strawberry shortcake xxi
Title: if the world were ending
Author: lealila
Summary: Snow White faces her imminent demise after the death of her mother. Or: the beginning of the end.
Verse: under your skin the moon is alive
Challenge: Strawberry Shortcake XXI [i'll make a man out of you]
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1079
AN: Title from Panic! at the Disco. Please, may I get an author tag as: lealila?
if the world were ending (would you kiss me?)
snow white faces her imminent demise after the death of her mother. or: the beginning of the endWhen Snow White was a child, her mother said, “You will need to take fighting lessons one day.”
She replied, confused, because her maids always tut at violence and encourage just the opposite, “Why would I need lessons?”
“My darling girl.” Her mother had taken her in her arms, and held on tight. “In a man’s world, the women must always have more than wits to save her neck and crown.”
Now, ten years later, when she is on the edge of seventeen, when her step-father has just buried her mother in a sea of roses, Snow White finds herself grateful for the lessons a Huntsman (a friend) taught her in the dead of night, when her step-father was busy trying to make himself a king.
(He offers her comfort, the night of his wife’s passing. He says, “Please, my darling girl, let me help you.”
She cringes at his use of her nickname and says, “Father, I would like some time alone.” And this-this is breaking the rule they have: pretend to like each other, need each other. This is saying: our games are done.
Your move.)
Her step-father smiles at her over Rose’s grave. She smiles equally as tight and grips her dagger under her cloak even harder.
.
The Huntsman, Jaeqar, hands her a sword. “This weapon is your life.”
She lifts her eyebrows and thinks back to years of training with the bow and arrow and dagger and her hands. “You have said the same before.”
“All weapons are your life.”
“Spoken like a man.”
“Spoken like a girl.”
“Woman,” she stresses, though she just passed thirteen.
He’s not very tall; at five foot and seven inches, he barely makes the standard for males. Despite this, at her height of four feet and eleven inches, she feels the difference in size. “Not yet.”
(In the beginning, when she was just starting out with her hands, Snow had said, “You’ll not make a man out me, Sir.”
Jaeqar had only laughed. “Not yet.”)
.
A week after her mother’s passing, Jaeqar visits her as she gets ready to rest.
While it is not uncommon for him to visit her at odd hours and times (on one memorable occasion, she was bathing when he decided to drop by), he never carries such distress in his eyes and his heart.
“Snow, I must speak with.”
With her night clothes in her arms, Snow leads him to her bed chambers; let people think and gossip. She has heard rumors about their courtship for years. And perhaps, on this evening, it is good for people to speculate her romantic life and not what dreadful news he must be carrying.
“Well, Huntsman,” Snow says, once the door of her room has been shut. “What news do you bring?”
He sits on her bed while she changes into her clothes. He watches her with detached interest, and-not for the first time-she wonders if they would have managed a romantic relationship. She wonders if she could ever love him as a husband and not as a brother. And-also not for the first time-she dismisses those thoughts as fast as they come: she has no time for such nonsense.
As she throws her mourning dress onto a chair, Jaeqar meets her eyes. “My lady,” he says solemnly, “I think you are going to die.”
And what makes her freeze-what makes her slowly sink onto the red velvet chair where her dress lays scattered-is not his words of her (apparently) imminent death, but his use of her title.
“And what,” she says slowly, as if to a child, “makes you say that?”
He blinks just once. “I am not the only one on your side.”
Standing, she shoves her night dress on and over her under clothes. “Zipper the back, will you?” Snow White turns and gathers her hair into a bun, keeping it up with her hands. “Why are people in the castle suddenly taking sides?”
“Not suddenly.” His rough fingers brush her back as he pulls up the zipper. “You should know that.”
She does. Turning, Snow White stands face-to-face with him. After years together, she has finally caught up to his short stature. Distantly, she finds herself pleased. “Alright. I am probably going to die. Should I assume the king is behind the curtain, planning my funeral right now?”
“Snow White.” Jaeqar smiles, but his eyes seems to sag with deep sorrow. “You know better than to assume.”
.
(“Are you afraid of dying, Jaeqar?”
They have just finished lessons, and are now walking to the kitchens for dinner. Snow’s sword hanging on her belt is a weight she has gotten used to, but today, it feels oddly heavy.
“I suppose,” he says eventually, “that no one wants to die. But it is inevitable.” He glances at her, hard. “All living creatures die, Snow White. Do not ever assume otherwise.”
She startles at his harsh tone, but does not argue. Thinking of the father she barely knew, she hastily changes the subject.)
.
“We do not know how he plans to kill you.”
“My step-father is very cunning,” she offers in comfort.
“But we have to be smarter.” Taking her hands in his, he says, “What are you willing to do?”
For a long moment, she does not say a word. Wistfully, she stares at their joined hands. “Civilians will not have a part in this…feud. Not if it can be helped.”
“If you do not wish for King Lennon to keep the crown, civilians must get involved,” Jaeqar says gently. “But for now, we shall do our best.”
Snow desperately desires to know who we is, but she knows that some secrets are best kept in the dark.
“Then I suppose,” she says, perhaps sadly, perhaps determinedly, “we should get ready for war.”
For the first time in her entire presence, Jaeqar Easom bows low before her, still holding hands. “As you wish, Snow White.”
As he takes his leave, Snow White closes her eyes and wonders if her mother knew, all those years ago.
(She wonders if this feud between herself and her father must truly come to swords; she wonders how she let it come to this; she wonders if there is a way to go back. But she knows, deep within her hearts, that it would always come to swords because she will not give up her country without a fight.)
Author: lealila
Summary: Snow White faces her imminent demise after the death of her mother. Or: the beginning of the end.
Verse: under your skin the moon is alive
Challenge: Strawberry Shortcake XXI [i'll make a man out of you]
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1079
AN: Title from Panic! at the Disco. Please, may I get an author tag as: lealila?
if the world were ending (would you kiss me?)
snow white faces her imminent demise after the death of her mother. or: the beginning of the endWhen Snow White was a child, her mother said, “You will need to take fighting lessons one day.”
She replied, confused, because her maids always tut at violence and encourage just the opposite, “Why would I need lessons?”
“My darling girl.” Her mother had taken her in her arms, and held on tight. “In a man’s world, the women must always have more than wits to save her neck and crown.”
Now, ten years later, when she is on the edge of seventeen, when her step-father has just buried her mother in a sea of roses, Snow White finds herself grateful for the lessons a Huntsman (a friend) taught her in the dead of night, when her step-father was busy trying to make himself a king.
(He offers her comfort, the night of his wife’s passing. He says, “Please, my darling girl, let me help you.”
She cringes at his use of her nickname and says, “Father, I would like some time alone.” And this-this is breaking the rule they have: pretend to like each other, need each other. This is saying: our games are done.
Your move.)
Her step-father smiles at her over Rose’s grave. She smiles equally as tight and grips her dagger under her cloak even harder.
.
The Huntsman, Jaeqar, hands her a sword. “This weapon is your life.”
She lifts her eyebrows and thinks back to years of training with the bow and arrow and dagger and her hands. “You have said the same before.”
“All weapons are your life.”
“Spoken like a man.”
“Spoken like a girl.”
“Woman,” she stresses, though she just passed thirteen.
He’s not very tall; at five foot and seven inches, he barely makes the standard for males. Despite this, at her height of four feet and eleven inches, she feels the difference in size. “Not yet.”
(In the beginning, when she was just starting out with her hands, Snow had said, “You’ll not make a man out me, Sir.”
Jaeqar had only laughed. “Not yet.”)
.
A week after her mother’s passing, Jaeqar visits her as she gets ready to rest.
While it is not uncommon for him to visit her at odd hours and times (on one memorable occasion, she was bathing when he decided to drop by), he never carries such distress in his eyes and his heart.
“Snow, I must speak with.”
With her night clothes in her arms, Snow leads him to her bed chambers; let people think and gossip. She has heard rumors about their courtship for years. And perhaps, on this evening, it is good for people to speculate her romantic life and not what dreadful news he must be carrying.
“Well, Huntsman,” Snow says, once the door of her room has been shut. “What news do you bring?”
He sits on her bed while she changes into her clothes. He watches her with detached interest, and-not for the first time-she wonders if they would have managed a romantic relationship. She wonders if she could ever love him as a husband and not as a brother. And-also not for the first time-she dismisses those thoughts as fast as they come: she has no time for such nonsense.
As she throws her mourning dress onto a chair, Jaeqar meets her eyes. “My lady,” he says solemnly, “I think you are going to die.”
And what makes her freeze-what makes her slowly sink onto the red velvet chair where her dress lays scattered-is not his words of her (apparently) imminent death, but his use of her title.
“And what,” she says slowly, as if to a child, “makes you say that?”
He blinks just once. “I am not the only one on your side.”
Standing, she shoves her night dress on and over her under clothes. “Zipper the back, will you?” Snow White turns and gathers her hair into a bun, keeping it up with her hands. “Why are people in the castle suddenly taking sides?”
“Not suddenly.” His rough fingers brush her back as he pulls up the zipper. “You should know that.”
She does. Turning, Snow White stands face-to-face with him. After years together, she has finally caught up to his short stature. Distantly, she finds herself pleased. “Alright. I am probably going to die. Should I assume the king is behind the curtain, planning my funeral right now?”
“Snow White.” Jaeqar smiles, but his eyes seems to sag with deep sorrow. “You know better than to assume.”
.
(“Are you afraid of dying, Jaeqar?”
They have just finished lessons, and are now walking to the kitchens for dinner. Snow’s sword hanging on her belt is a weight she has gotten used to, but today, it feels oddly heavy.
“I suppose,” he says eventually, “that no one wants to die. But it is inevitable.” He glances at her, hard. “All living creatures die, Snow White. Do not ever assume otherwise.”
She startles at his harsh tone, but does not argue. Thinking of the father she barely knew, she hastily changes the subject.)
.
“We do not know how he plans to kill you.”
“My step-father is very cunning,” she offers in comfort.
“But we have to be smarter.” Taking her hands in his, he says, “What are you willing to do?”
For a long moment, she does not say a word. Wistfully, she stares at their joined hands. “Civilians will not have a part in this…feud. Not if it can be helped.”
“If you do not wish for King Lennon to keep the crown, civilians must get involved,” Jaeqar says gently. “But for now, we shall do our best.”
Snow desperately desires to know who we is, but she knows that some secrets are best kept in the dark.
“Then I suppose,” she says, perhaps sadly, perhaps determinedly, “we should get ready for war.”
For the first time in her entire presence, Jaeqar Easom bows low before her, still holding hands. “As you wish, Snow White.”
As he takes his leave, Snow White closes her eyes and wonders if her mother knew, all those years ago.
(She wonders if this feud between herself and her father must truly come to swords; she wonders how she let it come to this; she wonders if there is a way to go back. But she knows, deep within her hearts, that it would always come to swords because she will not give up her country without a fight.)