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Rose returns from her first deployment with personal congratulations from King Cole and a haunted look in her eyes.
Snow knew she’d be different after experiencing war– the real thing, not the simulations they do at school. Papa has been trying to gently prepare her for it, talking more about what it was like the first time he was home, what Aunt Elizabeth said about it, how things changed. Snow isn’t stupid. She knows about combat trauma, how many veterans struggle to even function for the rest of their lives, what seeing and doing that kind of violence does to people. There’s a reason Snow wishes the entire organization of the army would just vanish. There’s a reason she’s against war.
Rose has already been different on their comms calls– withdrawn, snappish, with new shadows under her eyes like she isn’t sleeping well. Who knows what she’ll be like in person?
Snow tells herself she’s ready for anything. She just wants to hold her sister.
A few weeks into Rose’s leave, though, it’s clear that this is going to be even harder than Snow thought.
Rose won’t go anywhere without her gun. She tries to act like it’s just a precaution, seems to almost believe it, but she jumps at everything. On one occasion she nearly swings a fist at a housekeeper who quietly comes onto the balcony Rose and Snow are sitting on to water the plants there. Whenever they have guests over for dinner, Rose drinks a little too much wine. Tipsy, she’ll brag about her victories, her rank, how well her first deployment went. If she’s sober, she’ll change the subject whenever someone asks about it.
Every time Snow tries to talk to her, ask if she’s all right, what she’s so worried about all the time, Rose just shuts down or dodges the questions until she gives up.
Snow’s suspicions that she’s not sleeping well are confirmed– on three different occasions in two weeks, she wakes up in the morning to see Rose sleeping fitfully on the couch in her room. When she asks why, Rose just mutters something about checking on things and wanting to be there.
Snow tells her if she’s going to sleep in her room, she can share the bed. Rose just shrugs and asks if she wants breakfast.
She’s always tense. She’s always scanning the room like she’s looking for a bomb. She’s never happy– even when she’s laughing, there’s a tension in her eyes, a stiffness to her posture. Snow doesn’t know how to help her. She doesn’t know what to do.
In a fit of desperation, she finally asks Mum for a Friday off and books a weekend trip for herself and Rose. If she can’t get any rest or relaxation at home, maybe she’ll be able to do it on an Arielian island. It can’t hurt to enjoy some good food, cooler temperatures, and the sounds of the ocean.
Mum looks skeptical even as she gives Snow the day off. “Snow… don’t expect too much from this. Rose will appreciate the time with you, but it isn’t going to fix her.”
She barely keeps from rolling her eyes in exasperation. “I know, Mum. I just want her to be able to relax a little before she’s sent out again.”
Mum reaches for her hand, brows creased. “Don’t be surprised if she can’t,” she says gently. “She’s going to have to figure out how to deal with the last six months on her own time. All you can do is be there for her.”
Snow exhales. To some extent, she knows. She also knows that some part of her doesn’t believe it– that there’s a piece of her that feels that all Rose needs is her twin. It’s childish and irrational. She knows it won’t be that simple. But surely if anyone can help Rose, it’s Snow. Surely she can do something.
“She’s going to be all right, isn’t she? Papa eventually– he figured it out.” He can be moody, withdrawn. She knows he has nightmares. But he isn’t a mess like Rose is right now. He’s scarred, not bleeding out in front of her.
“He…” Mum looks away, seeming to deliberate. “He finds things easier than he used to. But there are things he struggles with in private. Things he’s tried to shield the two of you from.”
Her chest tightens as she takes this in. Part of her wants to ask, like what? She knows better than to do that. If he and Mum haven’t volunteered it, Snow has no business prying.
But still. What has been going on her entire life that she didn’t know about? Has Snow not noticed something? Should she have? How bad is it? She squeezes Mum’s hand, staring down at the ruby rug covering the dark wood floor.
“Is he all right?” she asks instead, much more muted.
“Yes.” Mum doesn’t hesitate. “You don’t need to worry about him, Snow. But some wounds just never heal fully. Rose will get better with time. But don’t compare her to what you can see of your father.” She squeezes Snow’s hand back. “Enjoy your trip. Rose misses you, too. Just know that it’s not going to make things like they used to be.”
…
Snow’s first mistake, perhaps, is surprising Rose. When they were teenagers, Rose got into all kinds of impulsive adventures. One of Snow’s favorite memories is the time Rose climbed out her dorm window in the middle of the night (she could have left via the door; it wouldn’t have been all that hard, but she claimed it wasn’t as fun), took a shuttle back to the Prince Manor, and showed up at Snow’s door with a decades-old bottle of wine stolen from the kitchens.
They’d ended up on the roof, for no real reason except that it felt hidden and rebellious, and passed the bottle between them until the satellites seemed to spin in the sky overhead. Snow doesn’t even remember half of what they talked about, but she remembers feeling warm and excited and ready to take on the entire galaxy. They’d stumbled back inside in the small hours of the morning, trying to be stealthy but failing miserably. When Snow, slightly more sober, fretted over getting in trouble, Rose had just grinned and said not to worry. She did this all the time.
But now, when Snow knocks on the door to Rose’s room and presents an itinerary which spans tomorrow morning to Sunday evening, Rose goes still.
Still hovering in the doorway, she peers at Snow’s comms, face unreadable. Anxiety flutters in Snow’s stomach. She planned everything so that Rose would enjoy it– coveted tickets to a spaceship race, a hike along seaside cliffs that will undoubtedly leave Snow huffing and panting and let Rose have a bit of a challenge, and a rented house near the center of New Atlantis where there will be plenty to do if Rose feels like going on an impromptu outing. Snow’s ideal trip would look quite a bit different (she does mourn the missed opportunity for a spa visit), but this is for Rose, and Snow had hoped the activities would hold her attention and keep her out of her head enough to have some fun.
“Snow,” Rose starts, sounding a little choked. “Did you– are there security plans for this? There will be a lot of people around– how many people go in and out of New Atlantis a day?”
“Of course we’ll have security.” They can hardly go out into the courtyard without it. “And it’s a tourist destination. Isn’t that the point?”
Rose’s eyes are fixed on the itinerary, a hard look to them. “It’s easy to hide in that kind of crowd. Cities like that are dangerous.”
“If it were that dangerous, they’d do something about it. Their economy depends on people coming to visit,” Snow points out, frowning. “It’s not any more dangerous than wandering around Zantine like we did as kids.”
“We probably shouldn’t have done that, either,” Rose mutters.
Snow reaches out to catch her hand. “Please come. We– we don’t have to do all this if you don’t want to. But I missed you.”
Rose takes in a deep breath, working her jaw. She scans the list again, seeming to consider. After what must be the longest thirty seconds of Snow’s life, Rose sighs. “We’ll have to be cautious. But if we watch our backs… all right. I’ll give it a shot.”
Snow’s face breaks into a grin, and she squeezes Rose’s hand. “Thank you, Rose. I promise, we’ll have fun.”
…
It’s only a few hours to Ariel by private starship. Rose paces nearly the entire time. Occasionally she pops into the cockpit to check the long-range scans over the pilot’s shoulder, or goes to the other room to talk to their head of security. Even when Snow tries to distract her with a card game, her eyes won’t stop darting around the space, out the windows, as if she’s expecting to be approached by a foreign battleship.
When they land, Rose holds out a hand before Snow can exit the ship. “Let me go first,” she says before cutting in front of her.
Snow rolls her eyes and follows her out, leaving their bags for the staff. “Rose, we’re in a private spaceport,” she says, sighing as the cooler coastal breezes of Ariel hit her. This is a good time of year to be away from Zantine. “You know more about our security protocols than I do. You’re my sister, not my bodyguard.”
Rose shoots her an irritated look. “Better safe than sorry.”
“Come on.” She doesn’t dignify that with a response, just offers her arm. “Food first, settling in, or taking in the view?”
Her eyes are off to the distance, where the ocean is just visible between the tall buildings of the city. “Let’s order food at the house.”
They hire a shuttle to take them to the rental, an attractive little villa in an upscale vacation neighborhood. While Snow sets her suitcase on the rack in her bedroom and arranges her toiletries in the sink and shower, Rose patrols the house. It takes her two rotations, including checking over Snow’s room, before her shoulders fall and she’s able to begin settling in. They order some spicy noodles from a restaurant nearby and eat next to the private pool behind the house.
It isn’t long before they have to start preparing to go to the race. Food seemed to help Rose– she actually seems excited, hovering in the doorway of Snow’s bathroom and needling her good-naturedly about hurrying up as she fixes her hair and makeup. During the ride to the stadium, she gives Snow a brief explanation of the different teams and pilots.
As soon as they get to the stadium, Rose closes off a bit. It’s crowded in a way Snow has rarely seen anyplace outside of holiday seasons like King’s Day, when tourists flood Zantine for the festivities. Everyone here seems just as excited. Snow would be surprised if there was a single empty seat left.
Thankfully, she was able to procure a private box. Their security guides them safely through the dense pack of people, and though they attract curious stares, no one approaches. Snow suspects their presence here is already filtering through Cortex chat rooms and social media pages, and will appear in gossip magazines by morning. There’s nothing to be done for that.
When they get to the security checkpoint, the stadium guard points to Rose’s gun. “No weapons allowed, Ms. Prince,” he tells her. “You can take it home or rent a safe here.”
Rose frowns. “I’m military. I take it everywhere.”
The guard seems completely unimpressed. “Even so. Only certified security personnel can bring a gun in.”
“We’ll rent a safe,” Snow says. Rose shoots her a dirty look, but after glancing between the guard and their own security, she huffs.
“Fine.”
It takes a few minutes to sort out the security locker, but everything goes smoothly enough. Rose is stiff from the moment she unbuckles her holster until the door to their box closes behind them. Once they’re alone, she settles a bit. She keeps glancing at their security as she points out details of the track, but at least she’s talking to her. Snow hopes that once the race starts, she’ll be drawn fully into it– after all, she’s followed the sport since she was ten.
At first, it seems to be working. Rose leans forward when the ships roar to life, and as the start of the race is announced she whoops along with the rest of the crowd. Her preferred racer, the one in the green striped ship, seems to be doing well, if Snow understands the rules of the race. It’s all a bit much for Snow– the noise of the crowd and the ships, the lights, the dizzying feeling of watching ships fly at those speeds– but whenever she glances over at Rose, she’s grinning.
Then a crack rings out. One of the ships falters for a moment. Rose freezes, choking in a breath, hand flying toward her belt and the gun she doesn’t have.
“Are you all right?” Snow asks as the announcers say something about a ship backfiring.
Rose scans the crowd, shoulders falling slightly. Her breaths are a bit too shallow. “Fine. Just the ship.” She clenches her fists and shuts her eyes for a moment. “Just the ship.”
“You’re safe,” Snow says softly.
But after that, Rose’s posture remains tense, and she doesn’t go more than a minute without surveying the crowd again. When her favorite roars across the finish line and the cheer goes up, she seems startled for a moment before she even processes the race has been won.
She cheers along with the crowd, but she doesn’t seem as enthusiastic as she did before.
The next day, when they get to the base of the trail they planned to hike, Rose outright refuses. She squints up at the incline, at the hikers along the cliff edge, as the ocean roars a few hundred meters away. “Absolutely not.”
Snow couldn’t help a disbelieving, frustrated huff. “Why? What in the world is wrong with it?”
Rose looks at her like she’s stupid, and that alone makes her bristle. “The trail goes right along the cliff’s edge. Do you realize how fucking easy it would be for one of us to fall? Or god forbid, be pushed?”
“Who the hell is going to push us, Rose?” she spread her hands wide, exasperated. “Secret agents from Perrault sent into the heart of the Empire?”
“Do you think an enemy of the Empire wouldn’t jump at the chance to target one of His Majesty’s goddaughters? For fuck’s sake, you’re the heir.” Rose turned. “We can walk along the beach. But the cliff is too risky.”
The beach is nice, Snow has to admit. It’s not quite warm enough to comfortably swim, though they do pick their way between some people who seem ready to give it a try. She and Rose stay close to the shore, where the sand is wet and packed tight and easier to walk through. The wind tugs at Snow’s hair and shirt; she’s glad she wore pants for the hike so it couldn’t pick up her skirt.
“It’s pretty,” Snow comments after several silent, tense minutes. “How long has it been since we’ve been to a real beach?”
Rose looks out over the water. “We went when we were fourteen. Stella’s birthday, remember?”
Was that really the last time? “It feels like so long ago. We were kids.”
Rose exhales something that might be a short, sharp laugh. “Yeah. We were.” A few more steps, and then she adds, “Remember how determined you were not to get your hair wet?”
“I’d just washed it!” she protests, still indignant. “Do you have any idea how long it takes to dry and style?”
“Nope. It was worth it when I dunked you, though, wasn’t it?” There’s a hint of her crooked grin on her face, the same mischievous look she had that day.
Snow chuckles. “...all right, fine. It was.” She’d had much more fun once she could dive into the waves with everyone else. “Maybe next time you have leave we can talk Mum and Papa into taking time off. We could spend a whole week on a beach somewhere.”
“That might be nice,” Rose agrees slowly. “It’s– it’s nice to be properly outdoors again. The tunnels get claustrophobic.”
Her heart jolts a little, nerves flashing through her as she recognizes what Rose is talking about. She’s barely mentioned what the last six months have really been like since she got home, not like this. This is an offering. Snow has to treat it like it deserves. “Do they?” she asks cautiously.
Rose glances at her, eyes a little wide, and rubs the back of her neck. “It’s– Hamelin’s all subterranean. The surface isn’t habitable anymore, and the air’s all recirculated. It’s… weird. It’s like… you remember that book about rabbits from when we were kids? The outer warrens or whatever they were called?”
She does– the abandoned tunnels the plucky rabbit protagonist had fearfully navigated, almost getting lost in their unfamiliar twists and turns. She hasn’t thought about that book since she was seven, but the descriptions had been delightfully spooky when their nanny read it to them. “That sounds… strange.”
“It’s…” Rose screws her mouth to the side, staring down at the sand. “You never know what tunnel somebody’s going to come at you from. The insurgents are smart, and they know the layout.” She shudders. “Wharton thinks we can get the planet back under control within the year. Hopefully he’s right and I’m deployed somewhere I at least get to see some sunlight.”
“I hope so,” Snow offers. “I wouldn’t like to be there.”
She sighs. “Nothing to be done. His Majesty needs me there.”
Hamelin is a Crown planet and has been for three generations. Snow doesn’t fully understand why there’s enough of an uprising there to require the military, but it seems like them being there would only make things worse. “Maybe you’ll get really lucky and they’ll negotiate a truce before you’re even deployed again.”
Rose casts her a look, a bit weary, a bit fond, a bit of something Snow can’t quite identify. “Probably not. But we can hope.”
Snow can’t coax Rose into leaving the house the entire day Saturday. No activity she mentions garners any response except excuses as to why it’s not worth doing. They end up spending most of the day watching movies and ordering snacks delivered.
She finally talks Rose into going out for dinner, late in the evening, at a nice restaurant just within walking distance. She catches her slipping a universal antidote into her pocket before they leave, but if that will let Rose enjoy their last full evening here, Snow doesn’t care.
They have a nice enough time at the restaurant. The food is mediocre by Snow’s standards, though Rose says she enjoys it. Rose also has a bit more wine than Snow thinks is wise; she makes a mental note to keep an eye on the way she drinks. Even with the wine, Rose never stops seeming a little on edge. She keeps it together enough that they can chat through the meal, though. It’s… strange, and different, but maybe if this is what’s normal now Snow could get used to it.
Then they walk back to the house.
Snow is telling a story about a party she hosted a few months ago when they come up on a group, all young adults probably a few years older than her and Rose, coming the other way. From their noise levels and the way they walk, they’ve clearly had a bit too much to drink tonight. Rose narrows her eyes at them.
Snow steps to the side, pulling Rose with her to let them pass, but one of the group stumbles into Rose hard. The impact is enough to knock her off balance.
Something in Rose’s posture changes instantly. She stiffens, squaring her shoulders as she rights herself. “What the hell was that for?” she demands.
The man who ran into her laughs. “Shit, sorry, man,” he says.
“What were you trying to do?” Rose steps closer.
Snow grabs her arm. “Rose, it’s fine. It was an accident.”
“Yeah, jeez. Can’t a guy trip?”
Rose pulls out of Snow’s grasp. “Sure. You just ran into us. I’m armed, just so you know.”
“Rose!” Why the hell is she threatening them? Snow glances at the security guards tailing them from a distance, but they don’t seem to want to get involved just yet.
She ignores Snow and continues, “You realize if you laid a finger on either of us King Cole himself would have your head?” The group is backing away, a few of them laughing nervously. “Get the fuck away from us.”
“Rose!” Snow repeats, sharper. “They’re fine. They’re leaving, see?” She grabs Rose again harder and pulls her away.
“Don’t fucking follow us, got it?” She lets Snow drag her away, but her eyes stay on them until they turn a corner.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Rose?” Snow demands, keeping hold of Rose’s hand.
“That person fell right when they passed us,” Rose argues. “You don’t think that was on purpose?”
“I think they were drunk. I think you’re drunk, too.” Maybe more drunk than Snow thought she was. She’s never seen her start a fight like this. “What the hell were you thinking, threatening them like that?”
“They didn’t fall before that.” Her voice is far too loud for an area like this after dark. “They were– just because you always see the best in fucking everybody doesn’t mean everybody is going to fucking… hold hands and sing songs! Do you get that? The galaxy is fucking dangerous, Snow, whatever the hell you think about human nature or whatever.”
Something in the words lodges in Snow’s chest, but she ignores her and keeps pulling Rose back to the house. “Shut up, Rose. You’re drunk. I’m getting you inside before you actually start a fight.”
“You should be fucking glad, Snow. What the hell would you have done if they’d pulled a weapon on you and I hadn’t been there?”
Snow glares back at her. “I would have relied on our security guards, who are paid to protect us from threats. Did you notice they didn’t even get any closer? Random drunk people aren’t a threat.”
Is Rose a threat when she’s drunk now, if this is how she’s going to act?
“Would you have even noticed if they were?” Her face is flushed, whether from anger or alcohol Snow isn’t sure.
“Does it matter? Our security would have. Shut up and let me bring you home.”
She didn’t let go of Rose’s wrist until she shut the door of the house behind them. By then, Rose had started vaguely shaking.
Snow stared at her, still half furious but now worried, too. “Are you okay?”
Rose kicks off her shoes, not meeting Snow’s eyes. “I’m going to take a shower,” she mutters. She doesn’t let Snow say anything else before she disappears into her room.
Snow lets out a shaky breath and starts undoing the complicated straps on her own shoes. What the hell was that? What’s wrong with Rose? What would have happened if Snow hadn’t been there to pull her away?
Is Rose okay?
She changes into more comfortable clothes, turns on a romcom, and sets the volume low so she can keep an ear on the shower. It shuts off after maybe half an hour (a long time for Rose; she’s normally in and out in ten minutes), and another twenty minutes go by before she emerges from her bedroom, now wearing a loose tank top and pajama pants. She walks silently to the kitchen, pulls a water bottle out of the fridge, and comes to sit next to Snow.
“I asked Wharton if I could end my leave early and go back,” she says abruptly, staring at the gray patterned rug. “Two weeks ago.”
Snow’s chest jolts. “You did?”
Why would she want to go back to a war zone instead of being here with her?
Rose nods. “He said no, but– fuck, Snow, I hate this. I didn’t feel like this on deployment. I was fine then.” She takes a shaky breath. “...you were probably right. Those people were probably just drunk. But that’s not– one false negative. One false negative is all it fucking takes for somebody to get past your defenses and kill you.”
“Rose,” she starts before her voice dies in her throat. Maybe that’s true, but… the galaxy isn’t that dangerous. Especially not places like this. People aren’t lurking in every corner waiting to hurt someone.
Rose sets her elbows on her knees and buries her face in her hands. “What if they had been a threat? What if you’d gotten hurt?”
“I wouldn’t have,” she says gently, wrapping an arm around Rose to pull her closer. “I’m protected, Rose, and besides, no one here has even slightly threatened us. The closest thing we’ve had to a problem was when you threatened them. Everyone else we’ve seen has been lovely, haven’t they?”
Rose shrugs. “I don’t know, Snow. I wish you wouldn’t just trust everyone like you do.”
She takes a breath. She doesn’t, not entirely. She’s a politician; she’d be a fool to. She’s aware that people will turn on you, undercut you for a better deal, work in their own interests against those of everyone else in the galaxy. No one thinks she knows that. She does.
But she at least trusts them not to snap into some animalistic rage and try to hurt people. Most people aren’t violent. It’s just as foolish to believe everyone is a bloodthirsty monster as it is to believe they’ll always behave as if they’re kind and good.
“People respond to you the way you do to them,” Snow says. “I think you’d be surprised at how many will greet you with open arms if you do the same.”
She shakes with what Snow thinks is a quiet snort. “Open arms? Really?”
“Most people aren’t looking for a fight.” Even the few who might have any violent intention. “Why start one? Doesn’t escalating like that just make everyone less safe?”
Rose is quiet for a minute. “So does letting them get the jump on you.”
Snow thinks about what Mum said. About how Rose might not be able to relax anymore. About how Papa apparently struggles with things Snow has never seen, about how she shouldn’t expect much of anything right now. She didn’t think it would be this bad.
Is her sister going to be broken like this forever? What has the army done to her?
“Just think about it,” she says gently. “It doesn’t have to be like this, Rose.”
Rose turns her face into Snow’s shoulder and mumbles something. It takes Snow a minute to decode it.
“I really hope nothing ever proves you wrong.”
Snow just holds her tighter.
After a few minutes, Rose leans back, pulling them both to rest against the back of the couch, and looks up at the screen, where the lead actor is swearing to his sister that he hates the man he’ll be engaged to by the end of the movie. Snow quietly rewinds it and pulls the fluffy throw blanket over hers and Rose’s lap.
She keeps holding Rose through the movie. Neither of them say anything.
There’s nothing to be said. Maybe this is the best they can do.