Below fic only reposted to allow Pocket app to detect text
Rewrites and Revisions
https://archiveofourown.
org/works/1626236
Sophia_Prester
Summary:
Somewhere along the line, she picked up this crazy idea that her story was over.
Notes:
Written for Molly
Work Text:
Once upon a time in mid-winter, when the snowflakes were falling like feathers from heaven, a queen sat at the window sewing--
No. Wait. Scratch that. Start over.
Once upon a January 17th, Snow White and her sister Rose Red were driving down I-87 to Albany, and Rose Red was swearing like a trucker at the snow/sleet/freezing rain that was falling exactly like the kind of crappy 'wintry mix' that would send traffic into a snarl for hours.
There. That's much better.
* * * * *
Snow isn't sure what she thinks about the idea that Mundy belief has a continuing impact on the lives of Fables.
There is some kind of effect; that much is certain. What other explanation is there for the fact that she stopped aging the moment her story reached 'happily ever after?'
She has also seen--and often wishes that she has not--that some fables are much more difficult to kill than others. She herself survived having her brain shredded by a bullet, and it took a semi barreling along at seventy miles an hour to write the final 'the end' for Goldilocks. (Shere Khan, on the other hand, was nothing more than a jumped-up poseur, a mere literary invention, and a recent one at that. A few gunshots and a tumble down a cliff were more than enough to take care of him.)
No one knows exactly how old her story is, or Goldie's for that matter. Cautionary tales of young women fallen on hard times are as old as humanity itself, and details about dwarves and bears (and wolves) were probably little more than set decoration at first. At some point, however, those details became important. Snow White had her dwarves. Goldilocks was forever associated with bears.
As their stories were told and migrated from culture to culture, other variations began to emerge (Did her stepmother dance herself to death, or fall off a cliff? Her memory has become faulty in that regard.) but those later changes only had a subtle and shifting impact.
The important details are set in stone. The cores of their stories--and their selves--will never change.
As far as the Mundy world is concerned, their tales have come to fitting, universally accepted--and appallingly sanitized--conclusions (though the gruesome would return, with time). Goldilocks was punished for her recklessness. Snow White married her Prince Charming and lived happily ever after.
End of story.
No. Wait. Put a line through that.
Try again.
* * * * *
Like millions of Mundy mothers, Snow found that the DVD player served as an excellent babysitter in a pinch.
Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work we go...
Most people would have thought the video was Rose's idea, a not-so-subtle way of tweaking her sister's nose.
In truth, Rose had loudly tried to talk Snow out of the purchase, dogging her steps through the aisles of Best Buy as Snow strode straight to the cashier, giggling like a madwoman.
"The kids will love it," Snow stated over another iteration of oh please, please, please tell me you're not really going to buy that! "Besides, I'm also getting them this," she said, holding out another DVD. "My children need to know where they come from, after all."
Rose took one look at the DVD cover, and nearly fell to the floor, doubled over in helpless laughter.
Who's afraid of the big bad wolf, the big bad wolf, the big bad wolf...
* * * * *
Editor's note: Insert following additional material to go in place of "End of story. (deleted)"
The truth of the matter is that Goldilocks went on to lead a revolt, commit a few murders, and come to a messy end on a state highway.
Snow White is still alive, but she is no longer married and she has to walk with the aid of a cane. Apparently Mundy belief in her happily ever after isn't enough to cure severe neurological damage.
And, the way Snow sees it, that's where currently accepted theories on the interdependence of Fables and Mundies start to break down.
Rose, with her usual tact, managed to strike right to the heart of the matter at dinner the other night.
"I really can't wait for Disney to release the extended director's cut of your life story. You know, the one with the deleted scenes of you kicking Prince Charming's cheating ass to the curb or oh! I know!" she said, pointing at Snow with a fork, "the bit where you get knocked up by the Big Bad Wolf. That's a classic."
It's a sign of how much things have changed in the past few years that Snow laughs so hard at this she brings on a fit of the hiccups.
Later that night, as she's getting the kids ready for bed, Snow thinks about her children and what Rose said and starts laughing all over again.
Somewhere along the line, she picked up this crazy idea that her story was over.
* * * * *
Her children can change shape.
Her children can fly.
One of her children didn't even have a body and was responsible for several deaths before (his? her? definitely not its) first birthday.
Even for Fables, they are something out of the ordinary.
Oh, there are plenty of inhuman Fables along with Fables who can change shape and Fables who can fly. That's not what makes her children so unusual.
What sets her children apart is that they have no stories. At least, none that the Mundies know.
* * * * *
A letter arrived for her just the other day. It was handwritten on a sheet torn from an ordinary yellow memo pad and came in the kind of pre-stamped envelope you could find at any post office.
And the handwriting... God, she'd seen it more times than she could count on report after report, but no security report had ever made her heart race like this.
There was no return address, of course, but there was a postmark--Chicago. One corner of her mouth quirked up. The Windy City, huh? It was the sort of dumbass thing he'd do as a joke, just like he'd once cadged a date by claiming it was essential to an investigation.
It took her longer than she'd ever admit to get around to actually opening the envelope and fishing out the little bit of paper inside. What finally got her moving was the tapping of Rose's nails, counting down the moments; and the knowledge that if she didn't open it, Rose would grab it from her, rip it open, and read it out loud, despite the complete lack of privacy afforded by too many Fables in too small a space.
That simply wouldn't do. It's her story, after all, not Rose's, and Snow has no intention of sharing it with anyone, especially while it's still unfinished.
* * * * *
One of the many regrets Snow has is that she cannot remember anything of the time that she and Bigby spent together under the influence of Bluebeard's potion. Logic dictates that they slept together. Otherwise, she wouldn't have given birth to seven children that were all too obviously Bigby's progeny.
She can't help but wonder who seduced whom, or if there was any morning-after regret, even in their potion-befogged state. Was it spontaneous, or did they actually take the time to talk things over before taking the plunge?
"You know," Rose told her once, "most people have the six kids after they've resolved the whole sexual tension thing."
Snow said nothing. She simply raised her eyebrows and gave Rose one of the chilly stares she'd used countless times as deputy mayor to put others in their place.
Then, of course, she ruined the whole effect by sticking her tongue out at her sister.
* * * * *
The letter is disappointingly short, but there's nothing to complain about in the content.
#7 got here okay. Things are under control, but we both have a lot to learn. I'll get in touch in a few weeks and let you know what's going on.
Be sure to tell the kids all about their charming rogue of a dad. You can even tell them the truth if you want.
- Bigby
In many ways, the man (she has trouble thinking of Bigby as a wolf, despite the evidence) is the ultimate pragmatist, and would do what he thought needed to be done. Yet she had gambled her child's life on Bigby's devotion to her.
For all she knew, Rose could have been wrong, and Bigby wasn't just sulking; he truly was angry at her forever and ever, the end, and would take that anger out on their child.
It wasn't until she read those first two sentences that she realized just how much she'd worried that Bigby might, like his own estranged father, see the child as a threat to be exterminated, and not as someone in desperate need of help.
It would have been so easy for her story to change from a fairy tale to a Greek tragedy. Not that the two things were all that different, sometimes.
She read the rest of the letter over and over, seeing more in its spareness and bluntness than she had ever seen in any of Charming's exquisitely crafted love letters and even more exquisitely crafted letters of apology and promises to 'never do it again.'
I'll get in touch in a few weeks.
Other promises may have touched her fancy, but this one pierced her to the heart.
* * * * *
And they lived happily ever after.
That's how her story with Prince Charming ended, and looking back, she can see it was an honest enough ending. For a while, they were happy. Really, truly happy. And then, when they were no longer happy together, their story was no longer their story.
Oh, the story of Snow White and her Prince Charming is still spinning around out there. It's the subject of movies and of countless elementary school pageants. Bruno Bettelheim has written psychological studies about them, and Donald Barthelme has used them as a laboratory for experimenting with the shape of fiction itself.
As for their individual stories, Prince Charming seems to be getting into plenty of interesting trouble on his own as of late.
And Snow...
Right now, Snow has just hung up the phone and is yelling downstairs to Rose to dig out the train schedule.
Now that she knows that her story isn't over, it's much, much easier to recognize when a new chapter--a new volume--is about to begin.
* * * * *
Once upon a time...
No. We've agreed to scrap that beginning. The story starts here, and it starts now.
* * * * *
In the end (but by no means The End), Rose got them safely over the icy roads, and Snow and two of her children got on a train headed to Boston. The two she'd chosen to go with her had enough control over their human forms that she could risk taking them out into the Mundy world. Even so, she insisted that they keep their hats on, because little ears would go pointy and furry without warning, especially on a blustery January day.
Maybe it was cruel of her, but she thought that denying the others this trip in favor of a future one might be the incentive they needed to work on holding their human forms for longer than a few minutes at a time.
So, she would go down in their personal histories as a Mean Mommy. She could live with that, as had many other mothers before her.
The trip was no perilous journey through deep, dark woods to a witch's cottage or enchanted castle. No, the biggest danger they faced on the journey was that her daughter showed signs of motion sickness, and her son suffered from the kind of boredom that would tempt him to create his own entertainment if she didn't get matters under control now. And they were going to South Station, not the Green Knight's castle, but Snow almost wished she were going to face enchanted thorns, an angry giant, or even a dragon instead of... well, whatever was waiting for her.
Bigby had wanted to meet on something resembling neutral territory. Boston, with its small Fable community on Beacon Hill, was the most logical choice. They'd even hashed out some rough plans: take the kids to the Aquarium, find some family restaurant with all the charm and atmosphere of an airplane hanger, maybe go feed the ducks on Boston Common, then park the kids with Mother Holle and go find someplace quiet to talk.
If they were lucky, they might actually come to an agreement or two.
Being woken by a kiss was a much simpler way to begin a relationship. She and Bigby hadn't even gotten started yet, and already there was a groundwork of hurt feelings and resentment. Both of them had the sort of stubborn pride that would send them crashing headlong into each other rather than admit fault or come to a compromise. Plus, the kids were in the worst stages of stranger-shyness, which would make introductions to their daddy awkward at best.
As the train pulled into the station, Snow found herself thinking about Rose, and how everything had gone so wrong between them, and how somehow they were closer now than they had ever been, even back in their cottage days. It hadn't been easy, but if there was one thing she had learned from Prince Charming, it was that easy was overrated.
Bigby was waiting for them on the platform, an erratic breeze blowing a scrap of paper around the pile of cigarette butts at his feet. She couldn't quite describe the look on his face. Eager? Anxious? Amused? Even after all their years working together, she didn't find it easy to read his moods.
And then he smirked at her. It wasn't a real smile, but it made her heart leap all the same. Then, the smirk changed to a grin as the scrap of paper that was scudding around flipped up high for a second, just long enough for Snow to read the 'Hi Mommy!' that had been written there in Bigby's handwriting.
No, things would not be easy. But they were definitely worth fighting for.
If you looked at the old stories, the stories that were over, then maybe Snow White and the Big Bad Wolf weren't supposed to live happily ever after.
But this was a new story, their story, and their happiness was nobody's business but their own.
* * * * *
The End.
Strike that.
To Be Continued.