. At all.”

Her heart sank. Her chest tightened. “I’m—I’m sorry, I’m trying—”

“Hang on,” he groaned. Adjusting his position, he slipped a finger inside her. It took effort; they both felt it.

“Do you want to, you know...lick me? That always makes me really—”

“Don’t feel like it right now,” he grumbled.

That was code for “You don’t deserve it right now.” She felt the unspoken words as if James had carved them into her very soul with an iron-hot dagger.

And she knew the words were true. She didn’t deserve pleasure. She still needed to try harder to show James how much she loved him. She couldn’t worship him properly if she was too focused on receiving a reward before she’d earned it, selfish brat that she was. Why was she always getting ahead of herself like this? No wonder her bedfellow was losing patience with her.

In addition, making matters worse, there was now something wrong with her vagina. It was malfunctioning. It was supposed to self-lubricate when aroused, but it was doing the exact opposite. Why was her body so...incorrect?

After a few minutes, enough fluid had accumulated that James could penetrate her. He entered her with a few short thrusts, and then grunted in satisfaction. Now properly sheathed in her arousal, he began to snap his hips faster.

Only then did Snow White allow herself to relax. She clenched her inner walls around James’s length, embraced the delicious sensations in her core, and moaned loudly on purpose. She forced her hips upward repeatedly, taking care to match her partner’s rhythm.

She was so focused on making sure she acted appropriately, she didn’t even feel the usual ache in her heart that followed each encounter. Florian did not cross her mind once. That had to count for something. That was a huge step forward. And she would’ve been lying if she’d said she didn’t want some kind of acknowledgement.

“How did I do?” she asked in a small voice, when James returned from the bathroom.

“That was better,” he replied—though there was no trace of satisfaction in his voice.

“Do you...need me to do anything else?”

“Nope. You’re fine.” He kissed her forehead and left the room. She sank back into the sheets with a sigh of relief. She had done well.

Something was still missing, though. And for the life of her, Snow White could not figure out what it was.

Chapter Text

“How did I do?”

She hated asking him that, every time they finished in bed. But she couldn’t help it; she needed to know if she had upheld her responsibilities well enough. If he didn’t tell her, she wouldn’t have any idea if she needed to exert still more effort. She wouldn’t know if he really was satisfied—or if she’d failed yet again, and he was stewing underneath a calm exterior. Fear would then tighten her airway for hours.

As much as Snow White loathed asking the question, James loathed hearing it. He reminded her, for likely the five hundredth time, to stop thinking so much. To just allow her body to take over.

But any time she tried to do that, her body went rigid. She didn’t even feel her own skin. Since she couldn’t figure out how to stop freezing up, she continued giving laser-focus to her every movement in bed. Every sound she made. Every facial expression. Every muscular contraction. Every stroke of her hands. She counted the seconds she forced herself to look James in the eye, so he wouldn’t have a chance to worry that she was seeing Florian behind her closed lids.

He never compared her to dry cotton again—but he also never penetrated her again, without first stimulating her orally. She was grateful that he’d ceased discussing the issue.

To both distract herself from her sexual fears, and to grow closer with James, Snow White suggested a new evening activity: he would read to her. She enjoyed the sound of his voice when he was calm; it had a rich quality to it, like liquid dark chocolate, and it made her feel safe.

His face brightened when she told him this. “That was...the sweetest thing you have ever said. What brought this on?”

She shrugged. “It was something that just occurred to me, and I wanted to tell you.”

I’m just trying harder to be a better partner, because I know that I’m not good enough simply by existing. I have to try harder than everyone else to be a good person, since I’m so selfish, and I need you to see how desperately I’m trying to do right by you. Because I really do love you. I promise.

 The first book he chose was a romance novel. Such a tale would not have been his first choice; but he knew what a romantic Snow White was, and he felt inclined to indulge her. He hadn’t read the book yet, anyway. So the story would be new to both of them.

He had all of three romance novels on his bookshelf—but since the princess couldn’t read, he told her that there were many more. She was delighted.

The story centered around a wealthy teenage boy, cast out of his family for falling in love with a servant girl working on his parents’ estate. Over the next several nights, James read to Snow White about the trials and tribulations the couple endured as they tried to make their own way in the world—a cruel world that frowned upon the blending of social classes. The pair struggled to find work, but their love gave them the strength to overcome every challenge they faced.

James thought the story too cliché. Snow White was riveted by the text.

She felt very empathetic toward the servant girl. Having been raised as a maid and treated like vermin, the princess could understand this character’s longing to be with the boy she loved, who had initially seemed out of reach. As such, Snow White was also very proud of the main character, for having the courage to stand up to his wicked family and prioritize his beloved.

A pang pierced Snow White’s chest.

What would have happened if she and the prince had begun a love story like this fictional couple? Florian’s father probably would not have shunned Snow White, given that she was technically a princess; but the boy hadn’t even been willing to try. He had not sorted through his feelings for Snow White, stood up to Grimhilde, and then whisked her away with him, to give her a better life.

However, just like Florian, this fictional boy had resisted his desires at first. He had largely avoided the servant girl when he discovered that he was falling in love with her. He made up excuses about his duties to his family, and whatever else he could come up with to put distance between them. It was only after the girl had fallen ill and nearly died, that he finally got his act together and realized what truly mattered in his life.

What if, just like this boy, Florian only needs to mature a bit more, and then—NO. Stop that.

The story seemed eerie. Obviously, the author hadn’t written the book with Snow White in mind, to send her a message—and yet, somehow, the princess wondered if it really had been mere chance that James had chosen that book to read to her. Had some...unseen force prompted him to select that story, because it contained a supernatural signal for her?

With these questions looping in her mind, Snow White was close to coming unraveled by the time the book reached its conclusion.

The ending scene depicted the couple’s wedding. Snow White enjoyed hearing the details about the bridal gown, the wedding venue, and the couple’s interactions with all of their happy guests.

And then came the vows. The speeches weren’t fleshed out completely, but the author had included a few sentences from each one.

“You have opened my eyes to all the places where I was lacking,” James read, from the young man’s declaration to his bride. “I never knew courage, compassion, or empathy until I fell in love with you. You have taught me to be a better man. You fill the missing space in my heart.”

Snow White gasped.

“What is it?” James asked.

“That—that sentence.”

“Which sentence?”

“The one you just read. Does it really say that, in the book?”

“You mean, You fill the missing space in my heart? Of course it says that. I didn’t make it up.”

“Oh,” she breathed.

“What’s wrong with that sentence?”

“N-nothing’s wrong with it; I just thought it was...a bit spooky.”

James blinked.

“You said those exact same words to me a few months ago.”

“Oh?” He did not recall doing so. And he didn’t understand why it was such a big deal to the princess.

“Yes. I just—I just thought it was strange.”

“All right...so I said something to you that happened to be in this book. Something positive. It’s not a death omen. Why does this scare you so much? It’s just a coincidence.”

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “It just does.”

James cocked his head to the side. “You make no sense sometimes. You know that?”

*   *   *

Snow White never asked James to read her a romance novel again. She contented herself with the epic action and adventure stories, and the occasional tome of poetry. There were no more supposed hidden messages in these manuscripts, as far as she could tell. And James never mentioned the eerie phrase again. She was relieved.

She was also relieved that he had begun leaving the house for longer periods again. With summer being only a month away, the weather was delightful. James had taken to going for long walks in the forest, in addition to his weekly hunting trips. Having him home less, the princess remembered that his absence allowed her to breathe a little easier—and to think more clearly. She still hadn’t figured out why.

James enjoyed the time alone, too. He’d found himself rather disappointed with Snow White lately, in and out of the bedroom, and getting out of the house made it easier for him to dissect his feelings.

There was a stagnation in his cottage; in his relationship. He didn’t understand why, and it took concerted effort not to lash out at the princess. He often wished she would do something wrong, just so he would have an excuse to yell at her. He wanted to make her cry and beg forgiveness—only to have him remind her that she was irredeemable. After all he’d done for her, and how much she’d spat it all back in his face, she did not deserve his clemency. But he couldn’t say that to her when she was, for all intents and purposes, behaving perfectly.

The problem was that he remained unsatisfied with his life. He had acquired the greatest treasure a pirate could possibly hope for...only to have it spoil in front of him, like perishable food left out too long. He thought Snow White’s “expiration date” wasn’t supposed to come until much farther into the future. What kind of false advertising was this? He felt like he’d been duped.

She was supposed to complete me! he raged inside his head. She was supposed to have eliminated my suffering—or at least made my pain more bearable! Why am I still so miserable, even though I possess her?

He had given up everything to be with her! He had all but relinquished his position as captain of The Jolly Roger. He had basically stopped being a pirate, his greatest passion. He had restructured his entire life around the princess, to make himself her slave, attending to her every need—because he’d known that she was going to make him whole. Her absence from his life was why he’d been so lost; he hadn’t known what was missing previously. And once he’d seen the girl in the forest, communing with the animals, that was the moment it had all clicked. He had understood that she was the answer to everything.

And yet his hope was dwindling. His pain and fury were bubbling up from deep inside him, despite Snow White’s enduring presence. What had gone wrong?

The waking world wasn’t the captain’s only source of distress. Lately, he’d been having a recurring nightmare of coming home and finding Snow White with Prince Florian, in various compromising positions. The dream haunted him at least twice weekly. He tried not to think about how he behaved in these dreams, upon discovering his beloved in the arms of that boy. He couldn’t stand the thought of laying a finger on her, but if she pushed him too hard....

Not to mention, she STILL wasn’t fully appreciative of all he was doing to give her a good life. He could see it in her eyes. So much of her behavior was a blatant performance. And her acting skills were atrocious. She must’ve thought him an imbecile. God, he needed to find one reason to punish her. Soon. Or he might combust.

He was so absorbed in his ruminations, he’d lost awareness of his surroundings. An unseen obstacle sent him sprawling to the forest floor.

“What the DEVIL—”

“Oh, ‘scuse me, sir!” called an annoyingly cheery voice. “You’d best watch where yer goin’.”

James scrambled to his feet and hastily dusted himself off. The sight before him made him jump: two squat men whose heads barely reached the tops of his thighs.

“And who the bloody hell are you?” he demanded.

The little men narrowed their enormous eyes and crossed their chubby arms. “We could ask you the same question,” one of them replied. “We’ve lived here for years, and we’ve never seen ye around these parts. Who might you be? And what happened to your left hand?”

“None of your concern, impudent fool.”

“Golly, he’s worse than Grumpy!” one of the men remarked with a chuckle.

Worse than grumpy? James asked himself. What’s worse than being grumpy? And what’s wrong with being grumpy, as it is? Sometimes a situation warrants grouchiness.

“Yeah, but even Grumpy started to soften after only a day around Snow White,” said the other man. “Goodness, I miss that sweet princess. I do hope she escaped from whatever monster took her away.”

James stiffened. His loud, nasal inhalation caught the dwarfs’ attention.

“What’s that gasp for, mate?” asked one of them. “You know Snow White?”

“I...may have seen her wandering through the forest, here and there.” He kept his tone even, and punctuated his words with a suave smile.

“When?! And where, exactly!” demanded the other. “We been worried sick about her for months!”

“What business is that of yours, my fine gentlemen?”

“She came to stay with us after fleeing the Queen, and the poor thing got ‘erself kidnapped the very next day. We figured the Queen musta found her. We been heartbroken since then.”

“How d’you know she was kidnapped?”

“Signs of a struggle in the bedroom. And one of her shoes was on the staircase. She wouldn’t willingly go outside with only one shoe on, now would she?”

“Indeed not. A rather dreadful tale,” James replied with a heavy sigh. “And perchance what did you do with her shoe?”

“We’ve kept it for her, in case she ever comes back for it.”

“Ahh, how touching. I’m sure the lovely princess appreciates the gesture. I can assure you that, on the odd occasion I’ve seen her, she’s had two shoes on her feet. I doubt the Queen got to her. So whoever kidnapped her must have at least provided her with adequate footwear. Which—come to think of it—doesn’t sound like the behavior of a kidnapper, now does it. Are you sure she didn’t just leave her shoe behind before setting off on her own...perhaps as a thank-you for your hospitality? Something to remember her by? I can’t imagine she would’ve wanted to tell you that she no longer wanted to stay with you. Princesses are too polite to be so blunt, are they not?”

“Um, ‘scuse me. Ye still haven’t answered Doc’s question. When and where have you seen Snow White? Is she safe? Healthy?”

“And might you know why she hasn’t come to see us?” chimed in the one called Doc. “Happy, here, hasn’t been very happy since she disappeared. It’s been hard for ‘im to crack a smile these days.”

“I’ve no idea.”

Doc took a step closer to James, frowning deeply. “Did you take her?”

James laughed nervously, but disguised his anxiety as a flippant giggle. “Now, now, gentlemen. That’s a ridiculous assertion. What the hell would I want with a princess?”

“You tell us!”

“You think me a scoundrel?! I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you, me scurvy lads. I’ve no need for helpless princesses. Me incompetent crew gives me enough trouble already!”

Without thinking, he’d slipped back into pirate jargon. He was the fearsome captain of a mighty ship; not an ordinary man sulking in the forest. An ordinary man could be attacked if caught off-guard. Captain James Hook needed to take control of the situation.

No one could catch him off-guard. No one could find out that he had Snow White. Especially people who lived nearby, and wanted to see the girl set free.

This was bad. This was very, very bad.

“Ye seem mighty offended by such a simple question, sir,” said Happy. “All ye had to say was yes or no.”

“No. I don’t have the princess. Satisfied?”

“Not particularly. Ye don’t seem trustworthy. Where d’you live again?”

“I didn’t tell you. Because it’s not your concern.” He patted the butt of his pistol, now on display as he subtly lifted up the hem of his shirt. “Turn around and go back to where you came from.”

Is that what I’m going to say to any male who shows concern for Snow White’s wellbeing? More than likely. Language like that certainly sends a message. A nice verbal weapon in my arsenal.

To his chagrin, the dwarfs didn’t move.

James whipped out his gun and fired a shot into the air. “Last chance, lads. Scram!!”

That was the warning they needed. With a shudder, they turned and slinked away. James stared after them for several minutes, to make sure they weren’t going to double back and ambush him.

*   *   *

That was a close call, James thought as he trudged into the house. Too close.

So, these meddlesome little dwarfs had housed Snow White before he’d taken her. That certainly explained her bizarre sleeping arrangements there—three tiny beds pushed together, to accommodate her adult body.

Her adult body that he now needed to ravish, to release the tension of the afternoon. His cock hardened at the thought.

*   *   *

Torrential rain fell that night. Snow White had fallen asleep not long after their marathon bedroom session, despite the downpour pounding on the roof, but James remained awake into the wee hours. He couldn’t believe that now three men had tried to take his precious treasure from him. If he were not careful, someone with a weapon could bang on his front door and demand that he release the girl. Or maybe even a group of people. He may not be able to fend them all off.

He wasn’t sure what to do about this development. But one thing was certain: he did not feel secure in his home anymore. Before encountering Snow White, he’d never spent more than a few weeks at a time on the mainland. That was likely why he’d never met any of his neighbors. But he had been here almost consistently now, for the better part of a year.

He should’ve guessed it would only be a matter of time before he encountered some people who lived close by. People who knew Snow White and wanted to know what fate had befallen her. Someone was bound to become suspicious.

Perhaps it was time to rethink how long he was dwelling out here.

*   *   *

James went for another walk the following morning. The thick smell that followed a rainstorm hung heavily in the air, just as the captain’s footfalls were heavier than normal. Walking through mud was never enjoyable. He had to tread with care, so as not to slip and fall—the way he’d done the day before, when he hadn’t seen those nosy dwarfs.

He hadn’t thought to look that much lower than eye level. To avoid another mishap, he found himself doing just that as he trudged on.

And that was when he saw them.

Footprints.

Two sets of footprints. Footprints that looked an awful lot like they belonged to two dwarfs who had tracked him—almost all the way to his house.

The blood drained from his face. This was an emergency.

James knew what he had to do. Once he’d taken the appropriate action, he was going to lock up his domicile and take Snow White away with him. It wasn’t safe at his cottage anymore.

Chapter Text

James boarded The Jolly Roger the very next day. He had a mission, and he needed assistance.

“Ahoy, gentlemen!” he shouted as his feet hit the deck. “I’ve an important task to complete ashore, and I need me most burly men. Now, who will it be? Line up, ye old scoundrels!”

The strongest and most muscular pirates clamored around their captain, eager to be chosen. It was always the biggest men who wanted to do the heaviest lifting, James noted. An overflow of testosterone would be most helpful. Intimidation was key.

Once the captain made his selection, the five pirates traipsed onto the mainland.

“What’s the assignment, captain?” one asked. “We beatin’ up a troll or somethin’? Or that oversized Indian chief?”

“No, Mr. Martinez. We’re going to interrogate a couple of dwarfs.”

“Dwarfs?!” protested Martinez. “Why d’you need beefy men to knock about some bloomin’ dwarfs?”

The other pirates roared with laughter.

“Too long of a story,” James drawled. “I don’t fancy explaining every damn detail. Now, keep up!”

It was a bit of a struggle to get the confused men to follow him through the spiderweb portal, but they eventually made it through—grumbling all the way. And insisting that they were not afraid of being attacked by gigantic spiders, of course.

James led his henchmen to the dwarfs’ cottage, and then slinked around the perimeter to see if there were any obstacles to his entry. Luckily for him, it was a Saturday, and so the dwarfs were not working. Oh, and there were seven altogether? Well now. James had definitely made the right call by bringing a small army with him.

The dwarfs were cooking, cleaning, and lounging about. Completely oblivious to the outside world. Perfect.

Without warning, James kicked in the door and strode inside with his entourage. The dwarfs yelped.

“YOU!” Doc shouted. “I knew ye weren’t trustworthy! How’d you find us? What d’you want?”

“I want to know how you tracked me so far into the woods.”

A collective gasp.

“It rained last night, you idiots. You really think your boots weren’t going to leave footprints in the mud?”

Doc and Happy exchanged a look.

“You took her, didn’t you!” boomed another dwarf. “I bet the Queen sent ya. You give her back right now, y’hear?!”

“Wait—who’d he take?” asked Martinez.

“Grumpy, that won’t solve anything,” Doc cautioned, as his housemate balled his hands into fists and marched toward the intruders.

“HA! His name is Grumpy?” cackled another one of the pirates.

“You’ve all got some bloody ridiculous monikers, don’t you?” the captain jeered. “And no, I don’t do business with your stupid Queen. Now, gentlemen, I need your word that you will not set one foot anywhere near my property, for any reason. If you do not agree, there will be consequences. Understand?”

“Like hell!” growled Grumpy. “You bring back Snow White RIGHT NOW! If ye don’t, we’ll fight ya!” He made to grab his axe from its hanging place on the wall, but James snagged the dwarf’s shirt on his hook and held him suspended in the air.

“HEY!! You put me down this instant!”

“Not so fast, my cantankerous little grouch. And what makes you think I have Snow White?”

“There were footprints in the bedroom when we found her missing!” another dwarf called out. He went for his own axe, but one of the pirates grabbed him by the neck and squeezed. He didn’t release the little bugger until his body sagged and he fell unconscious.

“Good going, Mr. Morris,” James praised. “Ah, yes, as I was saying: what makes you think I have the princess? Just some footprints? That’s not much to go on, by way of evidence.”

“Oh, yes it is. And that hook of yours ripped the sheets when you grabbed her, didn’t it!” cried Happy.

“And you made her bleed!” Grumpy seethed, shaking a fist in the captain’s direction. “It was only a drop, but it shouldn’t have been there at all! What the hell’d you do to her?!”

The other dwarfs tried to form a circle around the pirates, to attack them from below, but the larger men were too quick. And James was too fed up with the squirming cockroach stuck on his hook. While his crew began pummeling the other dwarfs, he grabbed Grumpy by the neck, held on until the dwarf’s face turned blue, and then skewered his throat with his hook. Dark red blood drenched his shirt and dripped onto the floor.

“ANYONE ELSE want to defy me?!” James bellowed, holding up Grumpy’s corpse and waving it around. “Anyone else want to end up like this??”

“I’d really just...like to know...w-why,” stammered Happy.

“Why WHAT?”

“Why’d you take her? She was such a sweet girl. We loved her. She never hurt nobody.”

James scoffed, and strode over to Happy. “You DARE tell me that you love MY princess?! When you want to take her away from me? For that alone, you die.”

Martinez grabbed Happy’s beard and swung him around like a lasso. “Can I do it, Captain?” he asked.

“Oh sure, go right ahead,” James chuckled. “I’m rather enjoying the show.”

Grinning wickedly, Martinez grabbed Happy’s leg and continued swinging, faster and faster until the little man was screaming for relief.

Relief came in the form of his body slamming into the wall, and his skull cracking on impact. The sickening crunchwarmed James’s jealous heart.

The remaining dwarfs looked on with watery, wide eyes and trembling mouths. Wringing hands. Twitching legs. Hatred burned in their eyes. The pirates responded by sneering and flexing their arms, as if daring the dwarfs to have another go at them.

“Oh, and by the way...where is Snow White’s missing shoe?” James quipped in a conversational tone. Completely unfazed by the bloody corpses lying on the floor.

“It’s in—hic—Grumpy’s knapsack,” Doc sniffled. “Over there.”

“Thank you kindly.” James strutted over to the knapsack and retrieving the slipper. “Now, should any of you try to locate me—or Snow White—a second time, remember that you will meet the same fate as your fallen comrades. Do I make myself clear?”

The dwarfs nodded. Heavy tears streamed down their snarling, twitching faces.

*   *   *

“Who’s this Snow White?”

“Where’d you take her?”

“What do you want with a princess?”

The queries assaulted James as soon as the buccaneers departed the dwarfs’ cottage. He found the clamoring offensive—not to mention childish. Hadn’t anyone ever taught them to take turns speaking, rather than shouting over each other like a group of babbling toddlers?

“I take issue with this questioning,” the captain snapped. “Particularly yours, Mr. Morris. You have a problem with my  wanting to be near a princess?”

“Oh, n-no, Captain. I wasn’t...y’know, judging you or anything.”

“Come with me,” he ordered, gesturing with his hook. Morris followed.

They walked into the woods behind the dwarfs’ cottage. Out of sight of the other men.

“I—I do apologize if I overstepped, Captain,” Morris stammered.

“Thank you, me lad. I appreciate that. Now, you see that spot over there?” He pointed vaguely behind Morris, and to the left.

When Morris turned to look, James gave him the same treatment he’d given Grumpy. Morris didn’t even have a chance to scream.

The captain did the same with the other three men, one by one, taking each of them to a place out of sight of the others, so they wouldn’t know what was coming to them. Since they remained ignorant until the very last second, they could not fight back.

Clean kills were always the best kills. James relished them.

If it hadn’t been for their use of the portal out of Neverland, he wouldn’t have done it. He only did what he had to do, to protect his most precious secrets. And those loudmouths would never have kept their traps shut about it all. Best to let bygones be bygones.

James bathed and changed his clothes aboard the ship, and then returned to his cottage.

*   *   *

Snow White was in the living room, playing piano. She stopped when she heard James approach.

Is his outfit different? I could’ve sworn he was wearing something else when he left. Or perhaps I’m just imagining things.

“Oh, princess, I have something for you!” James announced cheerfully. He cupped her chin and placed a kiss on her forehead.

She leaned into his caress. “What do you have for me? A gift?”

“No, dear. Something you lost, long ago.” He reached into his pocket and produced her missing slipper.

The temperature dropped ten degrees. Snow White forgot to breathe.

“W-where did you get that?” she whispered.

“I discovered it in the woods. A lucky find, wouldn’t you say?”

She would have been inclined to agree, if not for the drop of blood on the heel...along with the wicked smirk on James’s face, and the malevolent glint in his eye. She gingerly touched the blood, and recoiled. It was still wet.

“Oh, don’t get that on your pretty little hands,” he cooed. After taking the slipper away with his hook, he grabbed her hand and licked the blood off her finger.

She shuddered.

“You would’ve preferred having blood on you?” he teased.

She shook her head. Awful scenarios were flashing through her mind—but they were so terrible, she couldn’t allow them to fully materialize. She could now barely see James, with tears spilling down her cheeks.

Deep down, she knew what he had done. That drop of blood had told her everything. As did the lack of wear and tear on her shoe. If it had been in the woods since last summer, it would have sustained at least a little bit of damage: discoloration from rain and snow, a tear or two, and some chew marks from various animals.

Barring the blood, the slipper looked as good as new.

Snow White knew where James had found it. She knew what he had done to get it. And she knew she would break down if he ever revealed the details.

“Earth to Snow White....” James called in a singsong voice, waving his hand in front of her face.

The princess jumped.

“I thought you were committed to ceasing that behavior—what did you call it? Spacing out?”

“Oh, I—yes, James, I’m sorry. It was just a shock, seeing my slipper after so long. I wasn’t prepared. What did you say? I’m sorry that my attention wandered.”

“We’re moving.”

“Moving?”

“Yes. Unfortunately, I encountered some unexpected danger lurking in the forest, and it’s only a matter of time before it makes its way to our front door.”

Snow White gasped. “What danger? What happened in the forest?”

“Now now, there’s no need to panic,” he soothed, rubbing the back of her neck. “Nothing can hurt you, as long as you are with me. This cottage may not be able to sustain the...forces I’ve discovered outside the borders of our property—but thankfully, there are plenty of supplies where we’re going; so all we need to do is walk out the front door. And yes, it’s safe. I disabled the trap before coming back inside just now.”

After retrieving her other slipper from the bedroom closet, he carefully placed both shoes back on her feet and motioned for her to stand. She felt a little unsteady for a moment—it was the first time she’d worn her own shoes in almost a year. She’d only donned footwear once since the summer...and she didn’t want to think about what had happened that day. She hoped a repeat performance would not be waiting for them in the forest.

“There’s even a piano, where we’re going, so I’ll still be able to teach you,” he added as he led her deeper into the woods. “It won’t be too different from our life thus far; don’t fret.”

“That...sounds nice,” she offered, trying to sound enthusiastic instead of petrified. The sight before her made her stagger back a few steps. Why are we here? Oh God, please don’t make me touch that thing.

“This is a portal,” he explained. “It’s not an actual spiderweb—though it does look and feel like one. Rather ingenious, yes? No one would ever suspect its true nature, just from looking at it.”

“What’s a portal?”

“It’s a type of magic that transports people from one world to another. The place we are about to enter is unknown to most of humanity—the place where I’ve spent most of my time over the past several years. It is called Neverland, and its magical nature renders it nearly impossible to reach—except through this portal.”

“How did you find it?”

“By accident, really. A few years ago, I was out for a walk and I came across it. It is very ominous-looking, wouldn’t you say?”

Snow White returned James’s small chuckle, desperate for something cheerful to cling to. The dread welling up in her stomach was dangerously close to spurting out of her mouth. She silently willed her stomach not to expel its contents as she watched James cut his way through the portal to bring her through.

“Oh, and by the way...”

“Yes?”

“Those stupid dwarfs will never see you again. I had a little chat with them this afternoon—the ones that are left, at least—and they know not to go searching for you, under any circumstances. They put up a fight at first, but they gave in eventually. So you’re stuck with me. You’ll be living with me aboard my pirate ship, from now on.”

The princess blacked out and fell to the ground.

Chapter Text

Snow White had never seen so many men in one place. So many loud, sweaty, smelly men. The stench made her queasy. She gripped James’s arm tightly as he led her onto the ship—more tightly than she’d held on after he had roused her from her fainting spell.

James apologized, noticing her green pallor and her free hand clutching her stomach. He insisted that he’d tried encouraging his crew to bathe more often, but most of them hadn’t done it. And as long as they performed their duties properly, he ignored their lack of hygiene. Still, he promised to be harder on them from now on, for Snow White’s sake. She thanked him.

And she thanked the stars above that she did not suffer from seasickness.

“Ahoy, a girl!” shouted one man.

“And a mighty pretty one at that!” yelled another, barreling over to the pair. “I say, what a beauty she is!”

“It’s been too long since I saw one of those!” growled a third. He sprinted past his comrade, hoping to touch the prize first. “Lemme have a closer look at h—”

“YOU’LL DO NO SUCH THING!” James hollered.

His crew shrank back.

“She is MINE. If any of you dare to lay a finger on her, I will cut off your hands. Now, stand back. Clear the way!”

While Snow White wasn’t exactly thrilled about her new home, she was relieved that James wasn’t letting any of his unwashed subordinates harass her. So she now had a grand total of two things to be relieved about: lack of seasickness, and the absence of sweaty men in her personal space.

She had to count her blessings when she could.

“Hey Captain, where’d the others go? The men who left with you earlier today.”

James sighed loudly, with his eyes downcast for extra effect. “I regret to inform you that your comrades met a terribly unfortunate end, at the hands of our opponents.”

“Sorry to hear that, Captain. Are you looking for replacements?”

“Not at the moment. But thank you for asking. I say, now, where is Mr. Smee?”

“He’s bathing, Captain.”

“Good,” James replied. At least one of his men had gotten the memo.

*   *   *

Having no belongings but the clothes on her back, Snow White didn’t need much time to settle into James’s private quarters aboard The Jolly Roger. Too dazed from the horrifying news about the dwarfs, she simply sat on the edge of the bed, fidgeting and sighing every so often.

James didn’t notice. He was too lost in his thoughts, angry about the unexpected turn of events that had forced him to abandon his cottage—perhaps forever. That would not have happened if Snow White hadn’t tempted him with her beauty and made him upend his entire life. It was all her fault. She was supposed to have made his life easier; but lately, she’d only been making it harder. If he didn’t love her so much, he would probably throw her overboard.

Also making his life harder was the green-clad imp taunting him from the skies. Snow White saw Peter Pan flitting around in the air every so often, while traversing the ship with James, but the boy never came close enough for James to strike. This enraged him. Snow White listened quietly while James stormed around his room, ranting and raving about the boy who was always just out of reach of the perfect kill shot.

Apparently, Peter had managed to return Wendy and her brothers to London while James had been entertaining Snow White at his cottage. His crew had filled him in on the details: Pan had gotten close to the ship a few times, and taunted the pirates with his success in getting the three children out of Neverland.

James didn’t care so much about that; he’d only seen Wendy as a bargaining chip. Had Wendy not come between Peter and Tinker Bell, thus allowing James to manipulate the fairy into revealing Peter’s hideout, James would have had no use for Wendy. Her brothers had been dead weight, anyway. He was only concerned with Peter, as he explained to Snow White, pacing around his room and throwing his arms up in the air.

Now, he was back to square one: Peter was alive, he had a new hideout unknown to James, and he kept narrowly evading capture.

Snow White racked her brain for something to divert his attention and calm him down.

“What’s that?” she asked, pointing to the glass cage on James’s desk. It was glowing faintly, but she could not pinpoint the light source.

“Nothing that concerns you. Don’t go near it. Doing so will gravely injure you.”

Snow White opened her mouth to reply, when the first mate knocked on the door.

“What is it!” James barked.

“He’s back again, Captain!” called Mr. Smee. “Peter Pan. He might actually be within killing range.”

“Speak of the devil! I can’t even get five bloody minutes of peace, now can I.”

Still, he did like the idea of eliminating the boy right after having sustained such heavy losses on the mainland. He told Snow White to relax and get comfortable, before following Mr. Smee onto the deck, gun in hand.

*   *   *

Tap tap tap.

Snow White wasn’t sure she’d heard the tiny rapping sound, or if she’d imagined it, so she ignored it.

Tap tap tap.  

There it was again.

Tap tap tap.

The princess looked around frantically, feeling panic rising once again as she noted that nothing was out of place. No one was knocking on the door. Nothing had fallen over. What was that sound? Was it even real? Was she losing her mind? Now that she thought about it, had her mind already gone long ago?

Tap tap tap.

And then she saw it.

Tiny, pale yellow hands hitting the glass cage three meters away. Blue eyes widening in fear and desperation.

Snow White’s breath caught in her throat.

Whatever was inside the cage, it was trying to get her attention. James had told her that the crate was dangerous, and yet....

The princess felt like an external force was lifting her from the bed and guiding her to walk over to James’s desk. She couldn’t help it. She didn’t care about the risk.

The sight before her brought tears to her eyes: what looked like a tiny glowing doll, with blonde hair up in a bun. The creature had the body of a grown woman, but it was barely larger than her entire hand. How in the world was this a hazard?

Can you hear me? came a muffled little voice from inside the glass.

The princess nodded.

The blue eyes grew wider. You understand me?

“Yes!”

No one else can. Did you learn somewhere? How to communicate with fairies?  

“You’re a fairy?” Snow White gasped.

Yes.

“Are you dangerous?”

The fairy scoffed. No more than a butterfly.

“But why would James have told me—ah, nevermind. So...you’re surprised that I can understand you?”

Very much so. I communicate with humans through my body language—I think it’s a lot like a game they play, called Charades. You’re the first human I’ve ever met, who actually understands me when I speak.

“Well, I can communicate with animals. It’s a special gift I’ve always had. I didn’t realize my ability extended to fairies as well! What are you doing here, though? Why are you in a cage? Fairies shouldn’t be in cages!”

Captain Hook captured me. Twice. He thinks he can use me to lure Peter Pan back to the ship, because of how close I am with him. Hook wants to kill Peter more than almost anything in the world.

“Because Peter cut off his left hand, right?”

Yes. And he deserved that. But he plays the victim and acts like Peter is the real monster.

“What?!”

He keeps taunting me about how Peter has deserted me, and that he fell in love with this girl Wendy, from London...and now he must be shacking up with her on the mainland. Hook tells me all the time that Peter has forgotten I exist; that I likely had never meant anything to him. And he continues prattling on, even after I’ve burst into tears. He enjoys making me suffer. I want to kill him, but I am not strong enough.

Blood pounded in Snow White’s ears. She had so, so many questions, with no idea where to start. She figured that introductions were more important, anyway.

“I—I consider it an honor to speak with you,” she said. “And you look like you need someone to talk to. Do you have a name?”

Tinker Bell.

“That’s a lovely name. I’m Snow White.”

I know. Hook told me that he was bringing you aboard. You’re the princess, right?

“Yes. Did he say anything else about me?”

That you wouldn’t be happy about the abrupt change of scenery, but he didn’t care.

“He...didn’t care? But...why would he not care if I was upset? He’s always talking about making sure I’m happy, and safe, and protected, and—”

So he’s, what, keeping you as a pet?! Did you consent to this?  

The princess recoiled. “That’s...a very rude thing to say, Tinker Bell. And of course I’ve consented to being with James. He cares for me, he tells me he loves me all the time, he provides for me—he’s even been teaching me to play the piano! He’s...all right, I will admit that some of his behavior is upsetting; but he always makes up for it after he calms down. I don’t want to make him feel bad for making mistakes, because no one is perfect. And I know he loves me. I love him, too. It’s not always easy, but I do love him.”

What has he done lately, to make you feel loved?

Tinker Bell’s voice, as small as it was, had just taken on a much more aggressive tone. Despite the fairy being miniscule enough for the princess to step on, Snow White suddenly felt like a foolish child being reprimanded. The fairy’s aura loomed large over her shaking form.

“I—well, like I said, he provides for me. And he’s very patient with me. I have problems, too. I’m selfish and inexperienced in relationships, but James has an endless capacity to tolerate my shortcomings.”

That’s not what I asked, princess. I asked how he makes YOU feel loved. And for God’s sake, please stop calling him James. He’s Captain Hook. He’s a monster. Monsters shouldn’t have ordinary names.  

Snow White’s blood ran cold.

She had thought that exact sentence after James had introduced himself, at his cottage.

Her view of him had softened over time—especially after he’d explained why he’d been so violent in his acquisition of her, and why he’d thought that behavior necessary. He’d even apologized. Monsters didn’t apologize for their villainy; they didn’t feel guilt or shame. Monsters were not committed to bettering themselves.

And yet this man had captured Tinker Bell with malicious intent. Recently. He had caged an innocent living being, to use as a bargaining chip. That act showed a complete lack of compassion and respect for other people’s feelings. Only monsters behaved that way. Only monsters imprisoned the innocent.

Monsters shouldn’t have ordinary names.

You didn’t answer my question, said the quiet voice inside the glass.

“What? What question?” Snow White felt so blindsided, her mind had gone blank. She’d forgotten what the fairy had asked her only seconds earlier.

I asked what Hook has done lately, to make you feel loved.

“Well, he—ah, it’s a tad embarrassing, but he...you know, pleases me.”

Tinker Bell scoffed. OUTSIDE the bedroom, princess! What has he done to make you feel VALUED? Touching your body doesn’t count. That’s only lust; not love.

All Snow White could do was stare blankly. She groped around in the dark crevasses of her memory, trying to find just one illustration of James’s love.

“He...cooks for me, and cleans, and reads to me, and—”

His love language is not acts of service; I can tell you that much.

“What?! What do you mean? What’s a love language? And why do you think his acts of service, as you put it, don’t count for anything?”

Did you ASK him to perform any of those acts for you? Or did he just INSIST on doing it all, and then throw a fit when you didn’t react the way he wanted?

Snow White shuddered.

He doesn’t love you. He doesn’t care about you. He feels entitled to you. That’s it.

“But he protects me! He says that he keeps me inside to shield me from the Queen, and from anyone else who might want to harm me. Surely, he has some goodness in his heart?”

No. Not a drop.

“How can you SAY that, Tinker Bell? You don’t understand! He—” 

No. Stop lying to yourself.

“I’m not lying to my—”

Yes, you are.

The princess wheezed and wiped her eyes.

It is not my intent to upset you, Snow White. I’m sorry for my forceful tone. But it hurts me to see how much Hook has, well...broken you down. Whatever shortcomings he thinks you have, you don’t deserve to be treated like this. You shouldn’t have to be his pet. You deserve so much better.

BOOM!

“Oh my goodness! What was that?!”

Cannonballs.

BOOM!

“What are they for?! Oh, they’re so loud!” The princess hugged herself.

Hook shoots them into the air every time Peter approaches the ship; he’s trying to kill him. It happens a lot. I never know if one of those cannonballs will be the thing that actually does take Peter out. And Hook just keeps coming back in here, sneering and jeering and strutting about, while telling me how Peter is going to perish one day soon, and I’ll be powerless to save him. He knows how much I love Peter, and he relishes the pain I’m in.

Snow White wheezed again.

All the heat had left the room. The parallels between her own existence and Tinker Bell’s could not be ignored.

Not only had Captain Hook captured both of them, but he’d also tried—or at least threatened—to kill the men they loved. And he’d enjoyed their resulting distress.

Tinker Bell gave Snow White a knowing glance. I could tell you were not with him willingly; I figured he’d captured you and kept you prisoner, like he’s done to me.

“He...he did capture me,” the princess conceded. She told Tinker Bell the gruesome story, and how James—Captain Hook—had made her feel like she was contractually obligated to fall in love with him.

He doesn’t love you. He doesn’t value you as a human being. Can you see that now?  

“I—I suppose. I don’t know. He is affectionate with me; and he’s always been interested in bonding with me emotionally and, you know...physically. That must mean something, right? He cares about my happiness, my health, my, um...pleasure, and—”

No.

“Why not? I always wondered if he just had some...issues in his mind; but it did seem like he was trying to improve. I have mental health issues, too, so I figured we were a suitable match. He recognized my psychological problems long before I did, because I was so hung up on this prince who wasn’t telling me how he felt. James—”

HOOK!

“Sorry. Hook...has always been direct in expressing his feelings. The prince never did that, in all the years I knew him. I figured that that candor demonstrated how much more mature J—Hook was, and that he really did love me. He does, I mean. He does love me. I’m sure of it.”

Tinker Bell shook her head.

“You don’t think so?”

No. It’s an act. He did it to me, too: right after capturing me the first time, he pretended to feel bad about my heartache. But he was only using my jealousy of Wendy to get me to trust him. He manipulated me into revealing Peter’s hideout, and then dropped a bomb on him.  

“WHAT?!”

I grabbed it out of Peter’s hands at the last second, and the bomb detonated as I was throwing it into the ocean, to get it away from Peter. I nearly died in the process. My weakened state allowed Hook to capture me a second time.

“Oh my god, Tinker Bell. I’m so sorry!” 

And now he’s doing it to you, see? He told me that he had to get you off the mainland, to avoid discovery. He said that he has to keep you all to himself. That’s not love; that’s possession. That’s entitlement. He doesn’t love you. He sees you as an object, and a means to an end. Just like me. Tell me, Snow White, why were you in such distress when Hook brought you aboard the ship? 

“I...well, I’ve never been on a ship before, and I just...well, with all those stinky and lusty pirates swarming around, I was afraid that—”

I’ll have you know that he was muttering to himself this morning, when he thought I was asleep—he was saying something about dwarfs he’d met in the forest, who had asked him if he knew you...and how he was going to go to their house and kill them, to make sure they couldn’t rescue you.

Snow White couldn’t believe what she was hearing. But Tinker Bell’s words were not a wild conspiracy; they echoed what Snow White’s own instincts had been telling her, from the moment she’d spotted that drop of blood on her shoe.

The fairy continued speaking harsh words about Hook’s true nature, which Snow White did not want to hear—and yet she couldn’t summon the motivation to plug her ears. She tried to reason with Tinker Bell, but her own convictions were failing her.

Captain James Hook really was a monster. Snow White had never been the problem. It had been him all along. She was the victim; not the perpetrator.

All she could do was sit there on her knees, rocking back and forth as more and more bright lights filled the dark recesses of her mind. The blurred, foggy parts of her psyche were coming back into focus, for the first time in months, to the sound of a tiny fairy’s mighty presence.

Snow White’s eyes welled up. “We’re—we’re both prisoners, aren’t we,” she stammered.

Tinker Bell nodded sadly.

The princess buried her face in her trembling hands and began to weep.

When she lifted her head up, Tinker Bell was staring at her with a haunted look in her eyes. Silent tears were streaming down the fairy’s delicate face. Snow White extended her hand and pressed it against the glass, to meet the small fingers that were reaching out for her. An unspoken understanding surged between them.

Chapter Text

Snow White had been onboard The Jolly Roger for three weeks. During that time, more terrible truths about Hook had emerged; the princess squeezed in as much time as she could, to talk to Tinker Bell. Her new friend was the breath of fresh air she hadn’t known she needed.

Not only was the fairy unveiling all the details of their captor’s true character, but she also provided a luxury that Snow White had never experienced: camaraderie. Her animal friends had cuddled her and helped her with chores when they could. The dwarfs had sung and danced with her, and they’d done their best to cheer her up. But none of these past companions had ever been on her level. Never in her life had she spoken to someone like an equal—and more importantly: someone who understood her experience. Both the princess and the fairy were Hook’s prisoners, who had been forcefully separated from the men they loved.

While Tinker Bell and Peter Pan had not been romantically involved, their relationship had been intense enough that the fairy empathized deeply with Snow White’s plight, as the princess told her about Florian. Neither of them had any idea if they would ever see their men again, and under what circumstances. For the time being, all they had was each other. It would have to be enough.

*   *   *

“I’m going to be ashore most of the day,” Hook announced one morning. “Mr. Smee will bring you breakfast and lunch. Do you have enough piano material to occupy yourself?”

“Yes, thank you,” Snow White replied in a flat, airy tone.

She had taken to speaking emotionlessly anytime Hook addressed her. Granted, she had been unconsciously approaching this point for a while, before her captor had killed the dwarfs and dragged her aboard his ship; but it felt more empowering somehow, now that she was fully aware of what she was doing.

It became one more way for her to distance herself from the captain. One more way for her to keep parts of herself out of his reach.

James didn’t understand what was going on in Snow White’s mind; but he sensed that something was off about her. He couldn’t put his finger on the exact moment when the shift had occurred—not that it mattered. Her change in demeanor had become unbearable. He needed her to come back to him.

What on Earth is her problem? he thought, watching the rise and fall of her chest as she stared off into space. She was supposed to be looking over her most recent piano assignment; but she didn’t seem to be absorbing the information in the music book. He’d have to talk to her about that later.

In the meantime, an idea had formed in his mind. He knew that it was the answer to his problems. There might not be much he could do aboard the ship, but one particular act on the mainland would prove his devotion to the princess. An act he should have performed long ago.

His hand shook in anticipation when he placed a dagger in his belt. He had to force himself to breathe steadily while rowing himself ashore, traipsing through the forest behind Skull Rock, and crossing the portal to transport himself back into England. Perhaps for the very last time.

He grinned as the leaves and fallen twigs crunched beneath his feet. Coming back here had been a gamble, but it was a risk he was more than willing to take. Even if he were to encounter the remaining dwarfs in the forest, or that prince, it wouldn’t matter; Snow White was safely secured on his ship. Her old friends could bluster and throw tantrums all they wanted, and vow to rescue her, but they were ill-equipped to do so. With the knowledge of the portal—and Snow White’s whereabouts—being his, and his alone, he would always have the upper hand.

No one from the outside world would see his princess ever again.

*   *   *

It took him an hour to locate the castle; but he eventually found his way, based on Snow White’s stories—told when she’d been speaking to him in more than three-word phrases. God, he couldn’t wait for their next proper conversation. It had been too long. He needed to hear her sweet voice again. He needed to behold her vivacious nature, to see her smile, to make her laugh.

But first, he needed to talk his way into this colossal edifice.

Clearly, the owner of this imposing estate did not entertain many visitors. There were several towers, a moat, and a few balconies. The heads on pikes outside the front door sent a stern message, too. James wondered how long the heads had been out there, how often they were replaced, and how long this practice had been going on. Did anyone ever complain about the smell? The pecked-out eyes? The flies buzzing all around?

“You there!” called a male voice. “What brings you here? State your business.”

“Good day, sir,” James replied with a graceful bow. “I am here to see the formidable Queen Grimhilde.”

“For what purpose?”

“I’d like to make a deal with her. I have something she desperately wants.”

“And what might that be?”

“A way to render her the most beautiful woman in the kingdom—or, as she often puts it, the fairest one of all.”

The guard took a step back. “How—how do you know that phrase?”

“A trusted source.”

“And this source’s name is...?”

“The girl she once tried to kill, out of jealousy. She was unsuccessful.”

“S-Snow White?” the guard gasped. “She’s alive?!”

“Very much so. And I’m inclined to help our dear Queen change that.”

The guard appeared conflicted. It was obvious to James that he had a conscience, and was therefore relieved to hear that Snow White had not been murdered. However, he had a duty to his Queen. A duty that sent a shiver down his spine as he glanced at the decapitated heads a few meters away.

“Right this way, sir,” he ordered. James followed him into the castle.

*   *   *

“Your Majesty,” the guard announced. He and James bowed to the despot. “This man claims to have something you desperately need.”

“Who is our guest?” Grimhilde asked.

“My name is Captain James Hook, your Majesty. I command a ship off the coast of—”

“The captain!” Grimhilde exclaimed, shooting to her feet. “The captain who has...ensnared my stepdaughter?!”

“The very same, your Majesty. And she has been giving me great trouble. I thought it only fair that I ask for your assistance in...solving the problem. Doing so will, I believe, restore your status of fairest one of all.”

“Leave us!” Grimhilde spat at the guard.

He turned on his heel and left the throne room.

“Now, let’s talk business,” the Queen drawled conspiratorially. “You want to kill Snow White, I presume?”

“Yes, your Majesty. The girl has not been behaving to my satisfaction, and so I see no reason to keep her alive. Your huntsman failed at this task, yes?”

“And the bastard’s head earned a spot outside my door for that.”

James chortled. “A most fitting end, my Queen! I commend your rigidity; your authority never wavers.”

“Indeed not.”

“So,” James cleared his throat and offered a wry smile. “I’m hoping your Grace will forgive my curiosity—I understand that you had given the huntsman a box, in which he was to deposit Snow White’s heart?”

“Yes, and the blithering idiot brought me a pig’s heart. He thought I wouldn’t realize!” She began pacing around the room. “Oh, James, the rage I felt was beyond words. I was amazed my own heart didn’t give out, upon discovering the truth!”

She was getting riled up, and treating him as a confidante. An accomplice. His plan was working.

He waited for her to finish venting before delivering the final blow. “I realize this is a rather bold request—and of course I will accept your answer, should you refuse. Please forgive me if I am overstepping. But...would you entrust me with this box, and allow me to succeed where the huntsman failed?”

The subtle twitch of the Queen’s mouth signaled her acquiescence. She walked over to a corner of the room, where sat a chest of drawers. Rummaging around for the box, she did not see or hear James creep up behind her, raise his dagger, and plunge it into the back of her neck.

A harsh rattle, barely audible, tore from the Queen’s broken larynx as she convulsed and fell to the floor. James withdrew his knife, flipped Grimhilde onto her back, and thrust the blade into her still-beating heart. It gave the captain enormous pleasure to watch the Queen thrash in the throes of death, knowing that she was able to feel him carve the distressed organ from her chest. It was all the captain could do not to cackle at the top of his lungs.

*   *   *

“You there!” the guard called as James strutted down the hall, with his blood-soaked jacket draped over the box Grimhilde had given him. He’d turned the garment inside-out to hide the stains, and washed his face and hand in the nearby basin, but he must have still looked dodgy anyway. His performance wasn’t over yet.

“Yes, me good sir?” James replied, masking his twitch of annoyance with a face-splitting grin.

“Where is her Majesty?”

“Queen Grimhilde has found herself in need of a siesta. She will be resting for a while, and she has asked not to be disturbed.”

“Really. What was the substance of your discussion with her?”

“A matter most private. Are you sure you want to impose on your Queen when she has requested space? You know her temper as well as I.”

“It’s not imposing if I am checking on her wellbeing after an interaction with a suspicious stranger. You are—”

“You call me suspicious?” James stepped in closer and held his left arm up to the guard’s face, so the man could see his hook. “What are you implying? I am an ally of the Queen; and if you dare to treat me like an enemy, there will be a serious problem.”

The guard flinched. “H-how do you figure?”

“Who else is here? Who is going to back you up? I see no one; you are the only person patrolling this corridor.” James made a point to look around with wide eyes, for emphasis.

The guard touched his scabbard—only to be met with a sharp pinprick on the nape of his neck.

“If you attack me, or call for help, you will never see the light of day again,” James hissed. “I can slit your throat faster than you can retrieve your sword. So, this is how it’s going to go: you will calmly escort me out of the castle, and assure any wary passersby that we are on an errand together for the Queen. You will keep your weapons holstered, your face in a neutral expression, and your arms at your sides. Do you understand me?”

“Y-yes, sir,” the guard stammered, trying not to whimper as a drop of blood trickled down his neck.

*   *   *

James departed the castle with a spring in his step, whistling to himself as he strutted through the forest to return to Neverland. There was some crusted blood under his fingernails, and his coat was ruined, but that was a small price to pay for the reward that awaited him aboard The Jolly Roger.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this excited—probably the day he’d captured Snow White. Perhaps this was a full-circle moment, during which he and his princess would revamp their courtship upon her recognition of exactly how devoted he was to her.

She would throw her arms around his neck and thank him. She would kiss him passionately. She would cry tears of joy, upon hearing that Grimhilde was dead and thus no longer a threat. Her elation would then give way to arousal, and he would fuck her until her legs gave out.

His cock was already half-hard when he stepped into his private quarters. Snow White was relaxing on the bed, looking at the ceiling. A common position for her, these days. Hopefully, his impending announcement would put an end to that.

“I went to visit your dear stepmother today.”

“What?!” The princess bolted upright and scrambled out of bed. “You—you saw the Queen? How? How did you get there? What did she—”

“We had a little chat. I pretended to agree with her belief that you should perish, in order to win her trust.”

Snow White shivered. “Did she...believe you?”

“Oh, yes. It was laughably easy to convince that stupid woman that I was on her side. All I had to do was spout off her fairest one of all nonsense, and her gullible guard let me right in. She even showed me the box in which her huntsman was supposed to have placed your heart! I asked to see it, and she was only too happy to oblige.” He held it up for her, delighting in the squelching sound that came from within.

“But...why would you bring me that? If you love someone, you don’t bring them something so—”

The captain’s eyes narrowed. He felt his face heating up. His grip on the box tightened.

“I do love you, Snow White, which is why I went to the trouble of completing this errand today. I’ve been feeling you pulling away from me for months, and it’s been—forgive the pun—tearing my heart out. I’ve spent so much time wracking my brain, trying to figure out how to show you exactly how much you mean to me; how determined I am to keep you safe. I will eliminate any adversary who wants to harm you...even if doing so requires that I risk my own safety! Which I did today! Do you not understand the danger I put myself in, by going inside that castle?!”

“I still don’t—this doesn’t make sense. Why would you put yourself in danger, to bring me this box that—that the Queen wanted to use to hold my heart?”

“Because I thought a little poetic justice was in order.”

“Poetic justice? What do you mean? And what’s that...coppery smell? It’s making me queasy.”

James unlatched the box and relished his anticipation as he slowly opened the lid, allowing the princess to see the result of his efforts. His most supreme act of love. His grandest gesture of devotion. His lips began to turn upward as he pictured the girl’s reaction.

Snow White doubled over and vomited.

Chapter Text

“Ohh, right, you’re squeamish. I forgot,” James drawled as Snow White retched. You can’t bloody be serious, princess. Maybe I really should have killed you.

“That’s—cough—disgusting. Oh my goodness....”

“MR. SMEE!!”

“Aye aye, Cap’n!” called the first mate as he barged into the room. “Oh! Well, that’s a right nasty—”

“Clean it up, Smee.”

“On it, Captain.”

James used the uncomfortable moment to try and calm himself. He slowed his breathing, rolled his shoulders, and cracked his neck to release the tension there. It didn’t do much. Another wave of rage rocked his body, making his head twitch. And then another one swelled, after Mr. Smee scurried out the door with the mop and dirty rags.

“How are you this ungrateful, Snow White?!”

“Ungrateful? What...how—”

“I killed for you! I love you so much, I voluntarily put myself into enemy territory. I might have sacrificed myself, had my plan gone wrong! This...” He gestured to the box, which was now leaking all over the floor. “This would have been yourheart, if that huntsman had lacked a conscience! I’d have thought you would be a bit more grateful.”

“But that’s just so—”

“So what, Snow White? Have you forgotten that your dearly departed stepmother was the very reason you ran away? The very reason you found yourself stranded in the middle of the forest, crying to the wildlife to find you shelter?”

“Of course I haven’t forgotten! I just—”

“You’re free now. Because of ME! I killed Grimhilde so you would never again have to worry about her finding you—and either killing you herself, or sending someone else to do it! I guarantee she’d hired a new huntsman who wasn’t such a bleeding-heart—ha! Oh, and there I go again with the puns. I’m in rare form today....!” He threw his head back and cackled.

Snow White’s lips parted, but she said nothing.

“What’s the problem, my love? Do you still not see what a spoiled rotten bitch you’ve become?”

“I’m not a bitch—and you’re not a romantic hero. You’re a monster.”

She may as well have slapped him. So he thought it was only fair to do the same to her.

“A monster?!” His palm connected with her cheek and sent her sprawling to the ground. The little brat should’ve considered herself lucky he’d used his hand, and not his hook.

“Y-yes! Heroes don’t cut people’s hearts out, no matter what they’ve done! It’s inhumane!”

“What she did to you was inhumane! If I’d let her live, you would still be in danger. Again: you’re free now! Because of me! And you can’t even spare a thank you for my efforts?!”

“No. You’re no better than she was. You’re as much of a monster as she was!”

Something snapped inside James.

“You want a monster?” he roared as he hoisted her to her feet. “I’ll give you a monster. You deserve one, after treating me this way.”

He threw her onto the bed with such force that the mattress bounced. The instant she tried to sit up, he pushed her back down and hiked up her skirt. After peeling off her panties, he shoved her skirt up even farther, so that it now trapped her arms over her head and blocked her vision. Which was fine. She didn’t need to see what he was about to do. And he didn’t care to see her face at the moment; he only wanted to use her tight little cunt. That seemed to be all she was good for these days, anyway. He owed it to himself to indulge, after the atrocious day he’d been having.

“Please don’t! Stop! Please!”

“Please don’t stop? That was exactly my plan, gorgeous. If that was what you wanted, all you had to do was ask.”

Her muffled cries only egged him on. He pumped his fingers, determined to arouse her even as she verbally resisted. In fact, he found that he quite liked the interplay of her remonstrations with her moans and squeals when he hit that sweet spot deep inside her. After making her come twice, he threw her legs over his shoulders.

Five more minutes passed before he was ready to see her face again. He was still angry; but he also missed the expressions she made while he fucked her. After pulling her skirt down until it rested beneath her chin, he bit her neck harshly. She screamed.

“Your cries are a drug to me, d’you know that?” he mumbled gruffly in her ear. “Maybe one day, I really will eat you for hours, like I once told you I would.”

The princess wheezed.

James’s cock twitched and pulsed inside her, driving him to snap his hips even faster. The lubrication around him may have been blood at that point, but he didn’t care. Her cunt would heal eventually. The pain in his heart, though? Not so much. Nothing could reverse the girl’s betrayal.

“Look at me!” he barked.

Her eyes fluttered open, and then squeezed shut again. Like they always did when he was shagging her. He was bloody sick of it.

“LOOK AT ME!”

“I—I did....”

“Not just for half a second, you daft broad! LOOK at me. Keep your eyes open! Stop shutting me out!”

She did so—but not the way he’d wanted. It was obnoxiously clear that she was forcing it. Her eyes opened as if shocked, with her eyebrows raised. Her face remained in that position—punctuated with the occasional squeeze and grimace. It apparently took physical willpower for the princess to simply make eye contact with him: her partner of almost a year, who had upended his entire life for her. After so much time spent together, and after all he had done for her, she couldn’t even look at him with lust or affection.

He struck her again. “Moan my name!!”

“What?! I—”

“MOAN MY NAME! You’ve never done that; not even once!”

“J-Jame-s....” Another grimace. She’d also trailed off at the end; she couldn’t say his single-syllable name in full, without struggling. What a fucking joke. And she had the nerve to tell him she loved him.

“Good god, woman! Say it like you actually mean it, and then maybe I’ll believe you!”

“I mean it! I promise!! Ja—”

“Bollocks, princess. If you can moan another man’s name in your sleep, you can moan my name when I’m inside you! You are MINE, do you hear me?!”

Snow White began to cry in earnest.

James continued berating her until long after he had reached his climax, but she couldn’t hear him. She couldn’t really hear anything. Her entire head and neck felt clogged with tears and blood and mucus. Rolling his eyes, her demonic bedfellow threw her skirt back over her face and pressed the fabric against the mattress.

If I suffocate, it will be a mercy. Even dying couldn’t be worse than this.

How had she gotten here? How had she been able to convince herself that she was in love with Captain Hook? He’d kidnapped her, forced her into a relationship with him, and trapped her in his home—and now, he’d raped her. Which she’d known he would do all along, since the moment she’d first woken up in his bed, after having fainted from sheer fright.

She felt on the verge of fainting again now, after having been assaulted with foul-smelling air clogging her nose. The aftertaste of her vomit had lingered, and it was growing stronger as her exhalations were once more trapped under her skirt. But it still felt better than having to look at the captain’s snarling face.

What was it about him that made me think I needed to love him? How was I so sure that I found him appealing; even a little bit? There’s nothing remotely warm or handsome about his face. He looks cruel, no matter how he’s feeling. Even his smile is scary.

More fog was lifting from the mutilated corners of Snow White’s mind. It felt as if her very consciousness were waking up from a coma and stitching itself back together. The truths she had tried to stamp out were rising back up, like a squishy ball that had been squeezed too hard—and it had just been released.

I do not love him. I don’t even like him. I cannot breathe when he is near me. I cannot endure this farce of a partnership any longer.

Her stomach began burning and bubbling again.

Frantically clawing at her skirt to pull it off her face, she tumbled to the floor and grunted as her knees hit the wood. She barely had a chance to right herself, and pull her skirt down, before she started heaving again.

Hook clicked his tongue, but otherwise didn’t seem too aggravated. “Just a bit of bile this time,” he remarked. “Not much to clean up.” He soaked a rag in a bucket of water and swiped at the mess. Snow White observed that he almost seemed devoid of emotion, whether he was looking at her or at the floor. That scared her far more than his rage.

Something is wrong with him. And it is not my fault; he was damaged long before he’d ever laid eyes on me. No amount of love can cure this. If he really loved me, he would not treat me this way. I would never dream of treating anyone this way, no matter how I felt about them. This is not a relationship; this is a hostage situation.

“You deserved that,” Hook scolded, as if he’d been privy to her thoughts.

She found that she lacked the strength to fear further punishment. There was no way this man’s behavior could get any worse.

*   *   *

Snow White didn’t even want to know how Hook was spending the rest of his evening. She heard random bouts of yelling and stomping around, and another few cannonballs—was Peter Pan back?—but she felt no inclination to find out the details. All she wanted was to be left alone, embracing the silence and stillness until the monster returned.

He came to bed late that night. Snow White feigned unconsciousness—which wasn’t too difficult, considering how exhausted she was. Mercifully, he completed his nightly routine in peace and got into bed without touching her at all.

It was only after Hook had fallen asleep, and his breathing had slowed, that Snow White heard the faint sound emanating from the corner of the room.

Tinker Bell was crying.

*   *   *

“Are you all right?” Snow White asked the pixie the next morning. Hook had strode out of the room immediately after they’d finished breakfast, allowing the princess to rush over to the glass cage.

Oh, Snow White, you really are too good for him. You’re too good for this whole world, you know that? You were just raped, and all you care about is how I feel?

Snow White slouched.

Do you not care about your own feelings?

“I—of course I do!”

It doesn’t seem like it. This makes me very sad for you.

The princess hung her head.

I like that you’ve begun standing up to Hook; but it still doesn’t look like you really value yourself. It looks like you’re just blowing off steam.

“It does...feel good to do that.”

I know. I can get mighty catty myself—you should’ve seen how I stomped around when Peter banished me from the island.

“He banished you?! Why?”

I, well—I tried to get the Lost Boys to kill Wendy.

“Tinker Bell!!”

I know. I know. It was awful. But I’ve had a lot of time to think, being stuck in this cage, and I’ve realized that I don’t want to act that way anymore. I can see how much I hurt Peter—and Wendy didn’t deserve to be attacked. I was a jealous little brat. I wish I could take it all back, but I can’t. I’ll probably die in here and never see Peter again.

“Is there...really no way for you to escape?”

Not unless Hook unlocks my cage. There must be a key somewhere; I just haven’t seen it. I was half dead when I woke up in here.

“I’ll see if I can—”

The door abruptly swung open.

“GET AWAY FROM THERE, PRINCESS!”

Chapter Text

Snow White jumped back so forcefully, she fell on her bottom.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Hook roared. “Why have you defied me?! I told you not to go near that crate!”

“Why? Because you didn’t want me to have a friend? I thought you wanted me to be happy!”

“Of course I wanted—want you to be happy! Just...not like this!”

“And what is that supposed to mean, exactly?”

“It means—ugh, just follow my rules! You know that!”

“It may interest you to know that Tinker Bell was crying last night. And this morning. She saw everything you did to me, and it devastated her! I daresay I was trying to comfort her as much as she was trying to comfort me.”

James did not like Snow White’s abrupt change in tone. Where had his demure, polite princess gone? Who was this sassy little cherub who was turning up her nose at him?

“What in the world do you need to be comforted about?!” he snapped. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m the one who’s been doing all the work here. You’re not even trying to reciprocate in our relationship. And come to think of it, you never really have.”

“WHAT?!”

“It’s true, Snow White. Stop denying it. At my cottage, I cooked for you, I cleaned for you—hell, you’d pretty much reduced me to your servant—and I virtually surrendered my life of piracy for you! For almost a year! Not to mention, I gave up sexual satisfaction for you, because I had to wait so long for you to be ready for that! And even after you said you were ready for intercourse, you never pleased me. I had to do everything. I think I can count on my one hand how many times you have put your mouth on me in the past three months! And now, as if that wasn’t enough of a slap in the face, I catch you breaking the ONE rule I have set for you aboard this ship?! This one simple rule that should be ridiculously easy to follow!”

“How can you lambast me for wanting to have a friend? Apart from animals, I’ve never had a friend in my life! Does that not bother you?”

“No, Snow White. Friendless though you may be, that was the last straw. You thought what we did last night was too much? That was nothing. Lie down right now, and do not even lift a finger to resist. If you do, I will kill you.” He pressed the tip of his hook against her throat.

The princess flinched, but strode over to the bed without a fuss.

“I am done waiting for you to accept that you’re mine.”

“But I already know that; I’m not leaving you!”

“Of course you’re not. You’re not leaving my side, and you’re not leaving my bed. Not for the next hour. You haven’t fully gotten the message—but you will now.”

Growling again, he ripped off her clothes. He offered a silent prayer to whatever deity had blessed the girl with small breasts, and therefore in no need of a brassiere. It was just her dress, shoes, and knickers. Which were now on the floor, in tatters.

Ignoring the tears streaming down her face, he grabbed a few lengths of rope from inside a box next to the piano.

“W-what is that for?” she blubbered. “Am I s-s-supposed to do...this?”

He laughed loudly at the look of mock docility in her eyes as she raised her arms above her head.

“Ohh, no no no. Not this time. Arms down. Flat on the bed.”

She followed his instruction, with her eyes narrowing. He fastened each of her wrists to the bottom bedposts.

“And now the real fun begins,” he drawled, while fetching two more lengths of rope. Kneeling before the shaking princess, he grabbed both of her ankles in his hand and began pushing them up.

“Ouch!”

“Bend your knees. Then it won’t hurt.”

Once she obeyed, he tied her ankles to the bedposts above her head. Her knees were now almost level with her face. Her sex was up in the air, slightly bobbing up and down in time with her fearful panting. His cock strained against his trousers once more—and since the princess could not get away, he decided to take his time.

He removed his clothes and began stroking himself, aroused as much by the sight before him, as by its symbolism: power. He had total control over Snow White’s fate, in and out of the bedroom. After only two minutes, he was coming all over the sheets next to the girl’s head. His hips stuttered as he imagined what he would be doing to the poor girl in a moment, and how powerless she would be to stop him. She could scream, cry, and squeal all she wanted; but she would barely be able to move a muscle.

That was the best position for her, he decided: in his bed, immobilized, with her most intimate parts offered up to him like a gourmet meal.

He was going to be indulging in this banquet for quite a while.

It always excited him to really savor the moment, before he began. Pressing his nose against the soft, creamy skin of Snow White’s thigh, he inhaled deeply, allowing her alluring scent to fill him up. How she could still smell so intoxicating—after living on a pirate ship for weeks—was beyond him, but he wasn’t complaining. He rubbed her inner thighs several times, and added the occasional stroke with his hook, just to make her jump. He wanted her terrified and aroused in equal measure.

And he was now so aroused, he could hardly string two words together in his mind. He was rock-hard once more. At this rate, he would probably come on the sheets again—he was going to be tormenting the princess for some time before fucking her.

Flattening his tongue against her sex, he dragged it up slowly and then curled the tip upon reaching her clitoris.

Liiiiick.

“Ah!”

Liiiiick.

“Oh!”

Liiiiick.

“Ahh!”

He kept this up until her folds began to moisten. In this position, he realized he could drive his tongue deeper inside her than he’d ever done before—oh God, how had he never thought to do this sooner? Frustration boiled in his heart as he recognized exactly how much he had deprived himself.

His vexation only made him want to devour the girl even more. He needed to make up for lost time. And with her tied down, he had plenty of time at his disposal.

In and out. In and out. His tongue fucked her slowly until it glistened with fluid. Sliding it back inside, he licked up and down and in wide circles, stretching her out; he was determined to learn and memorize every crevice of her body as he sucked her essence into his mouth.

And the princess had the nerve to not make a sound. No moans, no whimpers, no cries, no heavy breathing. No nothing. And she sure as hell wasn’t saying his name. She probably wouldn’t do that ever again, unless he put a gun to her head. And even then, the tone in her voice wouldn’t convince him of her loyalty. The bitch.

The delicious bitch, whose quivering folds were betraying her will to remain unaffected. She was giving in, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

He replaced his tongue with his fingers, burying them up to the knuckle. Wet as she was now, he was able to pump hard and fast. And though she granted him a few gasps and moans, she wasn’t coming. Her inner muscles were clenching, but not pulsing or fluttering at all, like they normally did when she was approaching her climax.

She was also gritting her teeth. God almighty, she was trying not to come.

“Ohh, you will pay for this,” he hissed.

“For what?!”

“You’re resisting me! You’re trying to avoid having an orgasm. I can see it on your face, and I can feel it in your body. Therefore, I will now work my absolute hardest to deliver the most mind-bending pleasure you have ever experienced. You will enjoy being with me. You don’t have a choice. You’re mine.”

Rotating his left arm, he rubbed the curve of his hook against her clitoris while pumping his fingers. Her first orgasm rocked her but thirty seconds later. She cried in frustration as much as she moaned in pleasure.

It was music to his ears.

After a few more rounds in this fashion, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her quivering nub. His lips lingered on the bundle of nerves, relishing the feeling of it pulsing against his mouth.

Soft kisses became hard ones, and he was soon flicking his tongue without surcease. He didn’t stop until the princess had physically ceased responding—after six orgasms, her clitoris had grown numb.

But he wasn’t done yet.

He’d always loved the taste of her anus by itself; but it drove him absolutely wild when her juices had dribbled into the puckered hole after she’d climaxed. She was now so drenched—as was his mouth—that fluid was dripping in between her cheeks and onto the bed.

No, she is most definitely not aroused, he thought, chuckling to himself. Because I haven’t just swallowed countless gulps of her, in between orgasms—and somehow, she’s still sopping wet.

He flicked his tongue over her rear entrance, burying his nose in her folds as he did so. God, he would never tire of that scent.

The hole clenched—the defiant princess was squeezing her cheeks together, trying to keep James out! It was only after he pressed the tip of his hook into one buttock, making her jump, that he was able to slide his tongue inside. He stroked inside the tight canal for a while, and then gave her clitoris an experimental pinch. She gasped.

The little bundle of nerves had regained feeling. Snow White shivered as he grinned against her most sensitive parts; she clearly knew what he was about to do.

While feverishly licking inside and around her anus, his fingers began rubbing her clitoris. He stroked lightly at first, to see how much she could handle; if she could feel heavier pressure again. After a few minutes, he was massaging hard enough to send her over the edge once more. And he continued stroking, even after her body had stopped convulsing. She didn’t deserve a break; instead, he was going to break her. It wasn’t difficult to keep overloading her, as she couldn’t exactly move away from him. And she was so drenched, his fingers continued moving easily.

Several more orgasms tore through her. She screamed and screamed and screamed.

James reluctantly withdrew his tongue, and licked a stripe up to her navel.

“No one else can do this to you, princess. No one! Remember that! Not that prince, not those stupid dwarfs—”

“What?! I would never have had sex with the dwarfs! That’s disgusting! I viewed them as...almost as my children!”

“Just making sure, love.”

After stroking himself a few times, he untied Snow White’s legs, hoisted them over his shoulders, and pushed inside her slick heat.

He thrust viciously. He wasn’t even interested in how his cock made her feel; not anymore. All he wanted to do was make her come, hard, regardless of her mood. That was the only way she’d know that her body was always under his control.

This was the only control he still had over her. The harder he’d squeezed, in every other area of their life together, the more he’d felt her slipping away. This was all he had left.

She didn’t deserve to control her own body, he decided. She’d hurt him too much. She’d given him false hope about the life they could have led—only to snatch it away. And as long as he lived, he would take great pleasure in punishing her for that betrayal.

Despite his anger and fear, he was still aroused beyond the point of words. He was proud of himself for getting Snow White so soaking wet, regardless of how much she protested, and then being able to fuck her into oblivion. She was now moaning like a wanton slut. He imagined everyone aboard the ship could hear her cries. Maybe they would even grow jealous of their captain, knowing that they’d never be allowed a taste of his treasure.

His arousal mixed with pure, raw power over his princess. He was so turned on, he began to cackle—something he had not done in years.

And so commenced the strongest orgasm of his life.

Snow White looked ready to die by the time James untied her limbs. Her eyes were glassy and glazed over. She didn’t seem to register that it was him she was seeing; it appeared that she wasn’t looking at anything. She probably didn’t even notice all the tears that now streaked her flushed face. Her arms hung limply across the bed, like an angel’s broken wings. Her shallow breathing barely made a sound. James made to tease her about her look of utter defeat, when her lips parted. She swallowed hard and spoke.

“There never were any spikes, were there.”

Chapter Text

James’s head twitched. It took him a second to grasp what the princess was talking about—he’d been basking in the afterglow of the best sex he’d ever had, and the first thing Snow White wanted to talk about was...his lawn?

He wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction. If she could ruin the moment that quickly, he would strike back. Brutally. He would break her down even more than he’d already done.

“What are you talking about, dear?”

“Your house. You told me I couldn’t go outside because there were spikes in the grass.”

“I said no such thing. Are you sure you’re feeling all right? The post-orgasmic haze is very potent, you know. Perhaps if you rested for a while—”

“No. You said it. I remember.”

James frowned. He’d expected her to argue, but he had thought her voice would have sounded harsh—maybe even frantic, as she began to fear for her sanity.

He had not expected her tone to be so...lifeless.

“I clearly recall the moment I realized you’d been lying to me,” she continued, in this hauntingly listless air. “You were here, aboard the ship, and I was alone. On a bright, sunny day, I opened the curtains and saw a deer running across the lawn. It didn’t step on any spikes. It ran freely, and remained uninjured.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You forbade me from opening the curtains as well, when you were away. Do you not remember that?”

Of course he remembered it. He remembered all of it. The tale about the spikes. The warnings to stay inside. The orders to keep the curtains closed and never even touch the front door, much less open it. He’d known that fear would keep her in line more than anything else. And for the longest time, it had worked like a charm. Her fear of him, and her ensuing reverence, had taken the edge off of his anger with her for failing to fall in love with him properly—the way he had done, with her.

He didn’t have much love left for her, but he still wanted her obedience. And her current line of questioning was not cutting it.

“In case you have forgotten, my dear, you are not in charge here. I am. I am the captain of this ship, and the man who dictates your life. You cannot take care of yourself; have you forgotten? You need me. Your behavior right now is only proving my point: you’re telling tall tales; feeding delusions; and inventing stories about my supposed transgressions from months past, because you need to play the victim and attack me with your agenda of blame and resentment. I will not tolerate your wallowing any longer. You have created this mess for yourself; and you cannot foist the blame onto me, simply because I’m not enabling you anymore. You need to watch your tone, princess, and address me with the proper respect! Do you understand?!”

Snow White blinked slowly a few times, but her face otherwise remained blank.

James felt his face heating up. He was reacting more strongly than she was. It was supposed to be the other way around! He wanted her hysterical, as confirmation of her mental illness! How could she flip the script and pull the rug out from under his feet, usurping his power without even lifting a finger?!

He grabbed her hair and pulled her face close to his, until their noses touched. “DO YOU UNDERSTAND, SNOW WHITE? YOU OBEY ME. YOU DEFER TO ME. YOU TREAT ME WITH RESPECT, AND YOU FOLLOW EVERY SINGLE ONE OF MY GOD DAMNED RULES, WITHOUT COMPLAINT.”

He released her hair and watched, with bated breath, as her head hit the pillow.

She didn’t even flinch.

“Do you understand?!” he growled again. “You obey my every command! Do not ever question or defy me again!!”

Her voice was airy and soft. “All right.”

The captain could only gape at his princess, who still regarded him with glazed eyes.

What had happened to her?

*   *   *

Hook was ashore, indulging in one of his favorite activities: searching for Peter Pan’s newest hideout. Since the captain had bombed Hangman’s Tree, the boy had found himself a new shelter. And as Hook was getting tired of wasting cannonballs on the boy, he’d taken to traipsing around the island himself. Doing this also gave him a way to blow off steam, over his rut with Snow White. He was avoiding her now. Both of them knew it.

He was still powerful, he reminded himself. He was still the mighty Captain James Hook. If he could command a fearsome pirate ship for years, and find a portal that no one had ever noticed before—and kill emotionlessly to keep it a secret—then he could locate a stupid boy. He had vented his frustrations to Snow White after countless failed expeditions, but he had not given up hope.

Snow White could not say the same.

Her train of thought followed the same track it had been on for the past three weeks, since the last time Hook had raped her: It was now the end of June. Almost a year since her captivity had begun, with no possibility of escape. The princess could endure the torment no longer.

Upon fleeing Queen Grimhilde, she had jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire. The flames were now burning her to a crisp. She’d had enough.

No one was coming to save her. No one was ever meant to. She had always yearned for a loving home; but she’d only ever been a prisoner or a caretaker. No one had ever taken care of her. The only man she’d ever loved had been nothing more than a teasing ghostly presence, flitting in and out of her life without any consistency or integrity. And her only friend was trapped in a glass box, feeling as miserable and helpless as she was. Tinker Bell was right: Snow White had never prioritized her own feelings. She’d never had the chance to do so.

She was going to do that now.

She gently tapped on the cage. Tinker Bell jumped, having been fast asleep, but she relaxed when she saw who had woken her up.

Are you all right, princess?

“I just wanted to let you know that—” Snow White grimaced.

What is it?  

“This is...the last time we’re going to see each other. I wanted to...s-say goodbye.”

Goodbye?! Why?  

“I’ve found a way to escape. Unfortunately, I can’t take you with me. So...I just wanted to tell you that I have...really, really enjoyed our conversations. You are a very special person, and I hope you find a way out of here one day. I am honored to call you my friend.”

Snow White, you’re scaring me. What are you talking about? What’s your escape route? Where are you going?

“I’m going to walk the plank.”

NO!! No, you can’t! Please! Snow White, please, just—

“I’ve made up my mind, Tinker Bell. There is no other way out. No one is coming to rescue me. You’ve helped me realize how awful my ‘relationship’ with Hook really was—and he has told me time and again that he will never let me go. Therefore, suicide is my only way out. I’d rather die than spend the rest of my life with him; a mere toy and concubine.”

Snow White, you can’t give up! I’m still hoping that Peter comes for me one day.

“I have no more hope. There is nothing left for me in the world of the living. Please try to understand.”

Tinker Bell shook her head, now sobbing violently. Don’t go. I need you. Please. You’re all I have! And...and you have me! We’ve had each other’s backs since Hook brought you here! Please don’t abandon me!

“Tinker Bell, you told me to prioritize my own feelings...and so I am. And anyway, you still have hope. I don’t. I have no one and nothing left.”

What about Prince Florian? Surely—

“If he loved me, he would have come for me by now, right? He would have found a way. He waited too long, and now it’s too late for us. And it’s too late for me. I’m sorry, sweet Tinker Bell, but I cannot stay a moment longer. I have to leave, immediately, while Hook isn’t around to stop me.

NO!

“Goodbye, my dear friend.”

Snow White! No! No! Please....

“Stay strong, you beautiful soul. Never dim your light.”

Snow W—

“Remember me.”

The fairy banged her tiny fists on the cage, screaming until her throat felt ripped to shreds. She even threw her body at the glass a few times, trying in vain to topple the cage to the floor and shatter it. All she succeeded in doing was dislocating both her shoulders. And still, she called out to the princess, begging her to come back.

Snow White didn’t look behind her as she left the room.

*   *   *

“Hey, you! Hey! Chickadee!”

“Hey, princess!”

“Pretty girl!”

“Sweet thing, the ol’ captain’s off the ship. He’d never know if you came to my cabin and—”

“Look at that pert little arse she’s got! You think she’d mind if I gave it a squeeze?”

“Princess! If I pinch your cheeks, will you squeal for us?”

“She ain’t allowed on deck without him, right? Maybe we should, ahem, punish her.”

Snow White ignored all the crude remarks as she made her way across the deck, squinting in the bright light of the midday sun. She’d considered sprinting, thereby moving too fast to be caught, but that would have only made her appear guilty of something. Hook’s crew would have swarmed around her like a flock of vultures. So she settled for walking at a normal pace—which felt agonizingly slow. Her heart pounded in her chest, her head, and even her fingertips; she was trying so hard to remain calm, but it was difficult with dozens of hungry eyes glued to her, and dirty mouths uttering even dirtier words.

Did any of these lunatics ever mind their own business?

Snow White subtly angled her path to the right, no longer walking in a straight line across the deck. After several more paces, she arrived at her destination.

“Get ‘er!” shouted one pirate. “She’s not allowed to do that!”

“Yer damn right! The captain will fry us up for dinner if we let her die!” A second man grabbed her ankle as she climbed up toward the plank.

“Get ‘er off! Get ‘er off! Stop her!!” Another tried to take a swipe at her, but missed.

Snow White kicked viciously at the pirate who’d grabbed her. The man fell backwards—he had not expected such a fight out of such a small girl, and so his grip had been rather loose.

Once she’d climbed onto the plank, the pirates shrank back. While they didn’t want to disobey their fearsome captain, they also didn’t want to risk falling overboard in pursuit of the girl. Snow White knew this, and so she took her time walking down the wobbly surface of the plank. She supposed she should have been nervous, but she felt only peace. Finality. After a lifetime of pain and suffering and ruffling the wrong people’s feathers, all she wanted was to go quietly.

The crocodile was hovering by the shore, waiting for a chance to ambush Hook when he emerged from the island—so at least she didn’t have to worry about being eaten alive. She could gracefully slip into the water’s embrace, uninterrupted.

The smell of the salty sea air felt more pronounced up here, with no other human bodies nearby. It was calming. A crisp breeze swam inside her nostrils and cleared her mind of its usual chatter. The sea seemed to stretch on forever; the deep blue water was a perfect contrast to the island of Neverland up ahead. The sun bathed everything in sight with a soft yellow glow. The trees in the distance seemed to sparkle.

A perfect view to gaze upon, at the end of life.

Snow White stood at the edge of the plank for a long time, barely registering the cries and shouts at her back. She mulled over her choices one last time.

If she turned around and retraced her steps, her life would become exponentially worse—Hook might even tie her to his bed at all hours, to make sure that she really couldn’t leave him again.

If she stayed where she was and followed through, she would never have an opportunity to build a better life, the way Tinker Bell still hoped to do. The fairy had insisted that there was always hope; there was always a chance that they could be rescued. But after so much agony, with no reprieve, Snow White could not find it in her heart to feel optimistic anymore. Not one spark of determination remained. She felt like she already had one foot in the beyond. There was nothing left for her here.

The princess smiled ever so slightly, in anticipation of freedom from her earthly vessel—which had caused her nothing but problems. She was ready to leave it behind.

After a final, slow inhalation, she closed her eyes and jumped. Wind billowed her skirt and cape as she fell. Her arms extended above her head. The ocean rose up to meet her.

.

.

.

And then the world turned upside-down.

Chapter Text

“Hey now, I wasn’t gonna let you fall!” an unfamiliar voice yelled over Snow White’s piercing screams.

“Who are you? What is going on?”

“Peter Pan at your service! I assume you’ve heard of me?”

The princess nodded and squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to see anything from this dizzying angle—not to mention the height. How high up were they?

“Sorry I scared you, Miss. We’ll talk more when we land.”

Thankfully, they were only in the air for another minute. Peter gently set Snow White down on a rock, so she could get her bearings. She buried her face in her skirt and began to cry.

“Aww, hey! It’s okay! You’re safe.”

“W-where are we?”

“The Indian encampment. I’ve been staying here as an honorary tribe member, since I rescued their princess Tiger Lily. Captain Hook had kidnapped her.”

“He has a flair for kidnapping princesses,” she sniffled, wiping her eyes.

“You’re a princess, too?”

“Yes. My name is Snow White. I live in a country called England, and Captain Hook took me from there.”

“England? I know that place!”

“Really?”

“Yeah! I brought three kids here from London not too long ago. Hook tried to kill them, and we had quite a battle aboard his ship. But I won, obviously, and then flew the kids home.”

“That sounds...terrifying.”

“It was pretty scary; I won’t lie. That ship is a nasty place. Speaking of which: I gotta tell you—I’d been watching that vessel since I first caught sight of you, and I knew ya didn’t belong there. I’m glad I was nearby when you tried to drown yourself. I can’t imagine what you must’ve been through, to think that dying was preferable.”

She sniffled again. “I didn’t think I would ever get out of there. Thank you for saving me.”

“Don’t mention it! So...what happened to you?”

In between bouts of hysterical crying, Snow White told Peter the sordid tale: her jealous stepmother, the huntsman’s warning, her capture from the dwarfs’ cottage, and her imprisonment with Hook that had lasted almost a year.

Peter stared, slack-jawed. While he’d gathered that Snow White’s predicament had been dire, he hadn’t realized it had been that traumatic. It was no wonder the poor girl had tried to kill herself.

But among all the terror and heartache, one piece of news lit him up like a cascade of shooting stars: Tinker Bell was alive.

I took her for granted, Peter admonished himself. I berated her and banished her, instead of acknowledging her feelings, and now she’s locked in a cage.

“Did she ever...talk about me?” Peter asked.

“All the time,” Snow White assured him. “She misses you terribly.”

“Really? I figured she’d still wanna give me the cold shoulder, after everything that went wrong.”

“Not at all. She told me that she’d acted like a brat and it had gotten her banished; but after having been imprisoned for so long, she’s realized that her attitude hadn’t gotten her anywhere. All she wants is to be with you. The hope that you’ll rescue her is the only thing that keeps her going.”

“Is there any way to set her free?”

“I don’t know. Her cage is locked, but I never saw the key. I have no idea where Hook keeps it. I looked everywhere: in his desk, under the rug, the mattress, inside his closet, even inside the piano—”

“I’ll put a rescue mission together. I’m sure we’ll be able to find something to use to break the glass, even if we can’t find the key.”

They talked for a while longer, trying to figure out the best way forward. Snow White revealed the existence of the portal, and expressed a desire to return to England—but she had no idea what she would do there. She had no home, and no one to trust. She couldn’t just start knocking on random doors, hoping that a stranger would show her mercy. And besides, Hook would probably go charging back through the portal himself, and chase her down.

She had nowhere to go.

Peter introduced her to the Indians—Native Americans, they corrected him—who readily accepted the lost princess into the fold.

“We will house you and protect you for as long as you need,” promised Chief Gomo. “Even if we must battle Hook and his goons.”

“Th-thank you, sir,” the princess stammered. “Do you think Hook will come here, looking for me?”

“It is likely that he will not. He has never much enjoyed his dealings with us; his capture of Tiger Lily was a shock to us all. We do not anticipate a second attempt, against you or her. But still, we will keep our wits about us.”

The captain had long ceased trying to invade their Neverland territory, explained the Chief, and so they didn’t see his anger as a serious problem; but they felt the need to proclaim their sincerity, just in case. Having been forcibly relocated from their Algonquin territory in Eastern Canada, they empathized with Snow White’s predicament.

What broke the girl’s heart the most was learning that none of the Algonquins could remember how they—or in some cases, their parents—had been uprooted and brought to Neverland: who had taken them, why they’d done so, and how the abduction had occurred. Not to mention how long it must have taken for them to learn English. All they knew was that they’d woken up one day, with only vague recollections of their former lives in Canada. Terrible dark magic must have been at work.

Bitterness and desire for vengeance remained, despite it being long after the Algonquins had solidified their domain in Neverland. This made them fierce and formidable opponents. They prided themselves on their strength, battle tactics, respect for nature, and the bonds they forged with one another. Most Neverland occupants steered clear of their encampment.

That night, as they sat around the fire, everyone sang and danced as they grew acquainted. The fire was warm, and it emitted a sweet, woodsy smell. A feast of roasted vegetables and seared meat paved the way for a celebratory evening: this was the second time Peter had rescued a princess, after all. The Algonquins wanted to honor him as much as they wanted to celebrate Snow White’s freedom.

The sounds of cheers and whoops and laughter filled the air as the tribe sang songs of battle and victory. Dozens of stomping feet created a pounding rhythm that Snow White could feel as she sat and watched in awe. The tribe moved as one colossal unit. The princess found the sight entrancing, if not a little intimidating. She wanted to join in the festivities, but figured that she would make a fool of herself; so she simply observed, and clapped when appropriate.

Peter did his best imitation of the Algonquins’ dances, but Snow White thought his performance a mockery of their polished choreography. Was he truly that bad of a dancer, or was he just making fun of his hosts? Did he respect them as much as he should have?

The princess wasn’t sure what to make of the boy. Peter was arrogant and a little too much of jokester; but he seemed to have a good heart underneath his shortcomings. And he wanted to do right by her. He was nothing like the monster Hook had made him out to be. Another falsehood the captain had fed her. Now that the veil had lifted, Snow White couldn’t believe how much the lies had piled up without her noticing.

In her current position, there was no other option but to trust Peter. The Algonquins were strong, as well—if they really were set on protecting her, it was likely that she was safe. At least for the time being. Once she’d figured out where she was going to go, she would reassess.

Since being kidnapped, she’d forgotten how it felt to lower her guard and relax, just a little bit. She thought it might be safe to do so now, but she still found herself shooting furtive glances all around, to evaluate her environment. Being surrounded by mighty warriors did diminish the amount of times she did this, however. She felt infinitely more calm than she’d done while living with Hook.

“Tinker Bell would have loved this,” she sighed as Peter came to sit with her. “All the bright colors, the dancing, the...freedom.” The tension in her shoulders began to ebb.

“Yeah, she would have,” Peter agreed. “We’ll get her back soon. But if you don’t mind me saying, we’ve got to worry about you first. You’re in far greater danger, as long as you stay in Neverland. Tink is in a sorry state as well; but Hook isn’t, you know...violating her. He doesn’t even touch her.”

“No, he doesn’t. He’s just keeping her in a cage, hoping that he’ll be able to kill you when you come to save her.” The princess paused to idly run her fingers over the rock she was sitting on. “She’s more likely to die of boredom than a physical blow.”

“And save her, I will. Also, now that I think about it, it’ll be better to help you get away first, because Hook will not be thinking clearly when he realizes that you’re gone. This defeat will make him less stable as an opponent.”

“I think you’re right. Especially if I’ll have been gone for a few days, by the time you attack. The longer I am missing, the more he’ll drive himself to distraction. His rage will blind him.”

Peter giggled.

“What’s so funny?”

“I can just imagine him, you know...losing his shit. Storming around and yelling at his crew, pretending to be in control—when actually, he’d be completely powerless, and afraid that someone would find out.”

Snow White frowned. “It’s not funny, Peter. Please don’t laugh. I saw him like that, and it was one of the most horrifying experiences I’ve ever endured. He is unstable and dangerous; not a clown. He threatened to kill me while in that state.”

Peter chewed on his lip and fidgeted. “Oh gosh, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

They were silent for a while, each lost in their own thoughts, before Peter spoke again.

“Say, um—do you have anyone we can reach out to, in your kingdom? I can’t believe that a princess doesn’t know a single soul on her own home turf. I know you said that Hook murdered the dwarfs; but you seemed to be holding back when I pressed you about anyone else you may know.”

Now it was her turn to chew on her lip.

Peter nudged her. “Whooo is it?” he jeered in a singsong voice.

Snow White found it aggravating that Peter could be so cheerful when she was so traumatized. It was one of the most noticeable ways that Hook had changed her. In the past, singing and dancing and positive thinking had always made her feel better—not one hundred percent, but there was an improvement. She had been able to find the silver lining in any negative situation.

Now, however, she found herself offended that Peter could tease her at all, about anything. Of course he’d recognized that the information she’d been withholding was of a romantic nature, and she knew it was normal to tease friends about such things. But nothing about Snow White’s existence felt whimsical anymore.

Someone like Peter Pan would never be able to understand that. He was forever in the body and mind of a child. A healthy child who could do virtually anything he wanted, without facing repercussions. He could even fly, for heaven’s sake. So, of course he was prone to superciliousness—and subtle disrespect toward the Algonquins. That made Snow White uncomfortable; their culture was not a joke. And they had done him a massive favor by welcoming him into their territory.

It was no wonder Hook despised Peter. The boy had amputated him and viewed the act as no more than a prank. Peter was nowhere near as ruthless as Hook, but he had some issues. Snow White decided that, though she would be eternally grateful to him for rescuing her, she would not miss him when they parted ways.

Peter poked her in the side. “Heyyy, where’d you go?”

“Sorry. I...zone out sometimes. It’s been happening a lot more since Hook abducted me.”

“That sucks. I’m sorry. So, um...who aren’t you telling me about? Back in England, I mean.”

Snow White swallowed hard, feeling her pulse pick up as heavy anxiety pressed down on her.

“You can tell me. It’s okay. I won’t tease you anymore.”

“All right. His name is Prince Florian.”

“I’m gonna guess he’s your boyfriend?”

Tears pricked at Snow White’s eyes.

“Ex-boyfriend?”

She shook her head. “Nothing...happened. We had a lot of potential—or so I thought—but he never told me how he felt. I figured I must not have been important to him.”

“I’m sorry.”

“One of the last times I saw him, he sang me this song that he said he’d written for me—”

“Was he lying?”

“I don’t know. I never had a chance to find out. Queen Grimhilde’s huntsman fought with him and made him leave the kingdom...right before luring me into the forest to kill me. And then I saw him a few months ago, when Hook let me out of the house, and...he caught us hugging, and he put a gun to Florian’s head, before the prince could say anything beyond shallow pleasantries.”

“Holy shit. That’s...that’s rough. I’m really sorry, princess.”

“Thank you.”

Peter rested a hand on Snow White’s shoulder—not playfully, but as a gesture of support. She felt the difference, and greatly appreciated it.

“Look, I don’t know how this guy feels about you; but I think he may care about you more than you realize. And I’ll bet you anything that he at least cares enough to bring you to safety. If I went through this portal, do you think you could tell me where I might find him?”

“I...I think so. Should I go with you?”

“Absolutely not. You’re staying right here, where the Indians can protect you. Hook has been searching all over Neverland, looking for my new hideout; I’ve seen him nosing around when I’ve been in the air. I don’t want you to unwittingly draw him in.”

Snow White sighed. She hated the idea of staying safely tucked away while Peter put himself in danger.

“It’s best for everyone if you remain hidden,” Peter insisted, “just like the Lost Boys. I’m not actually sure where they are right now, now that I think about it—they’ve had a tendency to keep to themselves since we moved here. I don’t think the tribe likes them too much. But at least we’re allowed to stay in the encampment.”

“Yes, all right.”

The celebration was beginning to wind down by this time. Snow White helped Peter and the Algonquins clean up and put away their drums before everyone turned in for the night.

“I will find Prince Florian and help him bring you to safety,” Peter told Snow White as she settled into the hammock the Algonquins had provided for her. “That’s a promise. I’ll go through the portal tomorrow.”

Chapter Text

“Tell me all about him,” Peter instructed Snow White over breakfast. Everyone sat cross-legged on the ground, munching on freshly picked fruits and nuts. “What does he look like? What’s his voice sound like? How does he dress?”

The princess answered all the questions about her beloved, which were much easier to discuss than the previous evening’s inquiries. When speaking about neutral details, purely for the purpose of locating the prince, Snow White didn’t have to think too much about his impact on her heart.

But, being the curious and mischievous imp that he was, Peter wanted to know all about that as well. Once they had gone over the practical specifics, the boy returned to prodding Snow White about her rapport with Florian. A few Algonquins gathered around as well, eager to hear the story of her lost love.

“I always worried that I was delusional,” the princess sighed. “I felt such a strong connection with Florian, and it seemed that he felt the same—but he always found a reason to run away when I tried to take our relationship further than sporadic secret meetings. I assumed that, if he loved me, he would have done everything possible to keep me close. But I couldn’t stop caring for him, no matter how much I reminded myself that he was behaving terribly. I didn’t understand what was wrong with me, or why he couldn’t just be honest with me.”

“But that changed at some point, right?” asked Peter. “You said that he wrote you a love song. He came to the foot of the Queen’s castle to sing it to you! He serenaded you! That’s one of the most romantic things I’ve ever heard. It makes me all warm and fuzzy inside...like I just had a hot, fizzy drink and it’s bubbling in my chest!”

One of the Algonquins shot Peter a strange look. He didn’t notice.

“Well...I can’t prove that the song was about me. That’s the problem. Florian told me it was; but he could’ve learned it somewhere and claimed that it was his original composition. He knew I wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference, being so cut off from the rest of the world. Goodness, he...he could have even written the tune for another girl, in his kingdom, and then told me it was for me, j-just to see if I was gullible enough to believe it!”

A few clan members reached out to comfort her—one hand rested on her left shoulder, another on her right arm.

“Tell us more,” interjected a woman named Little Feather, who had spoken with Snow White the previous evening.

The princess relayed the harrowing tale of Florian’s confession—which may or may not have been true—followed by the huntsman’s interference, and his fight with the prince. And, of course, the trip to the wishing well.

“Ahh, but don’t you see?” said Little Feather. “If this wishing well is accurate, then it is only a matter of time before Florian reappears. The prince behaved very badly in the past, yes; but then he risked his safety to come and see you. He sustained injury on your behalf. He knew that he was endangering himself by putting himself out in the open, to declare his feelings for you. I agree with Peter: that was a grand gesture of romance. You should take it more seriously. The wishing well only seems to further prove your coming future with the young man.”

“I agree,” added Tiger Lily. “And I’d like to know what happened when you encountered him in the forest, by Hook’s cottage. He was happy to see you, was he not?”

“He was shocked at first—and then happy. And confused. He couldn’t believe it was me. And then he ran to me and wrapped me in his arms and—”

“He looooves you!” Peter interrupted.

“—and he...cupped my face in his hands, and he had wet eyes; he’d thought I was dead. He asked me if I was all right, and he told me that my hair looked beautiful, and I—” She wheezed and began to cry at the memory, given that this was the moment when Hook had arrived and threatened to kill Florian. It took a few more minutes for her to finish telling the entire story, as she grappled with each swell of emotion.

A heavy silence fell over the group.

“He loves you,” stated a man named Keme, with finality. “He wants to be with you.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I...feel it. I feel the energy of your words. You speak of Hook, and I feel cold tension in my gut. You speak of Florian, and I feel light inside. And didn’t you tell us last night that your animal companions loved Florian—while they were so repulsed by Hook, they couldn’t even bear to approach his cottage? Not even to check in on you?”

“I—well, yes, that was true. At first I thought he really had put spikes on his lawn, like he’d claimed after kidnapping me, but then I started to wonder if there was just some...force that was repelling them.”

“His energy spoke for him, and likely poisoned every centimeter of his property. Animals do know when someone is good or evil, and I guarantee that they avoided Hook’s territory because they recognized his malevolence. Whether human or animal, the body does not lie, princess. Feel the energy coursing through you. Your body is a highly intelligent being. You do not listen to it. You do not trust it.”

“I don’t know how! I’ve spent the past year becoming less and less aware of my body, as Hook would—well, he would have his way with me. Trying not to feel my body allowed me to keep some space between us, even as I had somehow convinced myself that I’d found him attractive, to an extent.”

The clan exchanged looks of concern.

“Try it now,” offered a woman called White Dove. “Think about Florian. How does your body feel? What type of energy is present?”

Snow White closed her eyes and envisioned the prince. Warmth flooded through her. Her shoulders relaxed. Her lips parted. She exhaled with a soft sigh, and unconsciously placed her hand over her heart.

“How does it feel? Tell us.”

“Home,” the princess breathed. “It feels like home. Like I belong. I feel alive. The thought of being with him feels...natural. He’s everything I’m attracted to. I feel a...I suppose it’s a pulse, of some sort.” She ran her hands up and down her arms, which had suddenly broken out in goosebumps.

“I feel it, too,” remarked Little Feather, who was rubbing the gooseflesh on her own arms. “The energy in this space is...buzzing. I sense that this Florian is a far more significant force in your life than you are willing to accept, simply because you have no proof at this time. But when Peter finds him, you will see. Have faith.”

“Is there some weird cosmic shit going on here, or is it just me?” quipped Peter. “I gotta admit, I don’t know much about this energy stuff...but even I feel something.”

“I guarantee that he loves you,” insisted another man named Samoset, who pointedly avoided looking at Peter. “It appears that he has merely struggled to figure out how to acknowledge his feelings. It is not always easy to be so vulnerable, especially for a young man. But his more recent actions speak of love. He endangered himself to tell you how much he cared. He would not have done that if you’d not affected him so; had you not filled the missing space in his heart.”

Snow White’s jaw dropped. Another wave of goosebumps blanketed her skin.

“What’s wrong?” asked Tiger Lily.

“That—that sentence. It...keeps showing up, and I don’t know if it means anything, or if I’m just crazy.”

“Would you stop calling yourself crazy already?” Peter drawled. “I swear, you got more brains in your head than all the Lost Boys combined! You should just—”

“What sentence?” asked Little Feather, ignoring the boy in green.

“You fill the missing space in my heart.”

“It’s a profound statement,” remarked Samoset. “How has it appeared in your life?”

Snow White shifted in her seat as she began to tell the tale: the dream about the love letter from Florian, followed by Hook’s utterance of the phrase in question, followed by the appearance of the sentence in the book he read to her—which had reminded her of her not-quite-relationship with Florian, and the potential she’d felt they’d had. And even as chills raced up and down her body, she still insisted that the phrase probably meant nothing.

The clan members exchanged looks again, nodding to each other.

“This is no coincidence,” stated Little Feather. “Such synchronicities are divine messages. We receive them all the time, being open to such communication.”

“There is more to life than the five senses,” added another woman named Tagwanibisan. “You are not crazy. You are not mentally disturbed. You are psychically gifted—and unfortunately, most psychic people grow up believing that they’re crazy. Many cultures shun the supernatural. This happens because there is no scientific proof that paranormal perception is real.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. You are receiving messages from a higher power, and recognizing them for what they are. Listen to them, princess. Stop being so afraid to trust yourself.”

“Easier said than done.” Snow White wiped her eyes.

“We will help you,” promised Little Feather, resting a comforting hand on the girl’s knee.

*   *   *

“Captain, we have a bit of a...situation,” said Mr. Smee.

“What kind of a situation? Did Pan come aboard while I was searching for him? Did you scurvy brats let him escape again?!”

“N-no, sir, not exactly,” stammered another pirate. “It’s...the princess.”

James rolled his eyes. “What did the little bitch do this time?”

The pirates regarded their leader with widened eyes and raised brows—when he’d first spoken of Snow White, she may have been a goddess from the great beyond, come to rescue him from his misery. Now, she was little more than a dog. A misbehaving pet who needed to be brought to heel.

“She...well, she escaped.”

“I beg your pardon?!”

“I—I’m sorry, Captain. We didn’t help her, or hand her off to anyone. She walked the plank.”

James twitched. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be. If Snow White were to die, it would need to be by his hand; not because she’d taken that choice away from him! He’d long since decided that. She had wounded him enough already! After all the suffering she’d brought upon him, she now had to treat him to the grossest humiliation possible? This was worse than if she’d been snatched up by that Florian, or if she’d slept with one of his crew. Even if he were somehow able to retrieve the princess from the bottom of the ocean, he couldn’t bring her back to life. He may have his kinks, but he most certainly did not want to fuck a corpse.

“She...walked...the plank,” James repeated, forcing himself to say the words that he was not yet ready to believe.

“Yes, Captain. It was just like with that girl Wendy, remember? She walked the plank, and Peter Pan rescued her.”

“None of us saw Pan, sir,” Mr. Smee added. “He must’ve been hovering near the ship, below our eye level. But when Snow White jumped, and there was no splash—just like with Wendy—we figured what must’ve happened. And then we saw the two of them flying toward the shore. She was screaming.”

“Let me get this straight,” snapped James. “In the time it took the princess to walk from my cabin onto the plank, not a single one of you idiots tried to stop her?!”

“We...we didn’t realize what she was doing,” confessed Mr. Smee. “It was the first time any of us had seen her on deck without you. We were confused. And anyway, you told us not to touch her!”

“Indeed, Captain,” said another crew member. “She—I daresay she caught us all off-guard. She had a weird look on her face. By the time she got up to the plank—”

“We didn’t realize what she was doing,” Smee repeated. “So none of us could, you know, charge at her and move her back toward your cabin. A few of us did grab at her when she started climbing, but...I guess we didn’t expect that much of a fight in her, since no one thought to grab onto her real tight, you know? And then...that was it. She just jumped and....”

“If I didn’t need each and every one of you to come and help me find her, I would throw all of you blockheads overboard!!” James screamed. “I cannot believe how helpless you fools actually are. Dozens of you against a little girl, and you still fail me?!”

He relished his crew’s fear and trepidation, while giving each one of them a death glare before continuing. Two of the men wet themselves.

“Now, not only do we need to find the princess, but we also need to find Pan and eliminate whomever is sheltering the two of them. God only knows where they are, or what kind of protection they must have, for Peter to have been able to remain hidden for so long!”

“We’re on it, Captain!” Smee declared. “What do you need?”

“Manpower, you fools! Weapons! Knives! Guns! Grab everything in your arsenal. And then join me back here. We will map out a plan, and then go ashore at first light.”

Chapter Text

James and his men had been creeping around for an hour, paying special attention to all the well-hidden areas notated on the Neverland map. They had come up empty. The only place left for them to search was the place they’d been avoiding: the Indian encampment.

Why hadn’t he seen it before? Peter Pan had rescued their princess Tiger Lily from his clutches. Of course they would offer him shelter, after James had blasted the boy’s previous home to Kingdom Come. Where else would he have gone? God, the answer had been in front of his face all along. He felt like kicking himself.

Adrenaline rushed through his veins as he approached his destination and heard familiar voices.

“There they are!” he hissed. “Martin and Jones, walk the perimeter and eliminate any guards that are stationed alone, or in pairs. Smee, find out how many people there are inside—and not just in this area, where we hear our dear Snow White’s voice. This encampment is large. Scout out the entire territory. Jennings, tell me if there are traps or other obstacles that will prevent us from moving in. Once we’re clear, we will surround the encampment and swarm in, taking the Indians by surprise.”

“Yes, sir,” the men whispered.

“While you’re doing that, I will stay here and listen to this conversation. Perhaps Snow White will reveal some damning information, since she believes she has privacy.”

Once his men had set off, James climbed a small rock face and peered through the trees. Snow White was sitting on the ground next to Peter Pan, surrounded by a small group of Indians. They were deep in conversation.

Snow White closed her eyes.

“How does it feel?” asked one of the Indians. “Tell us.”

“Home,” the princess breathed. “It feels like home. Like I belong. I feel alive. The thought of being with him feels...natural. He’s everything I’m attracted to. I feel a...I suppose it’s a pulse, of some sort.”  

“I feel it, too,” said another clan member. “The energy in this space is...buzzing. I sense that this Florian is a far more significant force in your life than you are willing to accept, simply because you have no proof at this time. But when Peter finds him, you will see. Have faith.”

It took all of James’s self-control not to burst onto the scene right then and there. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Not only had his princess admitted to still being in love with that imbecile Florian, but these blasted Indians were egging her on. They were encouraging her to leave Neverland—with Peter’s assistance!!—and abandon James. And judging by the rest of this conversation, as well as the supposedly supernatural nature of her feelings, she was making plans to do just that.

How dare she use spirituality as a battering ram against him! He’d been sure that his connection with Snow White had been divine, given her ability to commune with animals and his ability to speak to fairies. What did she have with Florian? A dream and a stupid phrase that wasn’t all that original? What would be next—someone saying You look lovely today, and she would take that as a sign from on high, because the prince had once told her that five years ago? What a fucking joke.

She was more deranged than he’d previously thought. She needed to be locked up, for her own good. And his bedroom would be the perfect place to intern her. God, he really had been doing her a favor by keeping her under his thumb. Legal adult or not, she couldn’t be trusted to be on her own.

James wasn’t sure what hurt him worse: the girl’s suicide attempt, or her change of heart.

Was it a change of heart, though? Or had she loved Florian all along, and her relationship with James had merely been a distraction for her as she tried to deny her true feelings? What the bloody hell was James—a sympathy vote? A charity case? Had she been using his body as a substitute for that boy? She may as well have been cheating on him! How dare she lead him on like that, and then act like SHE was the victim!

His blood boiled. His jaw locked. He didn’t even feel the blood trickling from his palm when his grip tightened around the tree branch. Now, he almost wished that Snow White had succeeded in killing herself, so he wouldn’t have had to hear this terrible truth.

His scouts returned half an hour later. The rest of the crew had remained in position while James had eavesdropped on Snow White’s confession. While the captain worried that his maddening jealousy would cloud his judgment—not to mention his skills in battle—he knew he could not wait any longer to recapture his princess. He needed to fight. Bloodlust rocked him on his feet.

“There are too many Indians scattered around,” sighed Smee. “There’s no way we can move them all into one place, to eliminate them.”

“I’ve noticed the same,” added Jennings. “We will struggle, no matter where we strike. The Indians outside of this area will come for us, once they hear the commotion. Since our primary goal is to capture the princess, I vote that we just grab her and then retreat as quickly as possible.”

“I agree,” said Martin. “Blood will be spilt on both sides. But with enough swiftness, we can make this battle a short one; we can take the princess and get out before most of the Indians realize what has happened. And if Peter dies in the skirmish as well, all the better.”

James begrudgingly agreed. On his signal, the pirates encircled the area and swarmed onto the scene with their weapons raised.

The feather-clad lunatics did not miss a beat. Just like James had suspected, they were trained for this. They all had munitions of their own. The small group charged at the swath of incoming pirates—with reinforcements spilling into the clearing, upon hearing their comrades’ war cries. The battle had begun.

Peter Pan grabbed Snow White and flew into the air, to keep the princess away from the fray. Holding her in one arm, he used his free hand to grab tree branches and hurl them at Hook and his men, to wound or distract them. Sometimes he succeeded, and sometimes he accidentally hit one of the Algonquins—usually when the captain had raised his gun to the boy at the exact moment that he’d made to toss a stick.

Both sides were neck-and-neck in the fight. The pirates were ruthless and brawny, while the Native Americans were small and light-footed—each warrior struggled to remain unharmed as much as they tried to pinpoint each adversary’s weakness. All while Peter was throwing things at them.

While pushing an Indian off of Mr. Smee, who was in danger of having his arm hacked off, James finally saw his opening. Peter was in between two trees, reaching for another branch to toss into the skirmish. The moment he glanced away from the battle, James threw a dagger like a javelin.

It landed in Peter’s leg.

The boy fell to the ground with a piercing shriek, releasing Snow White as he instinctively grasped his wounded limb. The princess went toppling down...and landed in the captain’s arms.

“FALL BACK!!” James shouted. His crew did their best to extricate themselves from the raging Indians, who were not so eager to let the invaders get away. The pirates fought off a deadly dance as they retreated out of the encampment, with at least four or five more men perishing underneath various knives and arrows.

The princess screamed and wriggled in James’s hold, until he jammed the tip of his hook into her hip.

“You’re not going anywhere, young lady!” he growled. “Not now, and not ever again!”

She replied with a keening howl, as if her skin were being ripped off—which may have been a fitting punishment, if James didn’t cherish her exquisite beauty so much. The squirming broad had no concept of how lucky she was.

*   *   *

Snow White couldn’t think. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t stop screaming. She couldn’t see in front of her...and she wasn’t sure if it was because she kept clamping her eyes shut, or if she was simply not capable of processing her surroundings anymore. Her mind could only loop the same five words:

He’s going to kill me. He’s going to kill me. He’s going to kill me.

She had no recollection of being carried out of the encampment, loaded into a canoe, and then hauled back aboard The Jolly Roger like a disobedient animal. She couldn’t hear Tinker Bell wailing. Her awareness blacked out the moment her captor dug his hook into her back and told her that she would never escape again. She only registered her location once more, upon being flung onto Hook’s bed.

“Do you realize how fortunate you are to be alive?!” he jeered. “I could kill you for this. I should kill you. For heaven’s sake, you tried to kill yourself—so I might be doing you a favor, at this rate!”

“I’m sorry! I’m s-sorry!” she sobbed heavily. “P-please don’t....” She wanted to stand, but her legs were too wobbly. She could barely feel them.

“Oh, now you want to live? And why’s that? Because those fucking Indians changed your mind about the prince?”

Snow White’s lungs froze.

“I heard every word, princess. Every bloody word. From your pining and wallowing, to that nutty spiritual garbage! I cannot believe you. All this time, you’ve been lying to me, haven’t you! I have bared my soul to you—I told you about my childhood trauma; I patiently waited for you to be ‘ready’ to engage intimately with me; and I bit my tongue as you supposedly worked hard to move past your infatuation with that stupid boy. No one should have to suffer so much on their partner’s behalf. NO ONE!!”

The princess parted her lips.

“NO! Don’t you DARE say a WORD! I’m not finished! Have you any idea how much I have endured on your behalf, especially with regard to that prince?”

As he spat that last word, a bit of saliva flew out of his mouth and landed on Snow White’s forehead. She winced.

“Do you know what this has done to me? After everything I’ve sacrificed for you, you’re STILL hoping to leave me for him! I heard you tell those Indians that he is everything you’re attracted to. If he’s everything you’re attracted to, then what the hell am I?! Even in my sleep, I cannot escape my torment, you know! The entire time we’ve been together, I’ve had a recurring nightmare about coming home from a day of hunting, and finding you and Prince Whatshisname having sex in our bed!”

“But I’ve never done that! I never touched him! We only hugged, and he just—he only kissed me on the cheek, or my forehead, once in a while! And I promise, he never came anywhere near the house—”

“And he never will! Now, let me tell you about these dreams: they started creeping up on me very slowly, you understand. So I tried to dismiss them as inconsequential fears; random bouts of jealousy that would diminish with time, the more you became invested in me instead of him. However, the dreams have amped up in intensity instead. One of the first sequences had you sitting on his lap, on my couch, kissing him. Another had you pressed up against the wall, while he ran his grubby hands all over you.”

“But we never did that, James! I promise! Not even close! It was never going to happen! Don’t you remember the first time you and I talked about him, when you called him a womanizer? You speculated that he was fornicating with another girl at that very moment...and that he’d even forgotten I existed! And you were laughing about it all!”

“Ha! Princess, I just wanted you to think that you were worthless to him, so you wouldn’t know just how threatened I felt by him. I thought that, if you lost all hope of beginning a romance with him, that would motivate you to hurry up and get over him, and then fall in love with me. Like you were supposed to do. But since that didn’t work, I can be honest now. I have nothing left to lose.

“Now, listen: my most recent dream of you two has felt the most vivid, and it has repeated several times: you are tied to the bed and he is on top of you. Heartbroken by the sight, I put two bullets in his head. Once I roll his body off of you, I grab a steak knife from the kitchen and say to you, ‘You pretty much just killed me, and so it’s only fair that I return the favor.’ And then I stab you in the heart.”

Snow White shuddered. “Would you—would you actually have done that? Would you do that...now? If that were real life?”

“Probably. Depends on my mood. But either way: he is your past; not your present. I don’t give a damn what those bloody Indians have to say about it. Let me make myself very clear, Snow White. Regardless of your stubborn refusal to move on, you will NEVER see that boy again. In fact, you will never leave this room again.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and rummaged in his desk until he found a bottle of rum. It was a quarter full. He unscrewed the cap and took a large swig. And then another. And then another.

“You can’t have any, princess,” he drawled.

As if she’d even wanted a sip in the first place. She could ill afford to lose her awareness again. She needed to remain clearheaded, in case Hook tried to attack her.

Fortunately, he seemed more interested in attacking his own liver. He drank until he began to sway on his feet, rambling on about the unfairness of his life, and how desperately he wanted “Prince Whatshisname” dead. He wouldn’t even say Florian’s name anymore; it was as if doing so would open a can of worms that neither of them had the capacity to examine. Especially not him.

Still holding the bottle, he collapsed in a heap on the bed.

“I needt-to do thisss,” he slurred, before taking another huge gulp. “Getting fitshace—shitfaced is the only thing that’ll stop me from killing you tonight, for what you are—what you are did—doing. What you are...doing. N-now, come over here and let me hoooollld youuu. I need to feel close you—close to you. You’re all I have in this wrrretched world.”

After Snow White warily climbed onto the bed, Hook wrapped his arm around her and pulled her against his chest. The smell of rum mixed with the captain’s natural scent made her want to retch, so she held her breath in increments, for as long as her tired lungs would allow.

Hook jumped when the empty bottle clattered to the floor, but then relaxed a moment later. Only when he drifted off to sleep did his grip on the princess slacken, allowing her to slowly...slowly...roll away. Once. Twice. She was now lying against his wrist, instead of his shoulder.

The captain snored. Snow White sighed in relief; he hadn’t felt her retreat from his embrace.

She winced as a sharp pain dug into the back of her neck. Sitting up, she felt around—her skin was unbroken, nothing was stuck to her dress, and nothing was caught on Hook’s jacket. Except....

A small crease on the inside of his sleeve, right above the cuff.

Having never examined his clothes, Snow White could see how she’d missed this curious detail. Double-checking that Hook was still asleep, she pressed her fingers to the area and discovered that the crease was actually a little zipper.

There was a small, ridged object nestled inside the hidden pocket. Snow White could feel the indentations through the fabric. Energy surged through her when she realized what the concealed item was.

A key.

Chapter Text

Is this it? Snow White asked herself. Has the answer been right under my nose this entire time?

Her hands shook as she pulled the zipper down, praying that Hook would remain unconscious. How deeply was the captain sleeping? How much sound or touch would wake him? What would he do if he caught her in the act? What if the key was a trap, and it didn’t actually unlock anything, and Hook had only placed it in that pocket to give Snow White false hope and then crush her spirit and then—

She needed to move. Now.

It took her half a minute to fully unzip the tiny pocket, because she kept sneaking wide-eyed glances at Hook’s sleeping form. Blood pounded in her ears. Her whole body trembled.

Once she held the key in her fist—so tightly, it left an indentation in her palm—she crept out of bed and stole over to Tinker Bell’s cage.

Just like their captor, the fairy was fast asleep. But she jolted awake upon hearing the key slip inside the padlock. Her jaw dropped, and her lips trembled in time with her rapidly-fluttering wings.

Snow White put her index finger to her lips.

How did you find that??

Her friend pantomimed unzipping a pocket by her wrist. Tinker Bell understood.

The princess jumped when the padlock opened and clinked loudly against the glass. “Hurry! Leave!” she hissed. “I don’t know how long it’ll be until he wakes up.”

Are you out of your mind?! Come with me! I’ll sprinkle fairy dust on you, so you can fly.  

“But I have no idea how quickly I could acclimate to flying. So if one of the pirates sees me before I can get far enough away from this ship—”

Tinker Bell sighed. You’re right. It’s too risky. Pirates could be on deck, and they might shoot you down. But I’m going to find help. I’m not just going to leave you here to rot.

“I appreciate that. And I’m so glad I was able to free you.”

Thank you so much, my friend. I love you.

“I love you, too. Now, please hurry.”

Open the cabin door! I’m not strong enough to move that.

“Oh! Of course. I’m sorry.” Snow White turned the creaky knob as gently as she could, her wrist still shaking. When the door finally swung open, the girl’s jaw slackened in relief. So did Tinker Bell’s.

I’ll bring Peter back to save you! We’ll get you out as soon as possible. I promise. Tinker Bell kissed her friend on the cheek.

Snow White’s eyes moistened as she watched the little pixie fly off into the night. She left a dazzling trail of sparkling light behind her, sharply contrasted with the night sky—it was a cloudy evening, with nary a star visible. The yellow fairy dust entranced the princess. If only it could solidify into a road in mid-air, on which she could run to escape Hook at last.

A slap sent her sprawling to the floor. She screamed.

“I have never...ex...perienced such a...piercing be...trayal....”

Hook was still drunk, but now lucid enough to balance properly. Snow White wasn’t sure if this made him more or less terrifying, since she couldn’t gauge how much control he had over his faculties. When she tried to stand up, he jammed his boot into her back. She went limp—had she not, he may have crushed her spine. Was that his intention? Or was he just trying to scare her?

Her mind’s eye was a black abyss, paralyzed and pulsing with terror, incapable of forming a single word or image.

The boot lifted off of her, allowing her to rise up onto her knees. A clammy hand grabbed her chin and jerked her head up to meet moistened black eyes. Where there had once been a twisted form of adoration, now radiated scalding hatred and murderous rage. Long, thin fingers ached to crush her jaw. A mouth that had once worshipped her flesh now looked ready to tear off her skin in chunks. 

The monster had removed his mask.

Snow White should have grown even more afraid. She should have been sobbing and shaking and begging for mercy. She should have been trying to appeal to some tiny speck of softness in the captain’s heart, to convince him not to harm her. She should have asked him to try and feel some compassion for Tinker Bell, who had done nothing wrong and had not deserved to be imprisoned.

Instead, the princess felt eerily calm. This was the most authentic interaction she’d ever had with her captor. He wasn’t trying to charm her and manipulate her into falling in love with him. He wasn’t pressuring her into sex, and trying to pass it off as encouraging her to embrace her repressed natural urges. He wasn’t imperceptibly threatening her, prompting her mind to erect cognitive blocks to protect her from the harrowing truth. He wasn’t ranting about Florian, as if her love for the prince had made her mentally ill and selfish; as if she could control whom she found attractive. As if she had purposely continued to love Florian, just to cause her “partner” pain.

Captain James Hook stood before Snow White as his true self. She understood what she had always represented to him, and what he had represented to her. No matter what may happen from this moment onward, he’d never take that knowledge from her again. She knew the truth now. She was no longer afraid.

Hook unzipped his trousers with trembling fingers, his fumbling movements inhibited by his inebriation. He didn’t even seem to notice that his member was flaccid.

Snow White remained in place, and regarded Hook’s organ with indifference. That only angered him more.

“Either you suck me off, or I kill you,” he barked. Though his words were still slightly slurred, Snow White did not doubt for one minute that his threat was valid. He wasn’t spouting drunken nonsense. He was serious.

At least I know I don’t want this, she thought, while closing her mouth around the limp muscle. I am not attracted to this man, nor do I feel like I’m supposed to be. I am doing this in order to survive. Just like I’ve always done. That’s all this arrangement ever was.

The princess cringed as she felt Hook’s penis stiffen inside her mouth. The muscle she knew so well. The muscle that ached for her more than any other part of the captain’s body.

She found it simultaneously easier and harder to perform fellatio, now that she was consciously aware of her true feelings. The undertaking was easier because she knew that her heart wasn’t in it—and that this wasn’t a strike against her worth, her generosity as a lover, or her mental health. She no longer worried that her mind and heart were playing tricks on her. She was not a sexual failure, like she’d worried for so long; she was simply not attracted to Hook. Sexual desire could not be bought, bargained with, or coerced into existence. She now felt no guilt for fantasizing about Florian as her head bobbed up and down on the captain’s length.

At the same time, sucking him was more difficult because of her mental clarity. She was no longer pressuring herself into falling for him. She could not do so, no matter how much he bent over backwards to try and win her heart. She knew that his every touch had been sexual assault; their entire “relationship” had been built on coercion. And regardless of how well he had pleased her body, he would never, ever touch her heart.

“Unnhhh...that’s it. Ohhh. Fuck. That’s a good girl,” Hook groaned. “Unnhh. I could—fuck!—almost forgive you....”

I don’t need your forgiveness.

Snow White switched back and forth between dissociating and forcing her mind to go blank vs. pretending she was with Florian—half of her movements were automatic, and the other half were deliberate. It was a jarring experience.

No matter what happens, I will escape. Whether I am rescued, you kill me, or I walk the plank again, I refuse to remain imprisoned in this farce of a relationship. You have no hold on me anymore.

She repeated these words to herself as she swallowed Hook’s orgasm. It took all her self-control not to gag and retch. Now that she could acknowledge how much this man repulsed her, swallowing his seed made her entire body feel ruined.

If only he felt the same way about her fluids; then maybe he would be less inclined to use her.

After taking a moment to collect himself, Hook hoisted Snow White to her feet and threw her on the bed.

“Undress!”

She hesitated. Wasn’t the blowie enough?

“Remember: you obey me, or you die. YOU pushed me to this point, princess! YOU made me do this to you! YOU provoked ME; not the other way around. I sacrificed EVERYTHING for you, after you gave me false hope that this relationship would improve my life. Actions carry consequences, and YOU MUST PAY!!”

With a grimace, Snow White sat up and followed the captain’s orders. He was disrobing as well, which gave her a chance to really see his body. Was he physically appealing, after all?

She decided that some women might find him satisfactory, as he had a conventionally attractive form; but he did not inspire a shred of arousal in her. Looking upon his naked body, she felt absolutely nothing.

Just like she’d always done.

She was not prudish or a selfish lover. She simply did not want him as her lover. There was nothing wrong with her.

She closed her eyes when Hook settled his face in between her legs. Would she enjoy the physical effects of his tongue? Yes. But not because of Hook, himself. Only because he was touching nerve endings.

As always, her body began to quiver under Hook’s ministrations. Her legs parted wider of their own accord. And her reaction became much stronger—internally and externally—when she envisioned Florian’s face instead of Hook’s. Tiny moans escaped her throat, and grew louder and louder as she shamelessly cried out for the prince without ever saying his name. If Hook wanted to believe that her wanton sounds were for him, he could do that. But he would be living in a fool’s paradise.

He seems more insistent this time, she thought after her second orgasm. Hook had just growled and gripped her thighs even tighter in his arms—tighter than he’d ever done. He was coming close to cutting off her circulation. It felt as though he were trying to grasp onto something that, on some level, he knew was moving further and further out of his reach.

His sounded like moans of frustration—or even grief—as he continued to devour her sex; the motions of his lips and tongue were frantic. He plunged his tongue inside her with such force, it almost hurt. He panted heavily while he rapidly flicked and rubbed his tongue over her bud, determined to make her come as frequently and intensely as he could. The look in his eyes was...manic.

If I spend even one more second looking at this man while he touches me, I will vomit.

After closing her eyes once more, Snow White resummoned the first mental image she’d ever envisioned of sex with Florian, while hiding in Hook’s bathroom and touching herself. No longer shouldering any shame around her love for the prince, she felt strangely empowered by imagining this scene again now, so many months later. Pretending she was with the prince, without beating herself up, allowed her arousal to reach new heights.

“Oh, F—fuck!” she cried out, as another orgasm rocked her entire body. She ground her sex against the captain’s mouth, feeling gleeful that he had no idea whose face she was actually picturing.

Once the shockwaves had abated, Hook cackled. “How can you tell yourself that you don’t want to be with me? Is this—” He forcefully sucked her clitoris. “—really worse than killing yourself?”

She sighed. No verbal response would satisfy him; she knew he was only trying to humiliate her further. It would be best to remain quiet and let him get everything off his chest.

“You even uttered an obscenity. You’ve never done that; not in your life. You’ve told me how uncomfortable you are with foul language. If that doesn’t speak to how thoroughly I can pleasure you, what else will?”

Of course he didn’t realize that her obscenity had been a save, to prevent her from screaming the prince’s name. It took colossal willpower for her not to chuckle at the irony of the situation.

Think what you want. You’re the delusional one; not me. I despise you more than I’ll ever despise swear words.

Two fingers slipped inside her. She bit her lip, bracing for another round of unwanted pleasure—and then looked down. Hook wasn’t stroking her in his usual fashion; he was moving his digits around in a slow, circular motion, and then curling them downward while moving them out of her body. He was...gathering the fluid. Her juices were now dripping down past her folds, and in between her cheeks.

“W-what are you doing?” she stammered.

The captain sneered wickedly, and then flipped her over. He inserted his soaked fingers into her anus, and moved them in a scissoring motion to expand the opening. After withdrawing his digits, he repeated the process as he gathered more fluid from her dripping sex.

Her heart sank. She knew what he was going to do, even before he rammed his length inside the puckered hole.

“Ouch!” she protested at the intrusion. “You said you would never do that—owww!”

“Which is precisely why...I...need to,” Hook snarled, while snapping his hips. “You need...to...be...punished. You hurt me...in one of the worst...possible...ways...and you must be...disciplined...accordingly. You deserve this.” He slapped one of her cheeks three times, for extra emphasis.

She began to cry.

“I would love to...beat you to a bloody pulp...but then I...unnhhhh...might mar your perfect features. Your desirability is...all you’ve got; you know that? UNNHHH. Without your beauty, you’re...unnhhh...worthless! As long as you’re with me, you...will...NEVER...forget that!”

As long as you’re with me.

Was that supposed to mean that one day, he would let her go? Or kill her? Or that she might be permitted to think more pleasant thoughts when he was not in the room?

Or had that declaration been a slip of the tongue? Did he feel a change in the air? Was she imagining things, or had he noticed how much she had energetically slipped away from him?

“My...doll,” he panted. “You’re my...perfectly pristine...little doll. I want to keep you...as my doll...unnhhh!...for as long...as possible. You are...useless...otherwise. You’re just...unnhhh...something to fuck and jerk off to...since you...unnhhh...can’t behave...properly!”

Despite her recent mental victories, Snow White felt a long-buried wound rise up and slash her heart: she wondered if her life would have turned out better if she’d been born ugly, or at least average-looking. Her appearance only seemed to inspire negative behavior in others.

Should she be ashamed of her beauty? Should she try to dull it, so as not to arouse the jealousy of women and the advances of entitled men? If she spent too much time out in the sun and became wrinkled, or she started overeating and became fat, then maybe Hook would lose interest in her. Perhaps he would find her repulsive, and stop projecting his outrageous fantasies onto her.

She had told Tinker Bell to never dim her light; but now she found herself questioning the safety of such a statement, when applied to her own existence.

Maybe it was too dangerous to be beautiful.

*   *   *

Tinker Bell had never flown so quickly. She wasn’t sure if her speed was a result of having been locked in a cage for months, or from the urgency she felt in needing to help Snow White. Probably both, she thought as she zipped across the ocean and into a large swath of trees, searching for Peter. She was racing against time, fighting for her own freedom as well as Snow White’s. A heavy weight rested on her tiny shoulders.

A stroke of luck took her to the encampment where Peter had been made an honorary clan member. She didn’t know if she would find him there; but at the very least, the residents could surely tell her where Peter was.

It turned out that they didn’t have to. Circling the encampment, Tinker Bell caught sight of a harrowing scene: a group of Algonquins fussing over a very pale, very wounded boy in green.

There was a gaping gash in his leg. Blood was pooling around him, creating an eerie contrast to his light skin. Several clan members were frantically attending to him—elevating his leg, supporting his head, trying to keep him conscious—but the boy was fading.

Tinker Bell’s heart thumped. With blood pooling at her feet, she couldn’t feel the tears flooding down her cheeks. She couldn’t produce pixie dust. Her body forgot how to fly, and she plummeted to the ground.

Chapter Text

“Tink! Tink! Tinker Bell!!”

The fairy blinked and rubbed her eyes. The last thing she remembered was viewing Peter close to death, and then falling. How had she ended up in the boy’s hands, being held up in front of his face? She figured both of them should have passed away by now.

Like Peter, she looked a little worse for wear. She had hit the ground with a splat, and broken her nose as well as a hip. Her body was knitting itself back together. But it was taking a while. She would need a few days’ rest.

What happened to you? she pantomimed.

Peter shared the awful tale of Hook’s ambush and recapturing of Snow White—and that the captain had thrown his knife into the boy’s leg during the battle.

“We cleaned and stitched up the wound immediately, but it reopened just a few minutes ago,” explained the Chief. “Pan will be off his feet for a few days.”

What about Snow White? I know how we can rescue her!  

Peter bolted upright—and was promptly pushed back down onto his makeshift stretcher.

“Rest!” ordered the stern woman hovering over his prone form.

“All right, all right. I’m resting. But Tinker Bell can still tell me about how we’re to rescue the princess. What do you know, Tink?”

We need to do it soon—I don’t know if Hook will let her live much longer. He’s become completely unhinged. I saw what he did to her when he recaptured her, and.... The fairy shivered.

Her audience had no trouble filling in the blanks.

Not knowing that Snow White had already told the Algonquins about the portal, Tinker Bell repeated the information and explained how they could locate Prince Florian—the only person Snow White had left, she reminded everyone. She was relieved that Peter had vowed to bring the prince to Neverland, as soon as he was back on his feet. The young man would surely want to help rescue Snow White—and the extra manpower would be most beneficial.

“We’ll need to round up as many people as possible,” Peter told the Algonquins. “If Hook can come here with dozens of pirates, we’ll need to swarm his ship with dozens of us, in order to overpower him.”

“I agree,” said the Chief. “This rescue mission will be more than a one-man job. Some of us will go by boat, while others....” He gestured to Tinker Bell. “Might we make use of your pixie dust, to get us in the air?”

Tinker Bell nodded eagerly.

“That’s a fantastic plan,” added another Algonquin. “If Hook and his henchmen see large numbers of us in the air, surrounding his ship, they’ll be too distracted to notice those of us piling onto the vessel after having traveled there by water.”

“It is done,” Chief Gomo declared. “Peter: when you are healed, cross through this portal and locate Florian. Tinker Bell: once we decide who will row and who will fly, you will sprinkle your fairy dust and get us in the air. The flyers will arrive first, to capture the pirates’ undivided attention, and then the rowers will swarm The Jolly Roger a few minutes later. Everyone—shipbound or airborne—will be armed with weapons. Bows and arrows for those in flight; knives and swords for those on the ship.”

Under the Chief’s direction, the clan finetuned their battle plans for the next few hours, deliberating which tasks would be assigned to which persons, and which attack formations would be most appropriate in order to minimize casualties. The air buzzed with the energy of the determined warriors who were eager to retaliate against the demons aboard The Jolly Roger. The pirates were sitting ducks, and the Algonquins were going to remind them of this in short order.

Captain Hook would rue the day he had anchored his ship in Neverland.

*   *   *

Five days had passed since Snow White had freed Tinker Bell. Five days since Hook had violated her in the worst way possible. She’d never enjoyed anal stimulation; not even on a physical level. And that was why Hook had taken so much pleasure in delivering it. He really was a monster.

He maintained his claim that she was not allowed to leave his bedroom. So standing out in the sun all day and getting wrinkles was not an option. Nor was overeating, since Mr. Smee brought every meal to Hook’s cabin—and the princess was not permitted to request anything more. The captain had complete control over her every move, just like he’d always wanted.

“I will never play that thing again,” she whispered as she regarded his piano. He’d given her a few lessons since they’d first come aboard the ship; but her mental deterioration had impeded her ability to understand new information, and so she had all but stopped improving. Hook had subsequently given up on teaching her.

She had also refused to sing in months. Her passion was gone. Her melodious voice had captivated Hook, and she didn’t want to exacerbate the issue. She could barely even handle the sound of her own speaking voice these days, now that she truly grasped its effect on her captor.

He had turned her off to music. That was unforgivable.

Hook was in a strange mood. He was convinced that he had killed Peter Pan in the ambush, and that had lifted his spirits. However, Snow White’s dour countenance had significantly deflated him. She was a shell of herself. And Hook knew he was powerless to reinvigorate her. It hadn’t been much of a surprise when he’d called her worthless outside of her beauty. Deep down, she’d known all along that his bizarre form of affection had come with conditions.

The captain had recently left for his morning rounds, to check on his crew. Though a guard was stationed outside his door, Hook’s absence from the cabin allowed Snow White to relax just a hair, and she savored every solitary moment granted to her. Her gaze meandered about the room, not really registering anything.

Her heart clenched when her eyes landed on the empty cage.

What had become of Tinker Bell? Had she reached Peter Pan after all? Or had one of the pirates shot her down? Hook had made a point not to discuss the fairy, and Snow White had been too afraid to broach the subject. If the news would be bad, she didn’t think she’d be able to handle it. She grimaced and blinked a few tears away.

A rumble below her made her jump. Was she dreaming, or had the floor itself just...vibrated? And what was all that shouting about, up on deck? Had they struck something?

No, you silly girl; the ship is anchored, she chided herself. That means it’s stationary.

Was the vessel under attack? Was she in danger?

A chorus of thunderous cries and stomping feet sent a shiver down her spine. If it weren’t for the guard, she would be peering outside, to see what the commotion was.

BANG!

The cabin door jolted, as if something had been thrown against it. Snow White thought she heard gasping and wheezing; but it was hard to discern any soft sounds over the ruckus on deck.

Biting her lip, the princess crept toward the door and knocked tentatively.

No answer.

“Um...Mister Guard?”

Silence.

Surely, Hook wouldn’t mind if I just...opened the door for a moment, right? I’d like to think he’d consider this a valid reason for wanting to look around. Especially if I don’t actually set foot outside the cabin.

Snow White didn’t know why she was taking such care to open the door quietly, amidst the sounds of a full-fledged battle. But months of living with Hook had made her more prone to watching her every step, even while alone.

She screamed at the sight before her: the guard lying on the floor, with a knife through his heart. Blood was pooling all around his body and spreading outward.

“I FOUND HER!” shouted a familiar voice—Samoset! One of the Algonquins! What were the Native Americans doing aboard The Jolly Roger? They’d never once left Neverland’s soil, since having been relocated there.

“Samoset!” Snow White cried. “How did you—”

“No time to explain, princess. We’ve got to get you off this ship!”

“Ah, finally!” called out Little Feather. “Are you all right?”

“I—I think? I don’t kn—there’s a dead body on the floor! How can I be all right when there’s a b-body lying there, and there’s blood everywhere, and—”

“Don’t just stand there!” snapped Samoset. “We’ve got to move! We’ve lost too many men already!”

“How many have perished?” asked Little Feather, as she and her comrade helped the shaking princess up the stairs.

“Easily twenty. Even with far more of us in the air than on deck, it’s been difficult. Many have been able to dodge the cannonballs; but not everyone in the air has gotten accustomed to flying, and so—”

“CAN SOMEONE PLEASE JUST TELL ME WHAT’S GOING ON?!” Snow White shrieked, to be heard over the shouts and jeers and screams of pain. How could the Algonquins speak so calmly? Were they really this accustomed to fighting? An awful thought, that.

“We’re here to rescue you—and to avenge our loved ones who perished when Hook attacked us to recapture you,” explained Tagwanibisan.

“Your friend Tinker Bell sprinkled fairy dust on many clan members, who are attacking the ship from above,” chimed in Chief Gomo, after stabbing a pirate who’d been approaching the princess. “Peter is among them.”

“Oh my goodness, really?!” Snow White gasped.

“Yes!” said Kame. “They’re shooting arrows down at the pirates, and providing a distraction from those of us climbing aboard and fighting the buccaneers in hand-to-hand combat.”

“One warrior, in particular, will be especially happy to see you,” added Samoset. “He got his dose of fairy dust, but he also elected to come aboard in order to retrieve you in person. It’s best that you leave with him at once.”

“Who??” Snow White yelled.

As if on cue, the warrior in question felled a pirate on the edge of the deck, and then came rushing toward the princess.

“FLORIAN!”

“SNOW WHITE!” cried the prince, upon spotting her. “Come, it’s time to go! I’m taking you home.” He holstered his sword, and pulled the shaking girl close.

“Home?! Where is home? I...I have no h-home.” She clung to her beloved and wept into his neck.

“Yes, you do. You’re coming home with me. Now, hold on tight. This will feel a bit disorienting.”

After hoisting the princess into his arms, Florian jumped up and...remained in the air. They sailed above the battle, allowing Snow White to see the full scope of the carnage. The sight turned her stomach.

“You can fly!” she exclaimed, trying to distract herself.

“Temporarily, yes! The pixie dust will last half an hour, according to Tinker Bell; but I trust we won’t need that long. We shouldn’t linger. Too many people here want to see you remain imprisoned.”

Snow White screamed when Florian dove to avoid a bullet from one such person. The one-eyed pirate snarled as he followed Florian’s flight path, trying to shoot him down. The princess began crying harder.

“Try not to look, sweetheart. It’s a gruesome scene.”

Snow White wanted to follow Florian’s’ advice, but she could not tear her eyes away from the spectacle. Dead pirates and Algonquins were strewn about the ship, and floating in the water. Men and women everywhere were yelling, sparring, dodging arrows, and jamming their weapons in their nearest opponents’ bodies.

“Am I really worth all of this?” the sobbing girl gasped in dismay. “So many people are dying!”

“Of course you are! Remember, though, that the Algonquins’ anger isn’t merely about Hook capturing you: it’s also about his having slaughtered their loved ones when he recaptured you. So don’t feel guilty. Please. You did not cause this.”

Snow White sniffled.

Florian whipped his head around to try and find an opening, through which he could take the girl out of the fray. “But even if this mission was just about rescuing you, we would still do it. All of us.”

The princess only buried her face in Florian’s shoulder and sobbed harder.

“There we go!” the prince announced, upon finding a gap in the melee. “I’ll have you out of here in a min—”

“YOU’LL DO NO SUCH THING!” growled Hook. The captain had just climbed a small pile of corpses, which had given him the altitude he needed to jump up and grab onto Snow White’s legs.

“GET OFF!” roared Florian.

“YOU get off! That’s MY princess! MY property!”

James could not believe this young man’s attitude. Who had taught him how to speak to his superiors? And the captain of a respectable pirate ship, no less! The little brat had the nerve to come aboard his vessel, uninvited, and steal his most precious possession?! James was going to kill this boy if it was the last thing he ever did.

Worse, the prince—his rival of the past year—was succeeding; he was making off with James’ treasure. His gorgeous little doll. His whole reason for existing. His reason for having risked everything...only to be left with diminishing returns. Had the princess not been in Florian’s arms, James would have just chopped the boy to death with his knife. Alas, he didn’t want to risk marring Snow White’s radiant beauty.

Not too much, anyway. He rammed his hook into the girl’s hip to grant him more leverage as he climbed further up her body and grasped her shoulder. Though Florian was able to fly, his balance was now wavering. All James had to do was hold out a little longer—and ignore Snow White’s yelps of pain, which were both exceedingly annoying and hard on his eardrums—and the prince would be toppling into the sea.

With her blood dripping down his arm, James knew he was on the verge of retrieving the girl, one final time. A demonic grin split his face in two. Victory was so close...so, so close....

A sharp pain tore into his left leg. And then another. And then another. And then one bit into his right leg. And then one nicked his Achilles heel.

James shrieked, even louder than Snow White. He tried to kick, but found that his legs lacked the strength to do so. What is happening? What’s got me? Why can’t I move my legs?

He got his answer when he glanced downward: Peter Pan was wielding two short swords and hacking at him.

“You let her go, Hook!” the boy ordered.

“Like hell I will!” He dug in his hook even deeper.

Snow White keened.

“IF I HAVE TO DIE HERE, I’M TAKING YOU DOWN WITH ME!” James hollered. Tears of desperation streamed down his cheeks. “YOU DON’T GET TO EXIST WITHOUT ME! YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO BE HAPPY WITHOUT ME! YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO—”

A heavy blow to the back of the head cut him off mid-sentence. When he opened his mouth to finish his tirade, he felt his body plummeting toward the ocean, retaining no trace of the princess except the blood on his arm.

Instead of hitting the water, he found himself incapacitated by the most hellish sensations: dozens of daggers piercing his flesh and impaling his organs. High-pitched shrieks rattling his throat and tearing up his windpipe. His bones snapping and crunching inside a rancid, gaping maw. Blood clogging his airway and ribboning down his tattered limbs. Cheers from Peter Pan. Snow White’s screams from overhead.

Then nothing.

Chapter Text

“Snow White, I owe you an enormous apology,” Florian sighed. “I know that nothing can make up for all the pain I caused you—not even rescuing you from Captain Hook—but I would like to at least...try.”

“I appreciate that,” Snow White replied, and then gasped as he reached for her hands.

He’d never touched her that way before. And despite the heavy throbbing in her left hip—which was now heavily bandaged—the feel of Florian’s hands in hers lifted her spirits so much, it decreased her physical pain.

Prince and princess were sitting in a secluded area of the encampment, grateful to finally have some time alone. As relieved as they were to be out of the fray, the endless rounds of hugs and bittersweet tears had been draining; they’d wanted more than anything to escape any and all high-energy environments. Their adrenaline had long since worn off.

Both sides had sustained severe losses. Though the pirates had lost the battle, the remaining Algonquins were grieving. Each of them had seen loved ones murdered in the fracas. No one would be singing or dancing anytime soon. Crying and murmured words of comfort were the most common sounds heard inside the encampment.

“Hook—he really is dead?”

“Yes. I watched that crocodile eat him. And if I may say so, the beast seemed to enjoy its meal quite a bit. It almost looked like it was smiling.”

As squeamish as she was, Snow White couldn’t help but snicker. If anyone had deserved such a violent death, it was Captain Hook.

“He can’t hurt you anymore. You’re safe now. Truly. None of those pirates will dare set foot on this soil ever again. They know they’ll be killed if they do.”

Snow White burst into tears, for what felt like the tenth time that day.

“Come here, love.”

Florian pulled Snow White onto his lap, careful to avoid touching her injury—which was serious, but able to heal, according to the Algonquin medicine woman. She had spent a lot of time pressing herbs into the afflicted area, and whispering prayers of healing before dressing the wound. The princess would be ready to travel in three weeks, she said.

“W—what did you just call me?” the princess squeaked. She couldn’t believe her ears.

“Love,” Florian repeated. “Goodness, I should have told you sooner. I...I love you.”

“R-really?”

“Yes. I regret that it took losing you for me to face my feelings; to realize how important you are to me.”

“I love you, too,” Snow White sniffed, wiping her eyes and gazing up at Florian. “I always have.”

“I know. And I think I may have loved you all this time, as well; I was just too much of a coward to admit it. I took you for granted when you were the Queen’s maid. And yet I cannot describe the emotions that came over me when I first saw your face, and heard your singing voice...even before we first spoke. And when word spread that you had been killed....”

Florian trailed off, unable to speak further as tears began streaming down his face. Snow White wiped them away.

“No.” He removed her hand from his cheek. “I don’t deserve your comfort. I’m the reason you felt such anguish. For years. If not for my spinelessness, Hook would never have found you. I should have brought you back to my kingdom the day we met, before Grimhilde had ordered you killed, which forced you to flee. I should have treated you well enough that you would’ve had no chance to doubt me, or doubt that One Song really was about you...or doubt your intuition. I should have....”

Going against Florian’s wishes, Snow White wrapped her arms around his neck. His arms encircled her waist. They gripped each other as they cried, both too overcome with emotion to say another word.

Several minutes passed before either of them could speak without blubbering. And even after they regained their composure, all they wanted to do was hold each other in silence. The peaceful stillness spoke volumes.

*   *   *

To allow Snow White’s injury to mend, she and Florian remained in the encampment for the next three weeks. During that time, he took it upon himself to become her personal manservant. He brought her all of her meals, so she wouldn’t have to stand up and walk too much. He helped her bathe, while respecting her modesty: she sat in the river with her back to him, and only removed her dress after immersing herself in the water. He kept her wound clean and carefully monitored its healing progress. And he carried her around whenever she allowed it—she’d wanted to see the whole encampment and meet more of the Algonquins, he reminded her. He figured he may as well give her a guided tour.

Amused stares and giggles greeted them whenever they were spotted together in this fashion. Which was at least once a day. Since Snow White’s rescue, she and Florian had become attached, literally and figuratively.

Tinker Bell was often found hovering nearby—as happy as she was to see Snow White reunited with Florian, the fairy had grown rather protective of her new friend, and she wanted to make sure that the prince was treating her properly. To her relief and delight, he was doing just that, and then some. He was speaking openly, sharing his feelings, and expressing genuine interest in hearing about hers. His facial expressions spoke of love, concern, attentiveness, and profound regret. Tinker Bell approved of this. Her friend deserved no less.

As much as Snow White enjoyed Florian’s doting behavior, she was relieved when the medicine woman declared her ready to walk. She wouldn’t be able to travel long distances for another month, but she was well enough to return home.

I suppose it’s too much, to ask you to come back and visit? Tinker Bell asked Snow White. She and Florian had just finished making the rounds and bidding everyone farewell.

“I don’t think I could ever set foot in Neverland again; I’m sorry,” the princess confessed. “But you’re welcome to travel through the portal anytime.”

“Indeed,” said Florian, to both Tinker Bell and Peter Pan. “Your friendship and dedication to freeing Snow White will never be forgotten. And you, Tinker Bell, especially—you helped Snow White free her mind. You helped her realize what a monster Captain Hook really was. You empowered her in a way that I don’t believe anyone else could have done, and you helped her feel less alone when Hook held you both hostage. Thank you. Thank you. I cannot express my gratitude deeply enough.”

Tinker Bell perched on Snow White’s shoulder and began to cry. I’ll miss you so much.

“And I will miss you,” the princess sighed. “But we can visit anytime. Remember that.”

But...but it could be so long before that happens next. I feel like we’ve only just started spending time together since we’ve been freed, and...and.... The fairy curled up in the crook of Snow White’s neck and sobbed harder, as if getting more comfortable would mean that she wouldn’t have to say goodbye.

“There there, sweetie. It’s okay,” Snow White soothed. “I know we have grown very attached over the past few weeks, but my going home isn’t going to change that. We’re still friends, no matter what. Do you trust that?”

Tinker Bell lifted her head and nodded.

“She does get rather emotional sometimes,” Peter admitted. “Dontcha, Tink?”

“I will think of you often,” Snow White promised. She stroked the fairy’s wings and coaxed her to return to Peter.

“Ah, and I almost forgot!” exclaimed Florian. “This is for you, my friend,” he told Peter, holding out a dagger that had been fastened to his belt since he’d followed the boy into Neverland. “You mentioned that Hook knocked a similar weapon out of your hand not too long ago?”

“Yeah, it was awful,” Peter replied. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Florian insisted. “You brought hope back into my life. You told me that the girl I loved was still alive, and that I could help rescue her. I owe you a great debt.”

“You don’t owe me anything; we helped each other. I helped you get Snow White back, and you helped me kill Hook. I’d say we’re even!”

Florian agreed. He embraced the boy briefly, before taking Snow White’s hand and setting off toward the portal.

*   *   *

“Father, this is Princess Snow White,” Florian announced proudly.

“Ahh, your Majesty!” greeted King Frederick. He offered the girl a deep bow.

She curtsied—to be polite, and to lower her head so as to hide her surprise. She was not accustomed to royals treating her like an equal.

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you. My son has spoken very highly of you, and he was most despondent during your...absence. No one could lift his spirits; not even for a day.”

“You may call it what it was, Father: captivity. Snow White will not be offended.”

“It’s true,” the girl confirmed. “I feel many things about that terrible time in my life, but offense is not one of them.”

“What...do you feel, if I may be so bold?” asked King Frederick.

Snow White stared.

“...If you are comfortable discussing the issue, of course. If not, I’m sure we can find many other topics on which to converse. Come, let us get settled in the parlor.”

Snow White reminded Florian that she was rather shy—and that this was her first time inside a castle in a year. It was also her first time in a castle, in living memory, in which she was being treated like royalty instead of a servant.

“I would feel better if I were allowed to acclimate quietly, without having to talk too much,” she had explained on the journey back to England. “I may appear aloof, or even semi-comatose, but I’m actually processing information.”

Being well-versed in conducting business, Florian had told her not to worry, and promised that the meeting with his father would go smoothly. King Frederick confirmed this, when Florian explained Snow White’s needs.

Once a servant had provided tea, Florian began telling his father of Snow White’s harrowing year in Captain Hook’s clutches—allowing her to verbalize when she wished, but mostly speaking on her behalf. When she found herself wanting to add to the discussion, she would lightly touch his arm.

“I—I really am safe here?” Snow White asked Frederick. “No one from Grimhilde’s army will come for me, if they hear that I have returned?”

The King shook his head. “Absolutely not. Anyone who still swore fealty to that witch, after her death, is now in the dungeon. My dungeon.”

Snow White’s eyes widened.

“Would you like to tell her, son, or should I?”

“I’ll tell her,” Florian chuckled.

He proceeded to share the tale of having stolen inside Grimhilde’s castle, after word had spread that she’d either died or become a hermit—her guards were no longer quite so vigilant, so Florian had slipped inside with surprising ease. He’d then located her half-rotten body, with her heart ripped out. Though he spared Snow White the most gory details—the maggots inside the Queen’s eye sockets, and the cockroaches inside the gaping wound in her chest—she was smart enough to fill in the gaps. While gripping her stomach, the princess declined the servant’s offer of more pastries.

“No one could figure out why her heart had been carved out,” Frederick remarked. “Florian and I tried to formulate a theory, but we were both left scratching our heads.”

“I...I know what happened,” Snow White stammered.

“Really?” Florian asked. “Are you—are you able to talk about it?”

She nodded. “I...well, Hook killed her.”

“What?!” father and son exclaimed in unison.

“I don’t know how, but he somehow got into the castle, and...”

“You don’t have to share more, if you’re not ready now—or ever, if it’s too traumatic to speak about,” Florian assured her. “We can talk about other things, should you need the—”

“I—I want to,” she replied.

Her voice shook, but the men could hear her conviction. They liked that she sat up straighter and hardened her gaze on the floor as she rolled her shoulders back in preparation. This tale needed to be told.

“Hook thought love was a transaction,” she began. “If he completed a certain task on my behalf—even if I had never asked him to do so—he believed himself entitled to a particular reaction from me. And he fashioned me selfish and lazy when I did not give him his desired response.”

“I shudder to think what types of...tasks we’re discussing,” Florian interjected. Frederick grimaced.

“Your suspicion is most likely correct,” she replied. “But his entitlement expanded to everyday activities as well. He spent a lot of time teaching me to play the piano, and having me sing with him. He—” She shuddered. “He once told me, I don’t understand why you loved Florian so much, when he did nothing to deserve it; but I do so much for you, and you still haven’t said ‘I love you’ yet!”

Frederick sat back in his chair, hardly able to contain his horror. Florian looked close to vomiting.

“I tried to fall in love with him. I tried so, so hard. But I simply could not. The best I could feel was some semblance of gratitude, since his keeping me inside his house meant that Grimhilde could no longer reach me. But I never felt, you know...the way you feel when you fall in love.” She cast a shy glance at Florian. “I had to put so much conscious effort into every emotion and every gesture. Nothing I said or did around him came naturally, and so I thought something was wrong with me. I thought I had grown ungrateful and spoiled. I thought I was too rigid to attempt to give up my ‘fantasy’ of Florian and fall in love with someone who really did want me—someone who was bending over backwards to accommodate me, all while reminding me of how difficult I was to deal with. No matter how hard I tried to love Hook, he always implied that I wasn’t trying hard enough; that he was the one doing all the work to keep our ‘relationship’ afloat.”

The prince took her hand and squeezed. “He didn’t keep you inside, Snow White. He imprisoned you. He kidnapped you from the dwarfs’ cottage and held you captive. Please don’t downplay it.”

“You’re right. I realize this now; Tinker Bell helped me see the truth. But sometimes, I find it hard to use such severe words. I also don’t like to think about how harrowing this experience truly was.”

“This makes sense,” said Frederick. “Awful, awful sense. Now, how does this factor into his murder of Grimhilde?”

“That was his last-ditch attempt at pressuring me into falling in love with him. Grimhilde had ordered her huntsman to lure me away to a secluded place and kill me, because her demon-possessed mirror had told her that my beauty had surpassed hers. The huntsman was supposed to have brought her my heart, as proof that I was dead. Hook thought I would find it romantic if he killed the Queen—to ensure that she’d never hurt me again. After getting her alone, he struck from behind, and then...brought me her heart, in the same box that she’d once hoped would contain mine.”

“Oh, for the love of—!”

“Language, Florian! We have a young lady present.”

“My apologies, Father.”

“I will concede, however, that the grisly nature of this news nearly made me have an outburst,” Frederick confessed.

“That has to be the most macabre tale I have ever heard,” Florian added. Then he sat up straighter. “Snow White! Was this—the episode with the huntsman—was that when he intervened as I was singing to you?”

“Yes. He didn’t actually want to kill me; his conscience got the better of him in the end. He must have been trying to get into the proper mindset to commit such a terrible crime.”

“This was when I came home with that wound in my leg,” Florian admitted to his father. “The huntsman stabbed me as I attempted to defend Snow White.”

Frederick gripped the cushion on his chair so tightly, his knuckles cracked. “I see now, why you refused to tell me what had happened that evening. The full story, anyway.”

“You are too lenient, Father. I was a right bloody coward.”

Frederick leveled a stern gaze at Florian, but otherwise did not scold his son again for his language. This was a special case; emotions were running high, all around the room.

“I should have asked you to send a small army after her, and the huntsman, instead of silently allowing the doctor to heal me. Snow White was in far more danger than I.”

“Grimhilde told Hook that the huntsman had brought her a pig’s heart instead of mine,” the princess continued. “She only discovered the lie when her mirror told her the truth. Then she killed the huntsman for betraying her. Hook found all of this...amusing.”

Frederick pinched the bridge of his nose.

Florian intensified his grip on Snow White’s hand. “I was in...a bit of a state, when I discovered the body. I’d wondered if the murder was connected to your disappearance—or if you were even still alive at that point. After seeing the way Hook treated you that day in the forest—”

“And that he put a gun to your head,” Snow White cut in.

“Wait, WHAT?!” Frederick spat.

“It was when I ran into Snow White in the forest in February—I mentioned it to you briefly, months ago, omitting that part. I’d considered taking her away with me right then; I’d thought I was getting a second chance. But then Hook appeared, and threatened to kill me if I even looked at Snow White again.”

“It was one of the scariest moments of my life, seeing Hook behave like that—in the forest, as well as the things he did after he took me back to his cottage. I can’t....” She wiped her eyes and shuddered.

“It’s all right, love,” Florian soothed. “There’s no need to rehash that day. And Father—maybe you and I can discuss those events another time. But it appears to be too much for Snow White at the moment. Let us return to the issue of Grimhilde.”

“Yes, indeed,” said Frederick. “My boy was beside himself when he came back home that day. He’d already seen a few dead bodies, but none that looked so horrific. He could not help but fear for your safety.”

“Not to mention how powerless I felt, because I had no way of knowing where you were. I refused to believe the initial rumors that you had died, after you and I had had that scuffle with the huntsman. There was no body. There was no blood, except for my own. But upon seeing Queen Grimhilde’s corpse, several months later, when there was still no trace of you anywhere, my mind went to a very dark place and—”

“I think we should tell Snow White about the conversation we had that evening. I can see how much she loves you, and hearing about our chat will probably help her trust that you really do love her in return.”

Florian nodded.

Snow White leaned forward, eager to hear the tale.

Chapter Text

“FATHER!!”

It was uncommon for the gentle prince to raise his voice, outside of the occasional skirmish, but he could not contain his emotions. His usual calm demeanor had shattered. He had a hard time feeling his own body; he could barely remain upright.

F rederick raced into the entrance hall, robe billowing behind him. “Florian! Son, talk to me. What happened? Are you all right?”

“The...the witch is dead.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Queen Grimhilde. The wicked witch, as people like to call her. She’s...she’s dead. I just found her body. She was murdered. The killer carved her heart right out of her chest.”

“What?! Where? How?”

Florian wiped his eyes.  

“Son, as glad as I am to hear that my wife’s murderer is gone, you’re making me anxious. You look guilty. Did you have something to do with this? Was this your idea of vengeance?!”

“I—”  

“Answer me, boy!”

“I didn’t kill the Queen. I had nothing to do with her murder. But....”

“But what?! Stop stalling. Tell me what has happened, and do it posthaste.”

Florian wiped his eyes again. “Could we...sit down?”

Frederick gave his distressed son a curt nod.

The prince’s head was spinning. His eyes were close to spilling over. Where should he begin? How could he tell his father of the crime that he, himself, had committed? He knew he didn’t deserve forgiveness—some part of him was even hoping that his father would punish him harshly. Inhumanely. The discipline would never absolve him of his sins; nothing would. But perhaps it would ease his conscience. The prince knew he deserved whatever sentence the gods would bestow upon him.  

“Now, what’s this all about?” Frederick demanded, once he and Florian were seated on a couch in the parlor.

“It’s about...a girl. A princess. From a nearby kingdom.”

“What is her name?”

“Snow White. She is—was—I’m not sure....”

Florian’s voice shook as he grappled with the terrible images tearing through his mind. Was Snow White still alive? Had she been killed? If she was alive, was she safe? He decided to think as positively as possible; to speak of the girl’s existence in the present tense. While falling apart before his father’s eyes, he lacked the strength to consider any more terrible news.

Frederick huffed, and gestured for the boy to get on with it.  

“She’s...she’s Grimhilde’s stepdaughter. You may have heard her name in passing, but I don’t believe you have ever held any official discussion about her; she was well hidden. Grimhilde forced her into servitude. The girl grew up as a scullery maid, because Grimhilde was jealous of how pretty she was. She hoped that a lifetime of hard work would diminish Snow White’s attractiveness. And then she ordered the princess killed...simply because the girl had surpassed her in beauty.”

“Why are you telling me all of this? What’s this got to do with Grimhilde’s murder?”  

“BECAUSE I COULD HAVE SAVED HER!” Florian blurted out. Heaving, he buried his face in his hands and began sobbing violently. “I could have saved Snow White! It’s my f-fault! It’s a-all my f-fault....”  

Frederick could only observe, in stunned silence, as his son broke down and confessed his deepest secret: he had been discreetly meeting with Snow White for three years, before she went missing. Beginning with the first time they locked eyes, they’d formed a very strong rapport and felt a connection so profound, it had scared both of them.

But it had scared him more.

The princess had expressed romantic interest in him; and while he’d reciprocated her feelings, he had never allowed himself to forge a deeper bond with her. He’d never made concrete plans to court her—or at least rescue her from her life of servitude and set her up in his own kingdom. He hadn’t even allowed himself to think of her too often.  

Instead, he had made shallow excuses for keeping her at a distance; he had listed all the reasons why he’d lacked the time for a proper relationship. He’d claimed to be unsure of how he really felt. He’d been too afraid of incurring Grimhilde’s wrath. He’d feared bringing war to his kingdom, should their clandestine meetings be discovered. The rationalizations went on.

Florian cried and screamed his way through the tale. His body shock. He alternated between rocking back and forth, and pressing his forehead to his knees while gripping his hair in trembling hands.  

He had disrespected Snow White. He had pushed her away. He had taken her for granted. He had dragged his feet. And when he had finally decided it was time to confess his feelings, Grimhilde’s huntsman had intervened and stabbed his leg. The brute had then manhandled Snow White, while Florian had limped home like the coward he was. He could have come clean to his father in that moment, to convince him of the need to surge Grimhilde’s territory and rescue the princess. But he had not.

On that very day, while Florian had enjoyed the comforts of a doctor and a soft bed, news spread that Snow White had gone missing. (No one from his own kingdom knew what had happened, remaining oblivious to the girl’s existence; but he had snuck back to Grimhilde’s terrain occasionally, and picked up the gossip.) He had refused to believe that Snow White was dead—but he’d also refused to find out the truth for himself. He had done his best to put the bewitching girl out of his mind.

Then, several months later, he had encountered her in the forest. He had considered taking her home with him...but then a furious man had appeared, grabbed Snow White, and threatened to kill Florian if he did not retreat immediately. He had obeyed—and, a second time, done nothing to try and locate the girl after she’d been harmed right in front of him. He had not tried hard enough to fight for her safety.

And now, she was probably dead.  

Since Grimhilde had been killed in such a brutal fashion, Florian figured that the murderer must have also killed Snow White, simply for having been the Queen’s relative. He was certain that Grimhilde’s death and Snow White’s disappearance were connected. Rumors were one thing; but a mutilated corpse was another. No one could dispute a dead body’s existence.

Snow White had endured far more than anyone should—especially someone so uncommonly kind and gentle. And it had all happened because Florian had refused to buck up and treat her with proper respect. He’d been a foolish, selfish little boy; he didn’t deserve to be called a man. And he certainly didn’t deserve the young lady who had pined for him.

The young lady who had stumped him and left him speechless with her insight, her optimism, her integrity, her vocal prowess...and, yes, her beauty. The young lady who had never left his heart, no matter how many noblewomen he’d tried to use as a distraction. The young lady who had inspired him to write his very first love song—something he’d thought he would never do, having believed himself above such sappy behavior. Yet Snow White had gotten under his skin enough to make him wonder if perhaps falling in love wasn’t so sappy after all.  

And now, here he was, howling and wailing because he'd only just come to understand his feelings—when it was too late to act on them.

Several minutes later, when the boy had calmed down at last, his father saw fit to speak again.

“You feared that history would repeat itself,” Frederick said quietly.

“What?”  

“That’s what this is all about, Florian.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You are grieving; yes. And you feel tremendous regret—as you should. Your behavior was beyond shameful, and I’ve half a mind to strike you. But underneath it all, this isn’t about your lost sweetheart. This isn’t about your fear of acknowledging how deeply you had fallen in love with Snow White.”

“What?? What are you talking about? Of course it’s about my love for her! What do you think—”

“You were afraid of Grimhilde killing Snow White...but more specifically, doing so only after you’d fallen so passionately in love, that your life would have come to feel meaningless without the girl. You feared the psychological implications of such a crime. Had your fear come to pass, then the Queen would have killed not one, but TWO primary female figures in your life.”

The boy flinched.

“And since you never confronted your pain over your mother’s murder, you pushed away the only girl who has ever truly loved you. You kept her at arm’s length, so you wouldn’t be tempted to depend on her in any way, the way you depended on your mother’s love. You couldn’t allow yourself to chase the happiness—and vulnerability—that was dangling right in front of you, because you were paralyzed by fear of that euphoria being stripped away. Which was what happened when your mother was killed.”  

“NO!”

“And on some level, you now realize that you may have, in fact, manifested the terrible fate you were trying so hard to avoid—a second time. History may have indeed repeated itself.”

Florian shouted. He cried some more. He banged his fists on the couch. He stood up and began storming around the parlor, ranting and raving about the audacity—and the absurd fictitiousness!—of his father’s claims.

The King sat and watched, with nary a change in his features. He didn’t even breathe any faster.  

“What?!” Florian demanded, his voice raspy from overuse. His shoulders slumped when he registered his father’s blank stare.

“Son, come sit down. There’s something you should know.”

The prince obeyed.

“You understand that we value spirituality in this kingdom, yes?”

“Yes, and I don’t know if I agree with it. But so what? Where are you going with this?”  

“There is some spiritual lore that I need to share with you. You’re not going to like it, but I think it may help you understand why you’ve had to endure this ordeal.”

Florian clenched his fists. He could feel his former arrogance slipping through the miniscule spaces in between his stiffened fingers, like water. He’d thought all his pride had dissipated after he’d discovered Grimhilde’s body and then confessed his sins to his father; but apparently, there was still some left. He knew, regardless of what happened next, that he was going to leave this room a changed man.

“Florian,” Frederick said sternly, while placing a hand on one of his son’s fists. “Listen to me.”

The prince said nothing.

“Are you listening?”

A subtle nod.

“There is a very rare spiritual phenomenon I have heard about, with regard to romantic relationships. I don’t know if it has a name; but I have studied many texts written about its existence, in my quest to better understand the Divine—especially after your mother’s passing. I wanted answers. I wanted solace. I wanted to understand why God would allow something so terrible to happen to such a sweet and innocent person.”

“Did you find your answers? Are you at peace with what happened to Mother? Is finding closure even possible, when the love of your life is murdered?”

“I don’t know if closure is always possible, son. Some wounds are too deep to ever heal completely. And no, I did not find the answers about why the Divine decided to take your mother so soon, and in such a brutal fashion. We likely won’t learn the truth until we, ourselves, pass on and reunite with her on the other side. And while I don’t think that she and I experienced the phenomenon I’m about to explain to you—given how easily we bonded and realized we were destined to marry—I believe you may be one of the...lucky few to have been shouldered with such a unique and trying journey.”

“And why me?!”

“I don’t make the rules, son. You’ll have to ask whatever higher power you believe in. Perhaps you’ll receive an answer.”

“What JOURNEY do you think I’m on? Is this some kind of sick cosmic joke?”

“Not a joke; a lesson. A very profound lesson, which most people are not strong enough to handle. Young souls saddled with this journey would likely commit suicide, because the pain would be too much for them to bear. Not to mention the lack of support one typically receives on this journey, since so few people are equipped to provide worthwhile guidance. Also, most people would dismiss this phenomenon as an absurd myth, rather than a sacred spiritual undertaking, if they learned of its existence. They wouldn’t take its sufferers seriously. They might even deem sufferers mentally ill. That is why this phenomenon is usually endured alone, and the people who know about it keep the information close to the vest. It is a very isolating experience. Only the most powerful and evolved souls can stomach this journey—those who have lived many lifetimes, and are thus ready to begin—”

“Oh, gee, I’m so bloody flattered! And I don’t feel very EVOLVED right now! Why should I care about that? Even if I HAVE lived several previous lives, what the hell does that have to do with anything?!”

“Florian, be quiet and listen. And stop swearing. Now, the lore states the following: some individuals meet a person they are never able to forget; never able to shake off, regardless of what happens between them. The connection those two people have—which transcends the material world—is so strong, neither party can handle being in the other’s presence for very long, while they are too emotionally wounded. Thus, the universe often forces them apart for extended periods, to pressure them into healing on profound levels...far more than most people ever heal.

“These two people are divine partners; they are spiritually wedded for eternity, even if they do not marry on the Earth plane. In addition, they mirror each other perfectly, in their essence as well as in their woundedness; they have the same core wounds. And, as you may have noticed with Snow White, it is very difficult to be around someone who shows us parts of ourselves that we are not ready to confront. Divine partners are destined to meet in just about every lifetime—and then separate—until they are both healed enough to truly see themselves, through the energy their spiritual spouses reflect back to them. They are meant to cultivate the highest degree of self-love possible, which can only happen after they learn to love themselves as much as they love and yearn for their divine partners.

“Sometimes, these spiritual spouses are meant to reunite and spend their lives together, using their shared high-vibrational energy to uplift humanity and Earth itself. Other times, they never meet again until they pass on and reincarnate...because one or both of them did not heal enough in their previous human forms. Still other times, one of them...has to die, to teach the other party their most important lessons in that lifetime. Lessons of courage, empathy, and self-love.”

Digging his nails into his palms, Florian screamed until his lungs burned and his throat was red raw. His eardrums were close to bursting. He didn’t even feel the skin break on his hands. He wouldn’t feel it for another hour.

“Son, I cannot guarantee that this is your fated outcome with Snow White,” Frederick said loudly, to allow Florian to hear him over his cries. “It could be, but I’m not sure. It may be that this conversation, right here, is the most important moment of your life. Perhaps this lesson will be your greatest turning point, meant to catapult you into deeper levels of healing than you ever thought possible. Just like the lore states.”

“Well, you’re right that I don’t like this! How can I live with myself, knowing that I all but killed the girl I love by being a coward?!”

“You must come to terms with that on your own. But also remember that, if she is still alive, and you do have this divine connection with her, then—”  

“Then?!”

“I believe the laypeople are fond of the saying ‘Right person; wrong time.’ It could be that Snow White is, indeed, the girl you are meant to marry; but the appropriate time has not yet come.”

“And how the hell do I know which FATE I’ve been so BLESSED with? How much longer will I have to wait, until I have my answers? This is torture!”

“I don’t know. We do not get to decide that. We do not get to decide what is allowed to happen to us. All we can do is live our lives as meaningfully as possible, regardless of how dire our circumstances may be.”

“No! This is insane! I can’t do this. I—”

“Grieve. Cry. Scream. Feel your feelings now—something you have never allowed yourself to do before—and then release them. Life your life. Follow your passions and keep your heart open; perhaps another girl will capture your heart one day.”

“I don’t WANT another girl!!”

“Florian, waiting around for an answer about Snow White will not force it to arrive faster. That might even slow the process; what we resist persists. You must trust in the universe’s plan. All I can tell you is that, as long as I am alive, I will do my best to guide and support you on your journey. I love you, son. Always remember that.

-   +   -   +   -   +   -

Snow White stared at the wall, with her hand on her heart, as tears fell down her flushed cheeks. Florian wiped them away. He longed to kiss her entire face instead, but not in front of his father.

“You...you just said that you think our relationship may have...spiritual implications, yes?” she asked. “Am I interpreting this correctly?”

“Yes, love.”

“Do people in these types of relationships receive...signs? About the nature of their connection? That’s what the Algonquins called it, when they talked about the Divine communicating with people on the Earth plane.”

“Indeed!” answered Frederick. “Why do you ask? Have you perchance seen signs about your connection with Florian?”

“I think so. Florian, does the sentence ‘You fill the missing space in my heart’ mean anything to you?”

Chapter Text

“You fill the missing space in my heart,” Florian repeated. “That’s...a beautiful phrase, and it certainly describes how you make me feel.” He placed a soft kiss on Snow White’s shoulder. “But no, I don’t believe I’ve heard it before. I cannot think of what it might mean. Why do you ask?”

Snow White revealed all the times the sentence had appeared in her life, starting with the dream of Florian writing her a love letter. She trembled as she recounted the swell of conflicting emotions that had accompanied each of these eerie moments.

“That sounds like a sign to me!” Frederick declared. “And since you felt Florian’s presence so strongly in that dream, I’m going to venture a guess that his spirit traveled to visit you and deliver his message while you were both sleeping, because he—”

“I wasn’t yet brave enough to confess my feelings on the physical plane,” the prince finished.

“And what about the—well, I had another dream about Florian, not long after the first one: he was inside Grimhilde’s castle, socializing with many other nobles. I was still a maid. I called out to him, but he couldn’t hear me. He didn’t even know I was there. No one did. I felt invisible; like I didn’t matter. It was devastating. I could not stop crying.”

“Ahh. Very unfortunate. I’m sorry to hear that. Did you feel Florian’s presence, the way you did in the other dream?”

“I—I don’t think so. He felt out of reach.”

“I see.” Frederick stroked his chin for a moment before responding. Then his eyes lit up. “My theory is that, since the nightmare was such a stark contrast to your other dream, it was likely showing you your fears about Florian: worrying that you were insignificant to him, and believing that getting through to him was hopeless. Sometimes we have nightmares because our spirit guides are showing us fears that are coming up to be released, since they no longer serve us. They’re guideposts for our healing; not harbingers of doom.”

“Spirit guides can speak to us in dreams?!”

“Absolutely. And the more we hone our extrasensory abilities, the better we become at discerning divine messages about the future from signals about fears it’s time to release. Like those Algonquins told you: you are far more psychically gifted than you’re allowing yourself to believe.”

“I suppose I’m not crazy after all,” the princess muttered under her breath.

“I heard that,” drawled Florian. He placed his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “You are not crazy. You are intuitive and strong and...and you’ve been through far too much. Please don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“It’s difficult. No one has ever gone easy on me before, and so I don’t know how to go easy on myself.”

“I’ve noticed. Conversely, no one was hard enough on me. You had to grow up too fast, while I did not mature fast enough.”

“Wise words, my son,” Frederick praised. “You have learned well.”

“Thank you, Father.”

“You are welcome.” The King paused, mulling over his son’s observations. “You know, you two appear to be of opposite energetic polarities—yin and yang. That’s another detail that this lore states. You had to rebalance on your own, before being able to come together. I am now even more convinced that you two are are spiritually connected.”

“I agree,” said Florian. “And, Snow White, in case you’re worried about this: I will never use our spiritual bond as an excuse for how terribly I treated you in the past, as if you should have accepted my behavior as a divine consequence of our connection. We both had to learn agonizing, harrowing lessons, as my father told me not too long ago. I didn’t understand it all back then, when he explained it to me. I threw a fit and cried until my face was red and puffy. I’m glad you didn’t see me like that; I looked so awful, you probably would have fallen out of love with me.”

Snow White giggled. The sound warmed Florian’s heart. But he still felt a bit sick inside; there was a pressing need for him to redress his misdeeds. One or two displays of maturity would not suffice. Even with his father sitting just a few meters away, he began to share that which he’d discovered about himself in Snow White’s absence—he’d spent many long days dissecting his own psychology, trying to become a better person.

“I’m proud of the man you have become,” she told him, while cupping his cheek and gazing into his eyes. “I love you very much.”

King Frederick cleared his throat loudly. “I think a change of topic is in order. Don’t you?”

*   *   *

Their discourse shifted in a more political direction, which Snow White found intriguing—she’d never been privy to such conversations, outside of those she’d overheard while cleaning her stepmother’s castle.

Upon Grimhilde’s death—and her subjects’ relief—King Frederick had taken it upon himself to destroy her castle and absorb the territory into his own kingdom. And it was a much nicer kingdom, Snow White decided. The despot was humane, diplomatic, and respectful of all life; not only the lives of wealthy people.

Frederick was happy to explain the structure of his reign: he oversaw and discussed the implementation of new laws with his staff; he trained Florian in kingly duties so as to prepare him for the future; and he engaged in discourse with nearby kingdoms, to assure peace and diffuse disputes before they could escalate. He had servants, but they were given proper accommodations and more than enough food.

“I apologize if I’m overstepping, but...would I be able to see them?” Snow White asked. “The servants and their quarters, I mean. I’ve never seen servants who are treated fairly.”

“Of course!” replied Frederick. “That is a perfectly reasonable request. Come, Florian, let us show her around the castle.”

“Thank you; you’re too kind.”

“Don’t even mention it. My son and I are hosting you, so it’s only polite for us to give you a tour of our home.”

“Might I ask how long I will be permitted to stay?”

“You’re welcome to remain in my kingdom for as long as you’d like. I’m sure Florian will have no problem with this arrangement.”

The prince’s mouth had already begun turning upwards before his father had finished speaking.

“You will, of course, be tasked with her care,” Frederick instructed his son. “You will direct the servants to set up a room for her, and make sure she is well tended. It’s about time this girl be treated like the princess she is.”

Florian’s chest puffed out with pride. “I’d consider that an honor, Father.”

Snow White chuckled to herself, scarcely able to believe how drastically her circumstances had improved since her rescue. Life really could change at a moment’s notice! The princess was still afraid to trust that this change was permanent, but she resolved to enjoy it for as long as it would last.

*   *   *

Frederick had spoken the truth: he did treat his servants with dignity. He addressed all of them by name; he asked them how they were feeling each day, and if they needed anything—from cleaning supplies to new clothes; and he even smiled at them. He was also very strict about how other people were allowed to interact with them: no harassment or rudeness of any kind was tolerated. Servants may clean and cook for a living, but they were still human beings. The sight gave Snow White wet eyes.

Even the prisoners in the dungeon were handled with a degree of care—each cell had a small bed with warm blankets, sanitation, and a regular food supply. The occupants simply could not leave until they had served their sentences.

“They—they can’t go outside?” Snow White asked as the trio descended the stairs. She wasn’t sure if the sudden chill had come from the cold temperatures underground, or something inside her own skin. She wrapped her arms around herself.

“They cannot,” the prince answered. “We don’t imprison just anyone; they have to have committed serious crimes: murder, child abuse, and other such atrocities.”

“And some of them...some...prisoners never...can leave?”

“The worst offenders are here for life, yes.” He rubbed her arms up and down, trying to soothe her.

“But...but that’s—”

“Snow White, you must understand,” Frederick said gravely. “This kingdom is one of the most humane in England. We pride ourselves on our diplomacy and integrity. But some people take that as an invitation to break our rules, thinking that they’ll escape punishment by appealing to our compassionate nature. That is not so. My subjects and I uphold the highest standards of conduct, and we demand the same from our citizenry. There are no double standards in my territory. If a person commits an unforgivable crime, they must pay the price. The good people of my kingdom—including you—are safer because we take our justice system so seriously.”

Snow White found it hard to breathe as she regarded the scene before her: five rows of dark cells, carved out of the stone wall and lit by a single lantern on a shelf at eye level. Columns of metal bars separated the cells from the hallways. Prisoners were in various states of dress, cleanliness, and mental clarity.

The cells’ occupants were mostly men. Many of them looked restless. Some were grabbing the bars and crying. Some slept peacefully in their beds, or even on the floor. Others appeared to be meditating. Some were doing push-ups and other forms of exercise. Still others were pacing, muttering to themselves, or yelling angrily about their lot in life.

“How do they...live like this?” Snow White asked Florian, her voice feather-light.

“How they choose to view their imprisonment is up to them. They chose this fate when they decided to commit criminal acts. I wouldn’t concern myself with their predicament, if I were you. I know how kindhearted you are, but these men do not deserve your sympathy. They are murderers. Rapists. They are men like—”

The prince abruptly stopped speaking. He didn’t want to say it. Snow White didn’t want him to say it. She grimaced and looked away from the cells. Inhaling shakily, she chewed on her lip and focused on putting one foot in front of the other. The sooner they were out of this wretched place, the sooner she could breathe again.

Then one man leered at her. He waited until Frederick had passed by his cell, and Florian had looked in another direction...and then licked his lips while looking the princess up and down.

Snow White froze. The man locked eyes with her and his demonic grin widened, showing two rows of yellow, decaying teeth. When she did not move to back away, he began rubbing himself over his trousers.

The princess did not register where the screaming was coming from.

*   *   *

“Where am I?”

“In bed, dearie!”

Snow White tried to sit up, but the maid gently pushed her back down against the soft pillows. “Oh no no, not yet,” she ordered. “His Royal Highness the King told us that you gave everyone quite a fright, down in the dungeons! You fainted. You must rest.” She placed a cool compress to the girl’s forehead. “I’ll be right outside. Just call out for Tilly if you need anything. That’s me!”

“Thank you, Tilly. I’m sure I’ll be all right.”

The servant granted Snow White a warm, maternal smile, and scurried out the door.

Her beloved was sitting next to her on the bed, holding her hand—a sight that would have made her heart skip a beat, if not for the red tinge of his knuckles.

Her eyes narrowed. “Why is there blood on your hand?”

The prince grinned sheepishly. “There...may or may not be a prisoner in the dungeon with a broken jaw.”

“Florian!”

“I saw what he was doing, Snow White. I’ve never heard—I didn’t know you could scream like that.”

The princess sighed. While she was touched that Florian had defended her honor, she found his methods rather...base.

“Violence never really solves anything, you know,” she told him.

“But sometimes it is necessary. Even my father endorsed that blow, in case you were wondering.”

“He doesn’t like it when you swear, but he encourages you to hit a prisoner?”

“A prisoner who not only disrespected you, but also traumatized you. A sick feeling settled in the pit of my stomach when we all went into the dungeons; I wish I’d listened to it. I should’ve known that that excursion would have activated your memories of captivity. I apologize.”

“That’s—oh, that...does make a lot of sense. Traumatic memories do have a tendency to...linger.”

“Yes. You must be patient with yourself, as you heal.”

“You know, that reminds me of something the Algonquins said after Peter Pan first rescued me: I was telling them all about you, and they encouraged me to listen to my body because it is highly intelligent. They said our bodies are constantly sending us signals about certain people or experiences being good or bad for us.”

“I could probably take a lesson or two in that department!” Florian joked. “I spent years denying my feelings for you; I’m sure I would’ve noticed all the physical sensations inside me if I’d paid more attention, when we were spending time together outside Grimhilde’s castle. I tried to stay more in my mind, instead of my heart.”

“That’s exactly what the Algonquins were referencing. They had me do an exercise where I closed my eyes and pictured you, and then Hook, and I had to tell them what my body felt after each visualization. When I thought of you, everything just felt so...natural. I felt physically lighter. When I thought of Hook, I felt a leaden pressure weighing down on me—which I’d also felt all through my captivity. I hadn’t noticed it was there, most of the time, because I’d been so focused on ignoring my body’s signals in order to survive. Until now, I’d always thought my body couldn’t be trusted to tell me what was best for me. And...”

“And what?”

“I—in the dungeon, just now, it happened again. I didn’t...I stopped feeling myself. I did not realize what was happening, or that I was the one screaming. All I knew was that, for just a moment, I felt like I was trapped again, and I worried that I was about to be, you know....” She shuddered and began to cry.

“You don’t have to say it. I know you’re not comfortable using such words. I understand what you’re implying.”

Snow White rubbed her eyes and shivered at the awful memory.

“Would you like me to...lie down next to you?”

“Um...not right this minute. I need—I don’t really know how to say it. I’m trying to—”

“Take your time. It’s all right. No one is rushing you.” He squeezed her hand and stroked her knuckles.

“You can keep doing that,” she assured him with a wry smile. “I just...I need to be able to...breathe, you know?”

“Oh, I see. You want some space for your body.”

“Yes.”

“Would you like me to move a bit farther away?”

“No. Where you are is fine. Just...please don’t leave.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Thank you, my love. You...make me feel safe.”

Florian smiled. “That’s my job. So get used to it.”

Chapter Text

They talked about Snow White’s episode a lot over the next few weeks. As she relaxed more, with her nervous system gradually recognizing that she really was free, she revealed more details about her harrowing year with Hook. When she struggled, Florian helped her find the appropriate language to describe her experiences—some words were too violent for her to feel comfortable verbalizing; they affected her as much as the memories they detailed.

Every couple of nights, Florian awoke to the sound of shrill screams coming from down the hall, as Snow White grappled with yet another nightmare. He would bolt out of bed, race into her room, and pull the shaking princess close. No matter how exhausted he was, he would hold her and soothe her until she stopped crying. Even if it took hours to ease her back into slumber.

He scolded himself for the small part of him that wanted to peel off her nightdress during these highly-charged moments—he might have to speak to the seamstress about the type of wardrobe she was sewing for Snow White—but at least it was only a small part. By and large, all he wanted to do was comfort her. And that was all she wanted, as well.

Her trauma was severe, but Florian and Frederick were determined to support her as she healed. They promised to give her whatever time and accommodations she needed, as she acclimated to a normal life: something she’d never before experienced. Everyone knew that her adjustment period would be massive.

And so would Florian’s.

He tried to hide it from Snow White, but he was wracked with guilt. The more time he spent with her, the more keenly he was able to see how his past behavior had harmed her. And he was at a loss as to how to atone for his sins. Of course Hook had done far worse damage—but that vicious pirate would never have even laid eyes on Snow White, had Florian rescued her sooner.

“What are you thinking?” she asked him one day. “You look very stressed.”

“You are as perceptive as ever, sweet girl.” He wrapped his arm around her and kissed her temple. “I’m—you can probably tell, but...I’m trying to adapt as much as you are. I’ve never had—I’ve never interacted with anyone like this before. When I’m around you, I...don’t know what to do with myself. And I worry that I’m going to make another unforgivable mistake without realizing it, and hurt you, and then lose you again. Permanently.”

Snow White shook her head and rested her hand on his shoulder. “The best apology is changed behavior,” she insisted. “And so far, you are doing a wonderful job with that. Thank you.”

Her patience and kindness had only made him fall more deeply in love with her. He didn’t know how much harder he would fall over the next few months, but he sometimes joked that his heart might explode if his feelings intensified any further. How much love could one person hold inside? It was mind-boggling, how profoundly the princess affected him.

They were sitting by a stream near the castle, watching the little fish swim by. Her beauty was radiant; her renewed composure a relief and a delight to witness.

He watched her turn her face toward the sun and close her eyes. She smiled as a warm breeze blew through her hair—which had grown even longer. It was now halfway down her back, and Florian found himself hypnotized by the sight of the wind rippling the shimmering ebony locks.

As always, being in nature was as soothing a balm as any poultice. And after a year in captivity, the princess needed to be outside as much as possible.

I am unworthy.

Those words floated across Florian’s mind daily. And while he didn’t know how he had gotten this lucky, or how long his good fortune would last, he couldn’t help but gravitate toward the bewitching princess. He wanted to spend as much time with her as he could—for the sheer pleasure of her company, as well as to make up for lost time. He still feared the intensity of his feelings, but he was no longer letting his trepidation rule his life.

It also helped that Snow White had become a bit more forward over the past week. She had stroked Florian’s hair when his inner torment was visible on his face. She had begun reaching for his hand, or pulling him in for a hug, often taking him by surprise. He found the gestures soothing. The girl’s boldness spurred him to reach for some more courage of his own.

Without any preamble, he tilted her chin toward him and pressed his lips against hers.

She inhaled sharply and froze.

“Is this all right?” he whispered against her mouth.

She nodded, and tentatively snaked her arms around his back. Her body trembled.

Cupping her face in his hands, he used his tongue to gently coax her lips apart. She moved mechanically for a moment, to test the waters, and then...melted. Her head fell back, allowing him to lean forward and press more firmly against her lips. Her body moved closer to his, her lips and tongue relaxed, and her shoulders dropped as a heavy sigh escaped her rosy mouth.

Is this actually happening? he asked himself. His beloved princess was clinging to him, rubbing her small hands up and down his back and fisting his shirt as their mouths moved in tandem. Half of him wanted to devour her; while the other half wanted to continue moving slowly, and wait for her signal. Knowing how modest she was, and what she had endured with Hook, the last thing he wanted to do was make her feel pressured to engage physically.

But perhaps she was no longer as demure as she’d once been—a painfully shy girl would not be doing her best to match the movements of his demanding tongue, opening her mouth wider as if to swallow him whole, and moaning softly while he stroked her cheeks.

It felt like hours had passed when they broke the kiss, but neither of them wanted to move much more. He rested his forehead against hers, stroked her soft arms, and inhaled her scent. God, she was magnificent.

After a moment, Snow White pulled back and wiped her eyes.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Florian raised his eyebrows, hoping to lighten the mood with a joke. “Am I...that bad at it?”

“Oh, no,” Snow White chuckled. “You’re amazing. It’s just that...I never knew kissing could feel so...magical. It’s making my head spin.”

Florian’s heart dropped into his chest. It was all he could do not to scream to the heavens, demanding to know what this poor girl had done to have deserved such a hellish past. Instead, he forced a tiny smirk and said, “That’s what happens when you kiss someone you actually find attractive.”

“Apparently,” the princess sniffled. “All I’ve ever experienced in this realm has felt so forced. I thought something was wrong with me; that I couldn’t loosen up enough to be...normal, with the opposite sex. I had to try so hard to reciprocate with Hook; I could never perform physical acts with him, without conscious effort. I thought I was, you know...frigid. Or a selfish lover.”

Florian fervently wished to resurrect the pirate, just to kill him again. And again. And again. More brutally each time. It would never be enough.

Once his anger abated, a more pleasant thought occurred to the prince: there was something he’d wanted to ask Snow White for the past few weeks; however, the appropriate moment had not presented itself. The timing had never seemed quite right. He’d been petrified of rushing the princess, or appearing too needy. But after such a passionate first kiss, there was no more room for doubt.

“Snow White,” he murmured. “I sincerely apologize for the delay. I realize these words are impossibly overdue, but...I would like to court you properly.”

Her kiss-swollen lips parted into a radiant smile. Her flushed cheeks took on an even darker hue. “I would like that very much.” 

*   *   * 

Their first official outing as a couple took place the following afternoon. One of the servants, a young woman named Miranda, had insisted on fussing over the princess for a solid hour beforehand. She sifted through the various dresses the seamstress had crafted for the girl, brought over a few different palettes with blush and eyeshadow, and tried four hairstyles before settling on one they both agreed with.

Snow White’s lips parted when Miranda finally allowed her to stand before the mirror. She couldn’t believe the sight that greeted her: obsidian locks tied back in a half-ponytail and cascading down her back in elegant waves. Long eyelashes appearing even longer, thanks to a generous layer of mascara. Lips painted the color of dried blood. Cream-colored nails. A floor-length maroon dress with rhinestones decorating the neckline—which was almost too low to be considered modest. A platinum necklace glittering with emeralds and blue topaz, hanging a few centimeters above the neckline, accentuating her collarbones.

Was that really her? Did she truly have the right to be so beautiful? Should she stop staring at her reflection? Was she becoming vain, like Grimhilde, by allowing herself to take this much pleasure in her own appearance? Would she grow too attached to her form, in its current state, and begin to define herself too much by her exterior attributes? What would happen when she got older and—

“Heyyy,” Miranda cooed, while tapping Snow White’s forehead. “What just happened in there? You looked elated for about two seconds...and now you’re close to tears? Oh, sweetie, please don’t ruin that makeup. I just spent fifteen minutes perfecting it. The prince will be here shortly—”

“Oh my goodness. I’m so sorry, Miranda. I didn’t think about that.” Snow White squared her shoulders and willed the tears to stop forming.

“Don’t you worry about me; I was just teasing. Now, what’s wrong? Would you like me to try a different approach? If it’s the blue eyeshadow—”

“No, no, please don’t fret. The makeup is positively dazzling. I apologize for worrying you. It’s just that...I’ve never been so, um...taken aback by my own appearance. I know that I am above average in—”

“Princess, you are gorgeous. You are striking. And you are allowed to use those words to describe yourself. This does not make you vain.”

Snow White bit back more tears.

“Stop being so afraid of your beauty,” Miranda implored. “You didn’t come by it in unnatural or cruel ways; you didn’t steal it from someone else. You were born this way. And—oh my goodness gracious, after everything you’ve been through, you think that being one of the most beautiful girls alive is some kind of sin? No, my dear. You deserve to be happy—through viewing your own appearance, and through anything else that brings you joy.”

“You really...don’t think I’m in danger of becoming superficial, like my stepmother?”

“Not a chance. In fact, that you’re worried about becoming vain is indicative of your lack of vanity. Conceited people don’t care about the consequences of being self-absorbed. Evil people don’t care about who they hurt in order to achieve their ends. You, my dear, are the polar opposite of all that. Simply being beautiful, and appreciating it, does not make you a bad person. You have eyes; they can see what’s in front of them. This is nothing to be ashamed of.”

More sniffling.

“Let me ask you something, your Highness: are you defining your entire existence by your appearance?”

Snow White shook her head.

“Do you wish harm on those who are younger or more attractive than you?”

“No, of course not! I don’t care about that; I just want to be happy and healthy. And safe, obviously.”

“You are safe. You are safe inside these walls. You are safe inside this kingdom. And you are safe to be as radiantly beautiful as you are, for as long as that may last. Enjoy it. You are not hurting anyone by quietly appreciating your own appearance. Looking in a mirror—for longer than three seconds—is not a crime. You are allowed to be happy. You deserveto be happy. You deserve to have good things happen to you—even if that makes other people jealous.”

“But my stepmother was so jealous of me, she tried to—”

“I know. We all do. And that was not your fault. You did not make her do what she did. And you are never, ever forcing anyone to react to you a certain way; how they behave is a testament to their strength of character. Not yours. And I daresay, you have more strength of character than almost anyone I have ever known. I am in awe of you, princess. It is an honor to serve you.”

Now Snow White was crying in earnest.

The sight tugged at Miranda’s heart, and she was soon producing a few tears of her own. Everyone in the castle knew what the poor girl had gone through; so it was no surprise that she was now ashamed and afraid of her own radiance. She feared retribution—either from a jealous person, or from some entity on high who saw fit to punish her for becoming too shallow.

Miranda could hardly stand it. “Your Highness, may I...hug you?”

The princess nodded and folded the sweet lady into a tight embrace. And while Miranda needed to completely redo Snow White’s makeup, the servant saw no reason to complain. She knew that the words she’d just spoken to the princess would help her loads more than any dusting of mascara.

And besides, Snow White had another reason to be happy this afternoon: the sound of approaching footsteps was growing louder and louder by the second.

Chapter Text

Knock knock knock.

“You’ll be fine!” Miranda hissed, with a giggle. “Don’t keep him waiting.”

After a deep, shaky inhalation, Snow White extended her trembling arm and opened her bedroom door.

There stood Florian, looking even more handsome than usual. He was wearing a crisp gray shirt that clung to his muscular torso. Brown pants and black boots provided a striking contrast. A deep red cape completed the ensemble.

Snow White’s jaw dropped at the enchanting sight before her. She wanted to eat this man alive.

Florian’s eyes skimmed her figure, and he responded in kind.

“Oh, you two lovebirds!” Miranda laughed. “Close your mouths and stop ogling each other. You’re not meant to stay in here all afternoon!”

Prince and princess joined in the giggles before setting off down the hall, arm-in-arm.

“I make no promises that I will not continue to ogle you for the remainder of the day,” Florian murmured. “You are absolutely ravishing.”

“So are you,” Snow White whispered. “And I make no promises that I won’t trip over something while staring at you.”

“If that’s another excuse for me to carry you around, or at least hold onto you, then I will take full advantage of that.”

Unlocking his arm from hers, he slipped it around her waist. His firm grip made her shiver. She moved her left arm to his shoulder, and held on just as tightly. The smile tugging at the corners of his mouth set her heart aflutter.

The princess barely noticed her surroundings as she and the prince descended the staircase and crossed the courtyard. She didn’t realize how high she was holding her head, basking in the joy of this momentous day. All her mind registered was Florian.

She was officially courting the man she’d loved for almost five years. A quarter of her life. They were out in the open, proudly displaying their mutual affection, for anyone who might be passing by. There was no embarrassment, no fear, and no confusion about either party’s true intentions. There was only bliss. Calm certainty. A sense of all being as it should be.

Snow White had dreamed of this moment for years, and she could scarcely believe that it was finally here.

They settled on a bench near the woods. Snow White had, of course, requested an outdoor meeting. She still could not get enough of the gorgeous landscape—or all the fresh air. She closed her eyes and lifted her head to the sky, loving the scent of the earth and the trees surrounding her.

“How has this day been treating you?” Florian asked.

“It’s been wonderful. Miranda is such a gem.”

“She’s one of our best. I think that’s why my father sent her to help you get ready today.”

Snow White confirmed this claim as she told Florian about the servant’s touching speech. Florian, of course, agreed with every word Miranda had spoken. It was about time that the princess start enjoying her life, he added.

Florian’s morning had been very busy. He and his father had held a meeting with one of Grimhilde’s former tailors, who was having struggles similar to Snow White’s: acclimating to life under a benevolent ruler, and trusting that he was safe. He had spent much time in the Queen’s dungeons, as punishment for having sewn her robes with minor mistakes in the stitching. He had calmed down since King Frederick had hired him; but the poor man continued to jump at shadows, and he was often paralyzed with fear of making mistakes. Still, he took immense pride in his work. Frederick and Florian had begun spending leisure time with him when their schedules allowed it. The tailor needed to be socialized as much as he needed to learn to trust in his skill set.

The prince had then completed another sparring lesson with his instructor, which happened thrice weekly. Some of his parries were not as polished as they should have been, but he was improving. Snow White could attest to this, having watched him train several times. She may have also been admiring his musculature, but she wasn’t ready to tell him that.

“Is something on your mind?” he asked her, after they’d sat in comfortable silence for a time.

Snow White nodded. “I keep thinking about how awkwardly we both behaved when we were meeting secretly.”

“Back when you were Grimhilde’s maid?”

“Yes. I berated myself so much, for the way I acted in your presence—”

“I did not exactly make things easy, you will recall. Had I been more forthcoming, you would have responded more calmly. I was older than you. I should have known better than to treat a younger girl that way—especially a girl with no experience in such matters. And not a friend in the world. You have my sincerest apologies.”

“Thank you. But it’s not merely your prior insincerity I’m thinking about right now. There’s something I haven’t told you.”

“What is it?”

“It’s something that has plagued me for a long time, and I have struggled to decide if I should even mention it.”

“What are you afraid of, exactly?”

“I’m scared that you’ll think I’m too heavily invested in our relationship, and trying to pressure you into moving too fast.”

“Would you permit me to say something slightly...indelicate?”

Snow White bit her lip, but nodded.

“Have you any idea how much I have wrestled with myself, in recent weeks, as I have tried to keep my gaze at an appropriate vantage point when you have been near? And how much self-control I have had to employ, to stop my hands from wandering?”

Her cheeks warmed as the prince’s fingers traveled up her arm, and traced the neckline of her dress. She shivered—and not from the lightness of his touch.

“God, I love it when you blush,” he whispered. His lips were on hers a moment later—then on her cheeks, and then her forehead. He even stole a quick nip at her neck, which made her gasp.

“Florian—”

“You were saying?” he muttered, lacing his arm around her waist and holding her firmly. His other hand gripped hers. “You’re afraid that you’ll appear too eager? Have I assuaged your fears?”

“In that regard, yes,” she laughed nervously—and then shifted to try and dull the ache that was suddenly pulsing in between her legs. “But it’s not just our physical behavior that I’ve been on edge about. I’m also rather terrified that you’ll think I’m...delusional.”

“Didn’t we have the whole you’re-not-crazy conversation when you told me about your chat with the Algonquins, about me? And that phrase you kept seeing?”

“Yes, but—”

“Is this news you’re withholding of a spiritual nature?”

“I think so, but I’m not sure.”

“Why don’t you just tell me? I promise not to judge you in any fashion. Remember: I’m the one who should be judged; not you. I behaved abominably.”

“You did.”

“And I will never deny or downplay that. Now, what is it you need to share with me?”

“Do you recall the day you serenaded me outside Grimhilde’s castle?”

“Right after I’d written One Song? Of course! Singing it for you was one of the most nerve-wracking moments of my life—and not just because that huntsman attacked me.”

Snow White chuckled. “Yes. That day. A few hours before you arrived, I did something that I’d deliberated on the entire time we’d known each other, but I had been too afraid. I’d feared the answer I would receive, after posing my questions.”

“Ahh. I think I understand. Did you speak with someone who has spiritual gifts? A psychic medium?”

“No, not a person.” Her breath now came in heavy gasps; the moment was upon her. She was finally going to reveal her deepest secret.

“Then what?”

“The—the Queen’s wishing well.”

“Okay...and what did you do, at the wishing well?”

“I sang to it. I wished for you to come for me that day, and....” Her eyes welled up.

Could she really go through with this? Was she brave enough—or stupid enough—to tell Florian her most profound desire, when they were only on their first outing as a couple? Despite his reassurances, would she appear needy and desperate after all?

The prince squeezed her hand tighter. “It’s all right. You can tell me. What else did you wish for?”

“That we would...that you would love me and we would be...life partners.”

“And then what happened?”

“It echoed. My voice echoed. That’s what...that’s what it does when—”

“—when your wish will come true,” Florian finished for her, like it was the most obvious statement in the world.

Snow White whirled around to face him. “How did you know that??”

“This kingdom has a wishing well, too. We often use it during moments of crisis, because it is infallible. That’s partly how we are able to rule so peacefully—the wishing well guides us on which potential new laws will yield positive outcomes, if they are implemented.”

“W-what?” the princess croaked. “They—you mean...wishing wells really cannot be tampered with??”

“Of course not! Whatever gave you such a dreadful idea?”

Snow White’s mouth hung open. Her breath caught in her throat. She forgot to blink.

And then she burst into hysterical tears.

Slapping her hand over her mouth and nose did nothing to muffle the sound, so she gave up on trying. She instead clutched her heavy heart in both hands, doubled over, and sobbed against her skirt. Despite being in public, and not wanting to attract attention, she could not stop the flood of bittersweet emotion wracking her entire body.

She wasn’t crazy. She wasn’t lying to herself, and she never had been. She’d been right about Florian from the very beginning. Her intuition had always told her the truth. Her heart had always told her the truth. All this time, she had suffered needlessly. Had she only stayed true to her heart, instead of listening to jealous naysayers like Hook and Grimhilde....

Florian bent forward and gathered the shaking princess into his arms. “Have you seriously been carrying such an awful burden this whole time?”

She nodded.

“You’ve spent all these years worrying that you were deranged, simply because the wishing well told you what you’d wanted to hear??”

“Y-yes...I thought that m-maybe Grimhilde had t-tampered with it...because she’d wanted to t-torment me. I worried that she’d found out about my meetings with you, and sh-she wanted to punish me and...and—”

“Do you know what happens if you even attempt to tamper with a wishing well?”

“N-no....”

“You die.”

“WHAT?!”

“You die,” he repeated. “These structures are so powerful, and so rare, that more people fear them than use them. Snow White, I guarantee that Grimhilde never went near that thing, with the intent to torment you. She valued her own life—and her own beauty—more than anything, yes?”

“Yes....”

“So, there you have it. Had she known about our visits before the day I came and sang to you, she would have done something about it. Something that had nothing at all to do with her wishing well. And honestly, I’ll wager that she never even used it, for any reason, because she couldn’t have handled hearing the truth. For having used the wishing well yourself, knowing that you might not have gotten the answers you’d wanted, you’re already braver than she ever was.”

More weeping. More wheezing. More gasping for air.

“Please cut yourself some slack, Snow White. As I keep telling you, you have nothing to be ashamed of. You didn’t do anything wrong. And your feelings, when approaching the wishing well, were perfectly justifiable. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Sh-she...Grimhilde wasn’t s-scared of the t-truth—she had this Magic Mirror that always told her—”

“Shhhh,” Florian soothed. “It’s all right. Don’t you worry about Grimhilde. You’re safe. You’re...intelligent. You’re mature. You’re intuitive. And you are not crazy. Do you understand me?”

Snow White was still crying too hard to respond. She couldn’t even lift her head to signal yes or no.

The prince could feel his heart shattering. This young lady had not only pined for him for years, but she’d also driven herself to distraction, worrying that her heart’s longing had been a symptom of mental illness. She had viciously berated herself, simply for having developed feelings for him and hoping that the two of them would enter into a permanent relationship. The sort of thing that every girl wants.

How had she been led to believe that such desires were shameful—or that they made her appear too eager, and even delusional?

Had he treated her properly from the beginning, she would not be falling apart in his arms—for what felt like the hundredth time. She had endured too much in her short life. And she was breaking under the weight of it all. Grimhilde may have been the one to have ordered her killed, and Hook may have been the one who’d held her captive; but Florian knew that Snow White could have been spared any and all of her agony of the past few years, had he only swallowed his pride and summoned his courage when they’d first met.

Snow White may have forgiven him, having the heart of gold that she did, but he would never forgive himself.

“What can I do?” he asked, trying not to sound as frantic as he felt. “How can I make this right?”

“J-just...be with me. P-please.”

“Always. Wishing well or not, I’ll be here as long as you’ll have me. I’ll be here until you get sick of me.”

Slowly lifting her head up, Snow White regarded Florian as if he’d just spoken in tongues. “Wha—how...I—Florian, I could never get sick of you.”

“Check back in after a few years. You’ll undoubtedly find some aggravating habit of mine, which will make you want to throttle me.”

Snow White chuckled through her tears.

“Would you like to visit our wishing well?” he asked after a few minutes of silence.

“Yes, please. I think that will give me piece of mind—and perhaps another crying jag, unfortunately. I am so sorry, my love; I didn’t mean to ruin our first outing as a couple.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. This is entirely my fault, and I need to see this through. I need to face the consequences of my actions. Even if it takes the rest of my life.”

After placing a soft kiss on her shoulder, Florian reached into his pocket and produced a handkerchief. He gently dabbed at Snow White’s face with his right hand, while cradling the back of her head in his left. He massaged her scalp and murmured repeated apologies—punctuated with kisses—until she relaxed. They regarded each other quietly for a long moment.

“Oh no,” she sighed, looking at the smudges on the handkerchief.

“What is it?”

“This is the second time I’ve ruined my makeup today. Miranda will be so put out.”

Florian couldn’t help but chortle. He pulled Snow White into another hug, and then finished wiping the smudged mascara off her face.

*   *   * 

Fifteen minutes passed before Snow White felt strong enough to walk again. Still, Florian insisted on keeping one arm around her waist and the other on her forearm, as they traipsed toward King Frederick’s wishing well. She gripped his shirt, her glassy eyes staring at nothing on the ground.

Florian felt sick to his stomach. He wanted to kick himself. Violently.

When would he ever be worthy of this woman? Could the damage ever be undone? Could he ever adequately pay for his crimes against the princess?

“I’m not in the mood to sing,” she rasped, while running one shaky hand along the lip of the wishing well. “I can hardly even speak right now. Will that...affect anything, when I make my wishes?”

“Not at all.” He moved behind her and snaked his arms around her middle, to keep her steady. “The well does not judge a person’s tone—trust me: if it did, my father and I would have both been cursed by now. Repeatedly.”

Snow White snickered, in spite of herself.

“A royal man is not always able to keep his cool in the face of disappointment,” Florian murmured into her hair. “But we try.”

Feeling the princess lean back against his chest helped his nervous system settle; she fit so naturally in his arms, like a once-missing puzzle piece finally slotting into place. He wanted to hold her there for all eternity.

“Right, so I just...talk to it? Normally?”

“However you’d like.”

Snow White stated her wishes, one by one, and clutched Florian’s arms more tightly each time her tired voice echoed up from the depths.

Both of them thought the same thing: It was true. They really were meant to be.

If not for his strong hold on her, she would have doubled over again. She settled for turning around and burying her face in his neck as she sobbed.

The prince’s heart fragmented in his chest a second time. He knew his partner’s tears were bittersweet—and probably more sweet, at this point—but it still tore him up inside. He still felt the weight of his failures like a block of lead pressing down on him. His stomach still churned as if it were filled with lava, while he grappled with the full scope of the pain he had caused Snow White.

And now his face was as soaked as hers.

They cried together, holding each other in a vise-grip.

The sun was hanging low in the sky when they at last made their way back to the castle.

Chapter Text

Snow White hesitated outside her bedchamber. Her hand was frozen on the doorknob. Meanwhile, Florian’s firm hands were wandering up and down her waist, causing that throbbing ache to return in between her legs. She squeezed her thighs together and bit her lip.

This had only been their first outing. It was not proper to rush a new courtship, especially between royals. And yet, after everything they had been through....

“Would you like to come in?” her mouth asked of its own accord. She hadn’t remembered giving it permission to utter such words, but it had happened anyway.

“More than anything,” the prince replied gruffly. The tone in his voice sent shivers down her spine.

She had barely finished closing the door when Florian whirled her around and pushed her against it. Gripping her shoulders, he assaulted her mouth with a searing kiss.

For a split-second, she tried to think. She prepared herself to analyze what was happening, because she assumed that she would feel too awkward, or unsure of how to express herself. She thought she would need to coach herself through each act—what to say, which sounds to make, where to put her hands—but she found that none of that was necessary.

She actually couldn’t think. She didn’t want to think. All she wanted was to feel. Her body was in control. She surrendered.

This is real. I am with Florian now. I’m not crazy. I’m healthy. I’m in love, and I am not ashamed.

Neither of them spoke as their hands began roving over each other’s bodies, hastily tugging and grabbing and unbuttoning. They faltered occasionally—as if to say Is this really happening?—but every minute flowed into the next. Everything felt hazy. The details of the outside world faded out, leaving only the two of them...and the bed.

Snow White gasped when Florian scooped her up in his arms and placed her on the soft mattress. He was gentle, but more firm than he’d ever been with her before; just a bit more force, and he would have thrown her onto the bed.

Would she have liked that? Possibly. But her mind was too foggy to consider it right now.

Just a moment earlier, while they’d still been upright, he had unzipped her dress and yanked it down in order to kiss her shoulders. Now, with her reclining, he pulled the fabric down further to expose her torso. She arched her back and stretched her arms above her head, without even thinking. Everything was moving so quickly, but the pace felt perfect.

It both frightened and amazed her how intensely her body reacted to the prince. Her existence was no longer complete without him near her, all around her, on top of her. She couldn’t pull him close enough. She wanted him everywhere at once.

Her breaths came faster and louder as his lips left trails of heat up and down her quivering form. It drove Florian out of his mind, as much as it did Snow White. He had tried to remain at least somewhat composed, knowing the sexual horrors the princess had endured—and yet the sight of her exposed flesh was threatening to unravel him.

He had never seen such a beautiful body. Her skin was flawlessly smooth. The peaks of her small breasts were a rich dark pink that almost matched her mouth. Her subtle curves contrasted perfectly with her slightly plump cheeks and pouty lips. And the scent emanating from her creamy flesh—mostly from in between her legs—was heightening his arousal to dangerous levels. Simply looking at her, and thinking about everything he wanted to do to her, made him worry that he had regressed into an animal. He closed his eyes and inhaled through clenched teeth.

“Are you all right?”

Her melodious voice sent a fresh jolt of longing through him. His body jerked involuntarily. When she reached up to caress his neck, he shuddered.

“Florian, what’s wrong? Am I not...doing this right?”

“Oh my goodness, no. You are perfect. It’s...it’s me.”

“What is it?”

“I hope you’ll forgive me for saying this—”

“What’s going on??”

He covered her body with his own, and kissed her until she relaxed. “Please don’t fret. Nothing is wrong with you. I am—let’s just say I am having an internal conflict.”

“What do you mean?”

Florian sighed. “If you are not amenable, then please don’t give this a second thought. But if you are amenable, I would very much like to be more...forceful with you.”

“W-what—could you elaborate? You’re making me a bit nervous.”

“Not to force you to do something you don’t want to do; but merely to...ugh. I suppose I worded that badly. I meant that I want to be more passionate in my physical expression. If you want this to be slow and gentle, I will, of course, honor that. And I’ll enjoy it. But if you want something more intense—”

“Yes,” she breathed. “Just...start off slowly, all right? Though I’ve done this several times before, it was never on my own terms. I never had the option to say no.” Her eyes misted over. “So, in a way, this feels like my first time all over again.”

“That wasn’t sex. That was rape. Which means that this is your first time. And I’m going to make sure it exceeds your expectations. I will worship your body. It’s the least I could do, after everything I put you through.”

“I hope you’re not just saying that out of guilt, and you really do want to...worship my body.”

His shoulders slumped. “I do feel guilty; you know that. And I probably always will, if I’m being completely honest. I don’t know that I’ll ever forgive myself for what I did to you before. But I do not view you as a charity case. This is not about my ego. I love you. I desire you. I want to make love to you more than anything right now.”

She bit her lip and nodded.

“Tell me if you want me to stop. Anytime. You set the pace.”

“All right. Thank you.”

Taking a slow, measured breath, Florian rubbed Snow White’s shoulders and began kissing her neck. He kept his touch light at first, and gradually added more pressure. To his delight, the harder his lips pressed against her skin, the more she panted and whimpered. Especially when he ground his stiffness against her.

Kissing turned to licking and sucking, and then a combination of all three, as he lavished more attention on her neck and then down her chest.

She squealed when he softly kissed a nipple. “Please....”

“Please what, love?”

“More....”

A switch flipped inside him. His restraint crumbled, like shackles falling from his wrists.

He closed his mouth around the nipple, licking and sucking hard. His hands roved all over her torso—he made a mental note to finish removing her dress when his mouth was not otherwise occupied. Widening his jaw, he took the entire breast into his mouth.

“Ohhh!”

He bit her. He couldn’t help it. The taste of her soft flesh was unraveling something inside him. He needed more.

Thankfully, her response was encouraging: she wrapped her arms around him and cried out shamelessly—paying no mind to whomever might be within earshot. She was past the point of caring.

And so was he.

He lavished more attention on her breasts, licking and sucking and biting until she’d climaxed twice. Her mouth hung open and her head lolled on the pillow. She was flushed down to her chest. The sight took his breath away.

No girl had ever responded to him the way she did. He’d had his fair share of shallow encounters, and a few relationships, but nothing like this. No partner had cried out for him from the depths of her very soul. No partner had reacted so strongly, just to superficial stimulation.

Part of him worried that he was in danger of returning to his former conceit—would he become more aroused by Snow White’s reactions to him, rather than by the princess herself, and his love for her? Would he slip back into judging the quality of an encounter by his partner’s reverence, instead of their degree of shared affection?

He hoped not. All he knew for sure was that he loved Snow White so much, it terrified him—but the thought of losing her again scared him more. He supposed that their rapidly-increasing emotional intimacy was a testament to his maturity, as he’d been striving to strengthen his character. In just a few short weeks, this girl had torn down every single one of his defenses and left him feeling helplessly raw. Sometimes he wanted to retreat into a cave and hide; in other moments, he wanted to kneel at Snow White’s feet and beg for mercy. Mercy he did not deserve.

Before he’d met her, no one had ever seen through his façade and still loved him. No one had ever looked at him the way she’d been doing since Day One: as if he was the most important person in her ecosystem. As if his very existence made the whole world brighter. As if he could discover Heaven on Earth through entering the most divine, loving partnership...as long as he would share his true self with her, even when it was scary. Especially when it was scary.

How could he rise to such a daunting challenge? Despite high praise from his partner as well as his father, he feared that his best efforts were still falling short. Was he even remotely worthy of Snow White? Will he ever have done enough to counteract the destruction he had wrought in her life? Would he ever succeed at eradicating her pain?

The prince sighed. This probably wasn’t the right time to be entertaining such thoughts. He had a mostly-naked goddess lying beneath him, who required further veneration. And he was more than eager to fall to his knees.

“Let’s get rid of this,” he muttered, peeling her dress the rest of the way off and hurling it out of the way. It silently pooled on the floor.

His fingers paused at the waistband of her pale blue knickers.

“It’s all right,” she whispered.

Though he had just spent several minutes devouring her breasts like a starving beast, he now found himself wanting to unwrap her body like the most precious gift, meant only for him. He took his time sliding her panties down her legs and over her small feet, before tossing them in the direction of her dress.

She parted her thighs automatically. His shoulders sagged once more, and his jaw fell open at the mouth-watering sight.

“Oh my god, you’re soaked.”

“It’s all your fault,” she teased.

“I will gladly take responsibility for that.” Florian’s gaze drifted back and forth between her flushed face and her glistening folds. His eyes darkened with lust.

The last time she’d been this exposed to a man, Snow White had felt like a lamb in a slaughterhouse. But here with Florian, she felt idolized. Protected. Cared for. This man was not using her body for his selfish gratification; he was satisfying her because he wanted her to feel good. He enjoyed giving her pleasure as much as she enjoyed receiving it.

There was no predator and prey; no giver and taker. There was only an equal exchange. Florian’s touch felt deferential; not merely possessive. And while his possessiveness was evident, Snow White found this trait appealing because it showed that the prince valued her—he wanted to ensure that there was no doubt in her mind, how much he cared for her and wanted her all for himself...as long as she would have him. He did not feel entitled to her, the way Hook had.

This was love.

Love guided each of Florian’s caresses, each one of his firm kisses trailing down Snow White’s body. Love guided him to part her moistened folds and gently slide his tongue inside. And love motivated her to spread her thighs wider to allow him more room; to entrust him with her care and her pleasure. She was letting him get to know her in the most intimate way possible, because it felt perfectly natural. And necessary.

His back tensed. His strong arms flexed as he held her. She could feel that he was, once again, trying to restrain himself. She wasn’t sure why—she’d given him permission to be more rough with her. Perhaps he feared that doing so would remind her of Hook. Or maybe he was merely testing the waters, before fully immersing himself.

It seemed to be the latter. Long, languid licks gradually gave way to forceful and frantic strokes that left Snow White panting and begging for more.

“You taste incredible.”

Florian’s words made her shudder, almost as much as his tongue. His voice had deepened and become more gravelly as he’d given in to his primal side. It scared her, how much she enjoyed his behavior—as well as the hungry look in his eyes.

She didn’t recognize the sounds coming from her own throat. Who was this wanton creature keening and squealing and grabbing the prince’s hair, to pull his face closer as her hips undulated?

She had never made sounds like this while with Hook. Looking back, she now wondered if she really had been too self-conscious about her sexual urges—or if she’d merely been too uncomfortable expressing them with Hook, because she hadn’t been attracted to him. No matter how sexual a person is, they will never feel comfortable letting loose with someone they do not desire.

Snow White was still a bit anxious and afraid, but she felt comfortable. Mostly.

Despite feeling more open at ease in bed, she still found herself holding back in one key area: she had yet to say Florian’s name. That was one act of sexual expression that she’d been unable to accomplish. The thought terrified her; an unseen force closed her throat and filled her lungs whenever she considered doing it. She couldn’t understand why.

Is it because I spent so many years ashamed of my love for Florian? she wondered. Is it because I’ve never moaned a man’s name in bed? Is it because Hook forced me to do it when I was with him?

Granted, she hadn’t actually said the name James as one word; it had come out in three stilted, half-formed sounds that had contained not one drop of sexual longing. Therefore, that awkward moment hadn’t counted, in her eyes.

She hated that that monster was still invading her mind as Florian was ravishing her. The man she loved was finally fulfilling all of her deepest fantasies; and yet it wasn’t enough to silence her traumatic memories. They still haunted her like cobwebs sticking to the corners of her psyche, just out of reach when she reached up to clean the walls. Or grease bonded to the bottom of a pan, which still lingered no matter how hard she scrubbed. Would these ghosts ever leave her? Hook was dead. His influence should be, as well.

A deep kiss silenced her ruminations. Florian was lying atop her once more, stroking her face and caressing her body. The stiffness between his legs pressed against her thigh. She was rubbing him over his trousers, before she realized her hand had traveled south.

He smiled. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

Her body warmed as she watched him undress. He was lean, strong, and smooth. Years of sparring and dueling and riding horses had granted him a sturdy form with well-defined muscles; Snow White couldn’t help but squeeze her legs together. And his member—oh, god. It was thick, long, and dripping with precum. Her face now felt as hot as if she’d just spent an hour cooking outdoors in August. God, this man’s effect on her body really was unreal.

I did this to him, she thought, feeling equal parts proud and astonished. I am the only girl making him react like this. I’m the only girl he wants. And he’s letting me see that. He’s not afraid of his desire for me anymore.

Though her virginity was a thing of the past, Florian was cautious when he entered her for the first time. It was a special moment for both of them, and they wanted to savor every second. She even took a while wrapping her legs around his waist, and snaking her arms around his back.

She moaned loudly when he began to move inside her slick heat at last. His thrusts were slow and deep, causing throbs of pleasure to ripple throughout her whole body.

“Oh, you feel amazing,” she gasped.

“So do you,” he grunted. “Oh my god....”

As much as she was enjoying the slow and steady approach, it also felt torturous. It wasn’t enough.

“Harder,” she whispered in his ear, before kissing his jaw.

“Not yet.”

“Why—I...I can’t w—” She shuddered. “More...please...oh, god—”

Say it.

“Faster, please!!”

Just say it already.

“Ohhh....”

He’s probably wondering why you haven’t said it yet. What are you waiting for?

She gritted her teeth and buried her face in her bedfellow’s neck. “Oh, Florian...FLORIAN!”

“Fuck,” he groaned. He bit his lip and pressed his forehead against hers, trying to maintain his control—but hearing his name on her lips affected him more than he’d thought it would. He threw her legs over his shoulders, pinned her wrists above her head, and began thrusting forcefully.

Her screams of ecstasy echoed off the stone walls. And once she’d moaned his name, she couldn’t stop. An intense rush of heat flooded her from her head to her toes, every time the word left her lips; her skin felt inflamed. She found this development both terrifying and empowering.

They moved together for several minutes, so lost in each other that they couldn’t hear the bedsprings creaking, or the headboard rattling against the wall. All they could feel was the soft warmth of each other’s bodies, and one another’s breath on their skin.

Snow White’s eyes welled up as a familiar ache began to swell inside her chest—but the pain was bittersweet. And it was only bitter because of how much time she and Florian had been forced to spend apart, longing for each other in secret...as well as all the trauma they’d had to endure before reuniting, so that they could transcend the agony and become the best versions of themselves. They were diamonds that had formed under unfathomable pressure. Indescribable pain. Terror and confusion. Grief and self-hatred. Long years spent burying their feelings to try and stamp them out.

Though the pain lingered, the worst was behind them. They were now free to love each other openly. It was a liberating feeling—and the reason why they didn’t care how much noise they made, or how many people could hear them. They climaxed together, clinging to each other and repeatedly shouting each other’s names, as if to proclaim their love before the whole world. They would not hide anymore.

Tears flooded down Snow White’s flushed cheeks, as her body and mind synched up and she realized what had just happened: she had made love to Prince Florian. She had lain beneath him in a luxurious bed, crying out for him as much as he’d been crying out for her. There was no more need for secret daydreams or sneaking into the bathroom at night. She couldn’t believe how lucky she was.

Florian’s eyes also moistened as he regarded his princess. How many girls had he bedded, after which he’d told himself that the shallow satisfaction they’d delivered was enough for him? How had he gone this long without knowing how magical fornication could feel? How had he run from his true feelings for so many years, thereby putting himself—as well as Snow White—through so much unnecessary pain? What he had just experienced with her had surpassed every encounter he’d ever shared with a girl. Those couplings had only been sex. But he and Snow White had just made love.

It was enough to make his eyes spill over, too.

What if this is all I’m good for? whispered a voice in his mind. What if I can only please her body; but outside of the bedroom, all I’ll ever do is break her heart? What if I’m a talented lover, but a terrible person?

A profound sense of inadequacy threatened to suffocate the prince. He had to steel himself, so that he wouldn’t run from the room. No matter how scared he felt, he would never, ever run out on Snow White again.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” he asked her. Despite the look of pure adoration in her eyes, he worried that he hadn’t done enough.

“You mean—in bed?”

“I mean, is there anything else I can do to take your pain away. The pain I caused you. I just...want to make your life easier.”

“Love me.”

“I do love you.”

“That’s all I need you to do. Just love me, and be faithful to me.”

“I will always be faithful to you.”

“Then it’s enough.”

Florian disagreed, but he hoped that a proper night’s rest would calm his fears. He pulled Snow White into his arms and drifted off while praying that one day, he would deserve her.

Chapter Text

“I wish someone would have informed me that I was to dine alone last night.”

King Frederick gave the couple a knowing, teasing glance as they traipsed into the dining room the next morning. The sounds emanating from Snow White’s bedroom had alerted the King—and the whole castle—to what his son and the princess had been doing the previous evening, in place of eating supper.

Ordinarily, the King would have lectured Florian about impropriety. Dalliances were one thing; but proper courting required decorum as much as any other form of socializing. However, exigent circumstances had preceded this coupling. Frederick decided to grant his son some leeway. As long as the boy would keep forthcoming bedroom noise to a minimum.

Breakfast was a quiet affair. Each party was deep in thought and did not want to be disturbed. Frederick was both put off by his son and also proud of him, for finally acting on his long-buried feelings for Snow White. The princess, in turn, was still processing her outing with Florian—who had snuck back to his own chambers to fetch himself a fresh set of clothes, before she’d even gotten out of bed that morning. She’d found his creeping around rather adorable. And the prince, for his part, was feeling a bit better. He still hated himself; but he had to admit that Snow White’s undying love was starting to smooth over his sharpest edges. While he resolved to never stop trying to make up for all the damage he’d inflicted, he conceded that it might be time to relax a little. Perhaps he did deserve some enjoyment in life. Not as much as Snow White did, though.

“I assume you’d like to spend some time outdoors now?” he asked her, once they’d finished their meal. She nodded.

“Why don’t you take her to the fountain by the pond,” Frederick suggested. “I don’t think we’ve shown her that part of the property yet.”

“That sounds lovely,” the princess replied. “I’ve always loved gazing into ponds, and watching the ducks and fish that live in there. They’re so peaceful.”

“Indeed. It’s a nice, quiet spot to unwind.” Florian held out his elbow for Snow White. “Shall we?”

*   *   *

Prince and princess sat on the grass in companionable silence, gazing out across the pond. The sound of the fountain behind them calmed their nerves. Ducks provided entertainment as they dove for fish and chased each other around in the water. Florian did not echo Snow White’s laughter—as happy as he was about the previous evening’s activities, his demons weighed heavily on his mind. He deliberated whether or not to reveal them.

After about half an hour, he squeezed her hand. “Snow White, there’s something I’d like to share with you.”

“What is it?”

“How...my mother died.”

“Oh, Florian! You don’t have to tell me that. It must have been so traumatic—”

“No, I need to. I think it will help you better understand why I behaved as despicably as I did, in the past.”

Snow White inhaled shakily. “Oh. Well...all right, then.”

“First, I should tell you why my father is so strict about maintaining diplomacy with other kingdoms—while also minding his own business as much as he can. Do you recall what I told you, when we met: that I was under stringent orders from him, to never agitate Grimhilde?”

“Of course I remember. I’d thought that that had just been an excuse for you to avoid me, though.”

“It was. On the surface. But I didn’t have the courage to tell you the full story. The truth is...my mother and Grimhilde grew up together. Even as a child, Grimhilde was petty and jealous. She was the youngest of three—and an accident. And her parents never let her forget it. She was intelligent and beautiful; but she could never satisfy her parents because her mere existence was an inconvenience to them. They had only wanted two children.

“She grew up believing that the world was against her, to the point that she became entitled. Anytime something didn’t go her way, she would throw a tantrum and demand recompense—even if no one had actually harmed her, or attempted to harm her. Her temper would flare over something as innocuous as stubbing her toe. As a result, she had few friends. She attended lessons with the other royal children from neighboring kingdoms, but she was the only one who was never invited anywhere.

“My mother, Princess Kendra, was rather naïve as a child, and she tried her hardest to see the best in everyone, no matter how badly they behaved.”

“I feel personally called out.”

Florian chuckled. “I...do have to agree with you there, my love. Anyway, my mother believed that even people like Grimhilde deserved a chance. Or multiple chances. She pitied Grimhilde for her shoddy lot in life. She went out of her way to befriend your stepmother—who only used my mother’s kindness to her advantage. They spent time together at court, getting to know each other as much as all the other royal children were doing. Everyone could see how much Grimhilde was feigning her affection toward Kendra, in order to learn her deepest secrets and then spread the appropriate rumors to humiliate her.”

“That is awful! Did anyone ever stop her?”

“No. Kendra never spoke up. She insisted that the rumors must have originated with someone other than Grimhilde, because she needed to believe that her charitable nature had rubbed off on her aggrieved best friend. Also, it was still only petty behavior at that point, and so most people chose to look the other way. It was easier for them to ignore the problem, rather than address it without concrete proof of what was going on.”

“That sounds...eerily familiar.”

“Doesn’t it just. Again, I apologize for acting that way myself, with you. Even though my evasive behavior wasn’t on par with my mother’s social circle dismissing Grimhilde’s maliciousness, it still eats me up inside that I traumatized you so much, by keeping silent and running away when I should have addressed the issue of our—”

“I know. And I keep telling you that beating yourself up won’t change what happened between us when we were younger. All we can do, as flawed humans, is work to better ourselves more and more every day. And you’ve been doing a fine job of that, as I’ve been saying since you rescued me from Hook.”

The prince smiled sheepishly. “I try. I just—”

“All right, that’s enough wallowing. Back to Grimhilde and your mother. I assume things escalated eventually?”

“Yes. When the girls came of age and began looking for husbands, it got ugly. They both desired my father. And when he chose my mother, Grimhilde showed her true colors.”

“Oh no! What happened?”

“She struck my mother across the face and vowed revenge, ranting and raving about how Kendra had supposedly always flaunted all the things that Grimhilde, herself, had lacked: popularity, more beauty, a loving family, and her first choice of a husband. She called my mother a whore and accused her of having tricked my father into proposing to her. She even tried to steal the engagement ring. She grabbed the band right off of my mother’s finger and tried to make off with it.”

Snow White gasped.

“She was cast out of court for that. No one could dispute her malevolence after that stunt. The only person who ever took pity on her was...King Bradley.”

“My father?!”

“Yes. He, too, had a soft spot for outcasts, and he wanted to find out what had made Grimhilde become the way she was. Having been crowned King at the age of eighteen, upon the death of his father, everyone knew that he was under tremendous pressure and feeling terribly isolated, despite having friends at court. Later on, after he lost his first wife in childbirth and struggled to care for his baby daughter—you—he became desperate to find a new mate. Grimhilde found his attention flattering, and I’m sure his presence did comfort her, but he had not been her first choice. Everyone—except him—knew that she’d never stopped coveting my father.

“As you most assuredly know, Grimhilde became even more ruthless after Bradley’s death. While his passing from an illness was a tragedy, she wielded it as a weapon, in order to show everyone how much of a victim she really was—a victim who was entitled to strike back at her aggressors, real or imagined. Over and over.

“One day, about seven years ago, my mother received a letter from Grimhilde, inviting her over for tea. Grimhilde claimed to have seen the error in her ways, and she was supposedly offering my mother an olive branch. I didn’t believe it. Neither did my father. We both begged her to ignore the invitation, but she wouldn’t hear of it. We only realized something had gone wrong when she did not return home that night.”

“Oh no! Was that when she—”

“One of our guards happens to be a soldier who defected from Grimhilde’s kingdom, upon witnessing the crime. He came to us a week later—after his conscience had been eating at him until he couldn’t stand the pressure—and he told us the awful tale.”

“And what...what had he seen?”

“Grimhilde had put something in my mother’s tea—not to poison her, but to make her relax. Since my mother did not drink alcohol, Grimhilde had to use other methods to make her more...pliant. She then fed my mother false words of repentance, to further encourage her to drop her guard. It worked.”

The princess gripped her skirt and grimaced.

“After they had tea, Grimhilde pushed my mother to the floor. She then straddled her and held a knife to her eye socket, and forced her to perform oral sex. Multiple times. Once she was satisfied, she ordered three of her guards to gangrape and murder my mother, right there in the middle of the room. She had three...openings, if you will—so you can imagine what those guards did to her, right before slitting her throat. All because she’d been luckier in life than Grimhilde.”

“Oh my god! Florian, that’s—that’s...I’m sorry, but I simply cannot find words.” Snow White began to cry.

“Neither could we, when we heard the news. The guard who defected had left his post to relieve himself, and he’d stumbled upon the scene on his way back. Thankfully, Grimhilde had not noticed—which was why, when he came to our kingdom, she assumed that he’d only gone missing. As far as we know, she never gave his disappearance much thought; he wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near the tearoom that day.”

Snow White wiped her eyes and sat with Florian’s revelation for a few minutes, before finding herself able to respond.

“Not only am I horrified by your mother’s fate,” she began, “but I am also flabbergasted that Grimhilde’s guard made a point to tell you and your father the gory details! You, especially. You were, what, fourteen?! No child should have to hear about a crime like that—and certainly not such a crime committed against their own mother! There is NO reason to subject a child to such trauma.”

“Yes, I was fourteen. To his credit, though, the guard didn’t tell me directly. My father shooed me out into the hall when the distressed guard entered the throne room, needing to tell the story of what he had witnessed. But I was a foolish boy, and I eavesdropped. I couldn’t help myself. And I have regretted that act of disobedience ever since. To this day, my father still doesn’t know that I heard the guard’s entire admission. I’ll probably never tell him.”

“That makes...so much sense. I understand now, why you were petrified of getting close to me.”

“But it’s not an excuse,” Florian replied firmly. “I tell you this not to justify my transgressions, but to share my past with you, so that you can grasp my motivations for having behaved so terribly. I just want to give you closure and peace of mind. Murdered mother or not, I could have still saved you. I could have still whisked you away to my kingdom on the very day we met, and Grimhilde would never have known what had happened. I chose not to.”

“Florian—”

“Don’t, Snow White. Don’t defend me. I don’t deserve it. I was a spineless coward. And I...I needed to get all of that off my chest. You had a right to know that this was why I pussyfooted around you for years; it wasn’t only that I hadn’t addressed my grief properly, as my father told me after I found Grimhilde’s body. The issue was so much deeper than that.”

His tone startled her. The normally gentle and softspoken prince had become a hardened, brooding statue, frozen in place. When she reached out to touch his arm, he flinched.

“Are you...pushing me away again? Florian, please—”

“I don’t deserve you. And I don’t know what to do with the fact that you disagree. You’re too kind to me.”

Snow White went rigid. Her eyes moistened. “Am I about to lose you once more?”

“Would you like to?”

“No! Are you out of your mind? You honestly believe that, after going through all the hell we had to endure to get here, I’d be content to have our relationship disintegrate? I’d almost rather die.”

The prince scoffed.

“I thought we’d worked through all of this, starting back in Neverland! And then, last night....” She trailed off, unable to continue speaking; a lump had formed in her throat. She couldn’t feel her face.

He touched her knee. And then he hesitated, looking like he wanted to do more, but he was holding back.“You’re begging me to give up on you,” she whispered.

“I might be. I don’t think I’ll ever be good enough for you. I don’t have the courage to accept the fate I deserve, unless you agree to leave me to it.”

“And what fate do you deserve?!”

“To be alone.”

“Florian! Two wishing wells told us that we’re life partners. You insisted that those devices were foolproof. And then your father told us that we probably are spiritually wedded. What was that for, if you’re going to try and take it all back?”

“I’m not trying to take anything back. I want to be with you. I’m just—I’m really having a hard time right now. I keep going back and forth between wanting to bask in the joy of your company, and wanting to retreat. And I’m not sure if it’s cowardice, or if I just truly know that you deserve better than me. I’m too damaged.”

“We’re both damaged, my love.”

“But it’s not the same. You’re damaged because of terrible things that were done to you. You were the victim. I’m damaged because of things I should have done, and the despicable way I’ve handled the repercussions of my inaction. I was not the victim.”

“Yes, you were. You were one of the victims left behind, after your mother’s murder. I think you’ve lost sight of that.”

“But then I had a chance to be better, and I blew it.”

“That is correct. Then you had another chance, and you did do better. That I’m here is proof of that. Florian, you risked your life to save me from Captain Hook. Does that not count, in your mind? Is that not atonement enough?”

“I don’t know if I could ever atone enough.”

“What did you just tell me, about your mother? What did she say, as a girl, when she tried to befriend Grimhilde?”

“That everyone deserves a chance.”

Snow White stared pointedly at Florian. “That includes you, dear.”

He chuckled sardonically; but his knitted eyebrows and stiff jaw showed that he didn’t agree.

“Would you like to know what I think?”

“Always.” He absentmindedly tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

“I think that forgiving yourself would be the most optimal way to honor your mother’s memory. She would not have wanted you to spend the rest of your life making yourself miserable and pushing away people who love you, knowing how much you’re hurting them, but doing it anyway—”

“Snow White—”

“—and then punishing yourself over and over, before anyone else has a chance to punish you first.”

“But—”

“I’m not done.” The princess held up her hand. “You are Kendra’s legacy, Florian. You are all that’s left of her. If you live according to her most important values, you will be keeping her alive. You will be acting in the way she’d always strove to act. You will be keeping alive her memory, as well as her greatest contribution to the world: her compassion. Her kindness to others. You have that inside of you, whether you realize it or not. She lives in you. Let the world see that, through your actions—toward other people and toward yourself. You deserve compassion as much as anyone else.”

Florian hunched over and pinched the bridge of his nose. He remained in that position for a while. When his shoulders began trembling, Snow White moved behind his back, wrapped her arms around him, and rested her chin in the crook of his neck.

“You’re a better man than you know,” she soothed. “I love you, Florian. And I am never, ever giving up on you.”

He whimpered, though he tried to muffle the sound behind his hand. Snow White said nothing. She simply held him as he wept.

Several minutes passed before he collected himself. The princess waited until he’d gently plied her arms off of him, to signal that he was ready to face her again. She returned to her spot next to him on the grass.

“What are you thinking?” she asked him.

“You’re the best of me.”

The corners of her mouth tugged upward a bit. “You know, your father was right.”

“About what?”

“About our...energies. I’m really seeing that now, and it’s equally fascinating and heartbreaking.”

“What was that in reference to? Sorry, my mind is a bit scrambled at the moment.”

“That’s all right,” she chuckled. “He said that you and I are opposite sides of the same coin. It was after I’d confessed to not knowing how to go easy on myself. You then confessed to having had the opposite problem, until recently.”

“Ah, yes. He did say that.”

“I think we should talk about this concept more often. It may help alleviate or prevent future arguments.”

“I agree. At the same time...would you mind if we spent a few days apart? I appreciate that you just comforted me, but this is a lot to dissect. You brought up some issues that I hadn’t even remotely considered before, and I am feeling rather overwhelmed.”

Snow White looked crestfallen, but Florian assured her that he was not pushing her away; he really did just need some time to himself. He wanted to tackle his issues head-on, instead of running from them, and mulling everything over alone would be the best way for him to start.

After a promise to come and see her when he’d sorted everything out, he pecked her on the lips and walked her back to the castle.

Chapter Text

Florian had been deadly serious about spending time on his own. Not even Frederick saw him. The prince had directed the servants to leave his meals outside his bedchamber until further notice, and he waited until their footfalls had died down before opening his door to pick up the steaming trays of food.

Everyone was accustomed to his brooding spells; but this one was alarming because it was his first since he’d rescued Snow White—and because it was his last outing with her that had motivated him to retreat into himself. The servants whispered to each other, speculating on the stability of this new relationship and how long it may take for the prince to show his face again.

He knocked on Snow White’s bedroom door five days later.

A jolt of anticipation pierced her heart. She scrambled off her bed, ran her fingers through her hair, and smoothed over her dress. She’d only been napping for ten minutes, but she worried that she now looked a little too ruffled.

Is that Florian?? Is he all right? Is he upset with me? Are my cheeks too flushed? Why do I suddenly care so much about my appearance? Will we have a productive conversation, or will he push me away again? Will I look too eager if I smile too widely at the sight of him?

The questions tore through her mind as she hurried toward the door and closed her fingers around the cold brass knob. She made a point to breathe slowly and deeply, so as not to appear too flustered.

His arms were around her as soon as she opened the door. He walked her backwards, kicked the door closed, and began kissing her fiercely. Though she’d wanted to talk before engaging in physical activity, she couldn’t deny that she had also longed for Florian’s embrace as much as the sound of his voice.

They kissed silently for several minutes, gripping each other tightly. Neither wanted to be the first to pull away.

“I missed you,” he murmured into her neck.

“I missed you, too.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his forehead. “Would you like to sit down?”

“As long as you’ll sit next to me,” he replied with a coy smile.

They settled on the couch by the window, and Florian draped his arm around Snow White’s shoulders.

“How do you feel about what happened last week?” she asked. “I’ve been trying not to worry myself silly about the stability of our courtship.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I was simply...so stunned by your level of insight, I needed to take a step back and wrap my head around it all. Rather like how you can’t focus or find words when you’re in the midst of a huge change.”

“I’ve noticed that—and the more I’ve thought about it, the more I’ve realized it made perfect sense that you needed a breather after our conversation by the pond. I was still anxious about our partnership, but I could recognize that my fears were likely unfounded. When we were visiting in secret, you always had to retreat after I pushed you too far outside your level of comfort.”

“That was immaturity, love. That doesn’t apply here.”

“Actually, I think it does. If you need to withdraw into yourself to process information, that’s...just a part of who you are. What matters is how you communicate your needs. For example, you stated plainly last week that you’d require lots of time alone, and why. Of course I was upset and worried, given our history, but you were true to your word this time. You took the pause that you needed, and then came back to me when you were ready. There was nothing immature about that. I may not have liked it, but I couldn’t change it.”

Florian’s face fell. “It upsets you, then? That I require time alone after difficult moments?”

“Right now, yes. Because I have no idea when I’ll see you next, in what way you’ll be thinking of me, or what our future interactions will be like. But this seems to be a central part of your personality, like I just said, which means that I’ll have to accept it. And I’m sure you don’t like that I often lose focus when I am overwhelmed. I may be there with you physically; but not mentally, until I am able to gather my thoughts.”

“It only concerns me because it makes me feel powerless. If you’re not really there, and I can’t do anything to soothe you, it feels like you’re trying to pull away from me, in your mind. And I worry that I am...inadequate, as a partner.”

“You’re not. Don’t worry.” Snow White chuckled as an interesting concept occurred to her. “You know, your father’s observation is ringing true again.”

“How so?”

“When it comes to coping with overwhelm, neither of us likes the other’s reaction, even though our differing responses come from the same core mechanism: the need to retreat. We just do it in dissimilar ways. You physically retreat away from others; while I retreat into my mind, unable to register my surroundings. So, on one hand, we are exactly the same. We’re perfect mirrors. And on the other hand, we’re opposing polarities of the same force. I find it quite intriguing.”

“As do I. I’ve never experienced this type of dynamic before.”

“Neither have I. How do you propose we navigate this?”

“One day at a time. And as for the moments of overwhelm: I may need more processing time than you—at least, more processing time in which to be alone. Will you be amenable to giving me that time, should this happen in the future?”

“On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“When you’re ready to talk again, you will have to kiss me the way you did a moment ago.”

“I’ll kiss you like that anytime you like,” he purred, and pulled her onto his lap. They locked lips again. And again. And again. Neither of them could get enough.

“Your insight continues to amaze me,” he remarked, when they finally pulled apart. “How were you able to become so observant; so adept at dissecting people’s psychology?”

“That was the only way I could survive living with Grimhilde. I had to anticipate her moods and her desires at the drop of a hat, in order to avoid trouble. And then with Hook, it was more of the same. I spent so much time doing virtually nothing while trapped in his cottage, it forced me to turn inward even more.”

Florian winced.

“I was determined to discover why he behaved in certain ways—and why I reacted as I did. Granted, I was lying to myself an awful lot; but I always knew the truth, deep down. I’m glad I was able to access it eventually, as I began to mentally extricate myself from his clutches.”

The prince gripped her harder, as if his hold on her could turn back time and prevent Hook from kidnapping her. She leaned forward and rested her cheek against his. They sat that way in silence for a long time.

“I’m sorry I didn’t save you sooner,” he said.

“I know. But...we couldn’t have had a conversation like this, two years ago.”

“Definitely not. I was still a cowardly little boy.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she chuckled. “I meant that we weren’t self-aware enough.”

Florian agreed.

The more they talked, the more they realized that—cowardice or not—they couldn’t possibly have begun their relationship any earlier. They’d needed to grow on their own, without leaning on each other as a crutch throughout the process. They’d needed to mature spiritually as well as emotionally. They had activated each other too much when they’d first met, because they’d mirrored each other so closely: sometimes in perfect tandem, and other times as opposing polarities.

And now, they would be balancing each other further, as evidenced by the scene a few days prior: Snow White would have to trust her instincts in her observations of Florian; and he would have to make sure he didn’t push her away out of self-hatred.

They would be working on this issue for some time.

They also had to acknowledge the blessing in disguise that had been their separation, as agonizing as it had been: the universe had kept them apart so that they could heal, and then reunite as the best versions of themselves. Had Snow White not been abducted, Florian would never have had that life-altering conversation with his father, after discovering Grimhilde’s corpse—since Hook would not have killed the Queen, in an attempt to win Snow White’s love. Florian would never have matured enough to summon the courage to face his failures, work through his grief over his mother’s murder, and then act on his feelings for Snow White. And had Snow White never met Tinker Bell, in their shared captivity, she never would have learned to love herself.

So, ironically, Hook’s actions had manifested the very thing he had feared: if not for his capture of Snow White, she and Florian would never have gotten together.

Prince and princess were now better-equipped to help each other grow even more. The worst was behind them, at last.

While they knew that they had to go through the proper motions of building a relationship—tweaking their approach to conflict resolution, cultivating emotional intimacy, and working through stressful situations—they were becoming so attuned to each other, these new waters were easier to navigate with their mutual support. Wishing well or no wishing well, Snow White and Florian were determined to rebuild their lives side-by-side. And it helped a great deal that they intuitively understood each other’s ins and outs.

“You really are my other half,” he declared, a few hours later. “The other half of my soul. You do...fill the missing space in my heart.”

“I like the sound of that,” she sighed. “And in this moment, the other half of your soul would like to make you feel thoroughly worshipped.”

“Oh?”

The princess had been deliberating for the past couple of days, over what she was about to do. She still felt a bit unsure of herself in the bedroom; but there was something about Florian that was inspiring her to embrace this once-hidden part of herself...which had never been allowed to breathe until recently.

Now that she’d gotten a taste of that—while screaming Florian’s name, no less—she wanted to push herself a little, and see how it would feel to initiate such behavior.

She climbed off of the prince’s lap and knelt at his feet. Taking a deep breath, she gingerly reached out and began unbuckling his belt.

Florian gasped. And...stiffened. Immediately. There was a visible tent in his trousers.

“Snow White, you don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

“Are you sure? If it’s too soon for you—”

“It’s not. I’ve been thinking about this for a while.”

The prince chuckled in spite of himself, and parted his thighs to allow room for her.

“Just relax,” she whispered—noting the subtle trepidation on his face—and unzipped him. The reverent look in her eyes reassured him enough to soften his features. And intensify his arousal.

She took a moment to admire his length, already rock-hard and aching for her touch. No longer believing Hook’s lies, she knew that she was not a selfish lover—if she were, she would not have been dying to do this to Florian for days, without any indication from him that he wanted it. She would not have touched herself at night, thinking about the way his hips would move, and the sounds he would make, as she satisfied him.

Since they’d reunited, he had been singularly concerned with pleasing her, in and out of the bedroom; he was determined to make her life as enjoyable as possible, after having caused her so much pain.

And because she truly loved him, with no strings attached, she wanted to return the gesture.

She reached out and trailed her fingers up and down the hard, smooth flesh, paying particular attention to the tip—which had just begun weeping. Florian’s hips jerked when she licked the bead of fluid. Noting his strong response, she let her lips hover on the tip, bestowing soft, lingering kisses.

She was barely doing anything, and yet his thighs were shaking. Excitement and relief filled her—he was reacting to her as fervently as she’d always reacted to him. Perhaps her attraction to him was not over the top, after all. Not if he felt the same way about her.

He groaned as she trailed more slow, soft kisses up and down the quivering muscle. It surprised and delighted her how excited she was becoming as well; this did not feel like an obligation. She did not feel pressure to prove her worth as a partner, or her willingness to think about others instead of herself. All she felt was burning desire for the magnificent, beautiful man seated before her.

She considered teasing him a while longer, but found that she, herself, could no longer wait for the main event. Hollowing her cheeks, she began sucking him with abandon, moaning as he twitched in her mouth. The salty-sweet fluid leaking from the slit was a delightful bonus. She couldn’t stop herself from grabbing at his hips, his thighs, his testicles—anything within reach, she wanted to touch. Needed to touch. His moans only urged her on. She bobbed up and down faster, and then gripped the base of him while rapidly sucking on the tip. He particularly enjoyed that. His hands clutched the back of her head even tighter.

When the organ began to pulse between her lips, she bore down and took as much of him into her mouth as she could—her gag reflex was too powerful to have him slam the back of her throat, but she was making up for it in other ways. His loud moans, quivering thighs, and cries of her name showed her that she was worshipping him properly. And when he spilled himself inside her mouth, she felt nothing but satisfaction.

He wasn’t done, though. After regaining his composure, he felt compelled to throw her on the bed and make her feel thoroughly worshipped.

*   *   *

Three months passed. Once Snow White had shown signs of being properly socialized, she began accompanying Florian and Frederick to meetings with diplomats and other royals from nearby kingdoms. She also started singing again, for the first time since Hook’s death. She refused to go anywhere near a piano; but she had loved singing from the time she’d been a small girl. That was one glimmer of joy that the pirate had not taken from her.

Her singing voice was fragile at first, from lack of use—as well as months of screaming, from her night terrors. But she eventually grew strong enough to harmonize with Florian, to the delight of everyone in the castle. Her ethereal soprano and his rich baritone melded like swirls of chocolate and vanilla dancing around each other; distinctly separate and yet dissolving into a perfectly balanced blend of flavors.

Like her beloved, the princess had a gift for songwriting as well as singing. He encouraged her to take the discipline more seriously; he even insisted that the castle scribe notate her compositions. The piles of parchment grew steadily...and within weeks, the couple began writing music together. When the time was right, they would perform for guests, and travel to other kingdoms to entertain at parties.

Snow White and Florian also navigated many upsets as their relationship progressed—namely, her traumatic flashbacks and his insistence on punishing himself. He retreated into his room every few weeks; but their subsequent conversations always deepened their bond. They came to understand each other more thoroughly. They figured out how to lean on each other when one of them was struggling...and they stumbled when they were both having a rough time of it. But at the end of the day, they were passionately in love and committed to growing as a unit. That was all that mattered. (And at long last, King Frederick allowed Snow White to begin sleeping in Florian’s bedroom.)

Frederick wasn’t the only person thinking more seriously about the young couple’s courtship.

As father and son had discussed, two wishing wells had confirmed Florian’s destiny with Snow White: they were life partners. And the prince thought it was high time to make that fact official. They hadn’t been together for very long, and so such a monumental announcement would normally be frowned upon, but theirs were extenuating circumstances. The terrible truth of Snow White’s ordeal had long since spread throughout the kingdom—along with Florian’s daring rescue, and their mutual pining of four years. They’d been through enough. They’d been forced to wait long enough.

The prince knew that no one would judge him for what he was about to do.

After a lovely stroll through the castle gardens, Florian escorted Snow White back to their bedchamber, dropped to one knee, and produced a small black velvet box. Her hands flew to her gaping mouth.

“Princess Snow White,” he proclaimed, “I love you more and more every day. You have impacted me in ways that I am still struggling to articulate in words. You inspire me to be a better man. I still don’t believe that I deserve your love; but I will continue trying to become worthy of you, for as long as it takes. Nothing would make me happier than to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you do me the extraordinary honor of being my wife? Will you marry me?”

Chapter Text

Snow White stood behind the gold-framed double doors, clutching her bouquet of red roses. The flowers looked a bit darker, under the subtle shadow of her veil, but she barely noticed. She was too busy worrying about fainting from the nervous excitement coursing through her.

She’d never thought this day would come. After years spent questioning her sanity, and an agonizing period as the captive of a maniacal pirate, she couldn’t believe that she was in charge of her own life. She could move about as she wished, speak her mind, express her needs...and marry the man she’d always loved.

Florian had barely finished delivering his proposal when she had cried out, “YES!!” and dropped to the floor with him. Tears had spilled down her cheeks as he’d placed his mother’s engagement ring on her finger—a platinum band with six tiny diamonds embedded on either side of the gemstones. The center boasted a square-cut ruby encrusted with diamonds, and flanked by two square-cut obsidian stones. The obsidian had recently taken the place of more rubies; Florian had wanted to give the ring a unique flair for Snow White, whose striking ebony hair was one of her most distinguishing features. The King’s jeweler had been more than happy to assist.

And the servants had been more than happy to help Snow White look her best, on the happiest day of her life.

Her white gown shimmered with rhinestones, from the top of the bodice to the bottom of the flowing skirt. Puffed sleeves billowed around her shoulders, and then narrowed to a point just above her wrists. Her nails were manicured in the French style. Her soft, wavy hair, now down to her waist, rested against her bare back and provided a soothing sensation against her skin. Plain white high heels adorned her small feet—just high enough to be elegant, but not too high to be uncomfortable. She wasn’t interested in gaudiness. As always, she stood with grace and poise.

She looked every bit the princess she was—one day to become Queen.

Are you ready? asked the little voice hovering next to her.

“Yes,” she whispered. “And thank you for insisting on walking—well, floating me down the aisle. I would never have considered asking you to do this. It means so much to me, Tinker Bell.”

You’re welcome, my friend. You should have seen how excited Peter was, when he received the invitation. He was about as elated as those dwarfs were, when we found their cottage and told them that you were safe with Florian. We’d been wondering if you and your prince had forgotten about us!

“I am almost offended!” Snow White gasped in mock outrage. “I’ve thought about you almost every day since my rescue. It just so happened that, for a while, Florian and I were too wrapped up in each other to entertain friends.”

Say no more. I can easily picture it.

“I’m sure you can. Now, about the dwarfs—you said that they’d wanted to come to the wedding, but the portal had given them trouble?” 

Yes. I don’t know if it only works for humans—and fairies, of course—but they physically could not withstand being within a meter of the spiderweb. It made them very sad; but they took comfort in the fact that Peter and I promised to pass on the message to you and Florian, so that you’d know they hadn’t ignored your invitation.

“I’m sorry to hear that. But I’m glad they listened to their bodies and backed away from the portal. The last thing I’d ever want would be for other people to suffer on my behalf.”

Too sweet as always, you are. It still amazes me that, after all you’ve been through, you never stop caring about everyone else’s needs and feelings.

“Well, I think it’s important to always consider our impact on others, no matter what we’re going through. We all have problems; but if we get too caught up in them and disregard those around us, we’ll end up hurting each other all the more, by giving in to our negative feelings instead of transmuting them. I firmly believe that that behavior is the root cause of most of the suffering in the world. Being positive, and showing respect to everyone I encounter, is how I work to counterbalance all that pain.”

Tinker Bell wiped her eyes. That’s very true. You really are such a force of good in the world.

“I try to be. And thank you for giving us the dwarfs’ message. We appreciate it.” 

Anytime! But I think we should pause this chat until later; it’s almost time! King Frederick looks like he’s in position, next to Florian.

When the doors opened, the audience gasped. Every eye was glued to the exquisite figure gliding down the aisle with her head held high. Some smiled, some stared in awe, some cried with joy. Regardless, everyone knew the gallant young maiden’s history—and how, through it all, she’d retained her pure heart, after surviving hardships most people couldn’t even stomach hearing about, much less experiencing firsthand. And the glittery pixie floating next to her only accentuated her radiance.

Some had expressed jealousy. How could such a traumatized person have a positive attitude and a kind word for everyone? Especially someone so young. Theoretically, she should have been far less mature and put-together, given her age and the severity of her ordeal.

Of course, none of them knew about the nightmares, the fainting spells, the dissociation, or the moments when the princess cried herself to sleep in Florian’s arms. They didn’t see the gnarled scar above her left hip, from when the captain had dug in his hook as a last-ditch attempt to keep her hostage as Florian was carrying her away from The Jolly Roger. They only saw her at her best, when she was projecting the appropriate persona befitting a royal lady.

But Snow White didn’t judge them. As she had risen in popularity, accompanying Florian to dances and banquets and diplomatic meetings, she’d never lost sight of her humble beginnings. She treated everyone with care, no matter how they perceived her, or what kind of day she was having. She greeted every ordinary citizen with a smile, a comforting word, and enough conversation to make them feel important.

Not many royals behaved this way, and it did not go unnoticed.

On this momentous day, the hall was packed with royals and civilians alike. Hundreds of people had flocked to King Frederick’s castle to witness the marriage of his only son. It wasn’t every day that a prince chose a bride! According to the papers, Prince Florian had chosen wisely.

Florian, for his part, still could not believe his luck. Less than a year after rescuing his beloved from the pits of Hell, he was watching her walk down the aisle toward the altar, where he waited eagerly. She looked so beautiful, it took all his self-control not to start crying. It wasn’t just her physical beauty, though—the goodness of her heart, and the degree of healing she had undertaken over the past several months, shone through on her dazzling face.

The smirking officiator gave the crowd time to get their excited murmurs out of their systems. He then called for a moment of silence to honor the memories of Queen Kendra and Snow White’s parents. There were a few sniffles.

“We are gathered here today,” he began, “to witness the union of Prince Florian and Princess Snow White in matrimony. As we all know, this couple endured a harrowing journey of loss, heartbreak, and trauma before the universe finally allowed them to come into union. Thus, their marriage is a triumph over adversity, as much as it is a celebration of divine love. I feel tremendous honor in presiding over this ceremony. Prince Florian, if you will proceed with your vows.”

Florian cleared his throat and withdrew a small piece of paper from his breast pocket.

“Snow White: I grow more and more in awe of you every day. Your presence has added a richness to my life that I didn’t know had been lacking. Loving you has forced me to confront parts of myself that I previously hadn’t wanted to acknowledge, and I am better for it. You have taught me so much about patience, kindness, tenacity, humor, and facing my fears. I admire your strength, your courage, your capacity for forgiveness—which I still don’t think I deserve—”

Several people giggled. Snow White was among them.

“—and how committed you are to healing, as well as to helping me heal. I marvel at your ability to see the beauty in almost everyone, no matter who they are, what they look like, or from whence they came. I am forever in your debt, and I consider it the greatest privilege to stand by your side as your husband. I vow to protect you, cherish you, and support you in every way possible, for as long as I shall live, no matter the circumstances. I vow to take every action necessary to atone for my past mistakes and improve myself. You are the best of me. I love you.”

The princess dabbed at her eyes. And she wasn’t alone—as she gazed out across the large crowd seated before her, she was struck by how many people were also touched by Florian’s words. His love for her. His dedication to personal growth, as well as their mutual growth in partnership. The sacred and miraculous phenomenon that was their marriage.

Some small part of her was still afraid to believe that all of this was real. She hoped that the disbelief would fade eventually; it had no place in her life anymore. She knew that she was of sound mind.

“And now, we he hear from Princess Snow White!” said the officiator.

She withdrew her own vows from one of her sleeves.

“Florian: on the day we met, I knew you were the one for me. I have loved you from the first moment we locked eyes. I didn’t know it consciously until a few years later; but you stirred something inside me that first day, which I’ve never been able to release. Long before we became a couple, you unknowingly taught me so much about trusting my heart and my instincts, honoring and expressing my feelings, and understanding my worth as a person—regardless of how other people may treat me. Sometimes I still worry that my good fortune will soon slip through my fingers, given how much more accustomed I am to suffering, but I am committed to overcoming this fear.

“As your wife, I vow to honor and defend you, to care for you, to support you during difficult times, and to remind you of your worth whenever you forget. I vow to make you smile, to make you laugh...and to make you think. Life is a continuous journey of learning, and I am so excited that we will be on this never-ending path together, supporting each other every step of the way. You...you fill the missing space in my heart.”

After hearing such a profound speech, even the officiator was crying. He wasn’t privy to the significance of that last sentence, but he felt the energy behind the bride’s words. And when he pronounced Florian and Snow White husband and wife, the ensuing cheers were deafening.

*   *   *

“I’m so glad you came!” Snow White exclaimed, enveloping Little Feather in a hug.

“We would not have missed this joyous event for anything,” insisted Samoset.

“I daresay we all saw this on the horizon, even before you were ready to do so,” added Chief Gomo.

Snow White and Florian both grinned sheepishly.

The Algonquins’ presence was bittersweet. Everyone had been hoping to see more of them in attendance—but alas, the battle aboard The Jolly Roger had severely dwindled their numbers. Even after Peter and Florian had extricated Snow White from Hook’s clutches, and killed the ruthless captain, the Native Americans had decided to continue fighting. They hadn’t only been aiming to rescue the princess, as they now reminded her—they’d wanted to avenge their loved ones lost in the pirates’ prior attack on the encampment.

The ten remaining buccaneers may have lost in the end—and then fled Neverland—but the Algonquins had not left the ship unscathed. They had retreated with sixty warriors. Less than half of their original count, at the beginning of the scuffle. Just like in the previous skirmish with the pirates, everyone who’d remained on land had lost at least one friend or family member.

No one had smiled at the victory.

The Algonquins’ only solace was in the fact their survivor count far outnumbered that of the pirates; it was likely that no one in Neverland would ever try to harm the tribe again. It was no small feat, to have intimidated the pirates into fleeing the island after they’d stubbornly remained for years, terrorizing anyone who’d come near their ship.

Snow White nearly broke down upon hearing such devastating news. Of course she was relieved that the pirates had mostly been killed off—goodness gracious, what kind of person had she become, wishing people dead?!—but the loss of so many Algonquins should not have been the price. They had been through enough already. And while they insisted it wasn’t her fault that dozens of them had perished—they’d been meaning to strike against Hook for a long time, even before he’d kidnapped her from their territory—she still felt terribly guilty. No amount of reassurances or well wishes alleviated the feeling.

Peter Pan attempted to make Snow White feel better. After hugging her, he reminded the princess that he normally hated adults, but he was making an exception for her because she’d freed Tinker Bell. And then he flew up into the air and did a few forward rolls by the ceiling, to try and make her laugh.

Many guests eyed him strangely for that stunt—especially when he nearly kicked the crystal chandelier—but they didn’t want to get involved. They wouldn’t admit it, but Peter scared them a bit.

He didn’t care. He didn’t even notice. He was forever a child after all, in body and mind.

Tinker Bell spent the bulk of the evening perched on Snow White’s shoulder. While she found Peter’s antics entertaining, she could see that the princess was not as appreciative. Her smile was very clearly for show.

Are you all right?

“I’m doing as well as I can. I still feel like all of those deaths were at least partially my fault. If Hook had never kidnapped me—”

That was entirely HIS doing. Not yours. Please stop blaming yourself.

Snow White sighed. “I still struggle with that, as you can see.”

I certainly can. But I have a feeling that your new husband will be committed to helping you overcome that mindset.

Hearing the word husband, Snow White blushed before she could stop herself.

Her heart had been leading her down the correct path from the very beginning. Her love with Florian was real. His vows—vulnerable, self-effacing statements proclaimed in front of hundreds of people—were proof of this, as much as his everyday actions.

Florian had retreated into himself far less frequently over the past several months. Snow White had initially thought that wedding planning had been the cause; but even as the final details had come together, he had grown still more courageous and willing to discuss their issues in a timely fashion. Perhaps she was the best of him—or perhaps she had merely paved the way for him to become his best self.

He had done the same for her.

As Tinker Bell was now reminding her, other people’s actions were not her responsibility. She may have had many enviable traits, superficial and otherwise, but that did not mean she deserved to be mistreated. Jealous individuals were only projecting their own problems; Snow White had not taken anything from them. Being beautiful, optimistic, insightful, and musically gifted were not punishable offenses. They were blessings she had been born with, and so they were rightfully hers. She did not have to hide or diminish them in order to be a good person, or to convince people to treat her better.

“We now call Florian and Snow White to the floor, for the first dance as husband and wife!”

The princess was grateful for the announcement. She did love talking to Tinker Bell, but the fairy was sometimes a bit too forceful in her convictions. She still seemed to view Snow White as the helpless prisoner who was blaming herself for Captain Hook’s crimes. And while she was prone to this toxic thinking occasionally, as she’d just conceded to the fairy, it no longer defined her.

As she gazed into her husband’s loving eyes and took his hand for their first dance, another layer of her fears melted away. She was happy. She was in love. She was respected. She was safe. She was shining her light, without worrying about who might find the brightness offensive.

She was free.

She was free to live in a gorgeous castle, the way any princess should. She was free to eat and sleep and move about on her own terms, without deferring to anyone. She was free to acknowledge and express her love for Florian. And while her trauma reared its head from time to time, its intensity had begun to dwindle under the love and support she had been receiving since being rescued. The nightmares may never fully abate, and she may still struggle with her self-worth during trying moments, but there was no longer anyone holding her back to counteract their own shortcomings. Snow White was free to live her life, in accordance with her deepest desires—something she had never been able to do before.

It was now time to start.