Snow White and the Seven Souls

Plans for the King’s wedding progressed quickly and with great excitement among the populace of Elkendor, and throughout all of Ravain. The shallow breaths that had barely sustained the life of the kingdom for years were now giving way to shouts of congratulations whenever the King would pass by. As a result of the general enthusiasm for the King’s impending nuptials, a truly magnificent ball was planned to celebrate the event.

Not a few eligible bachelors, carefully screened by the King’s advisors, were invited from within Ravain and the neighbouring lands in the hopes of catching Snow’s eye. After all, if Flynn was to return to happiness and a hope for the future, then why shouldn’t Snow benefit from this occasion as well?

When the day of the wedding arrived, Snow wore a flowing, sparkling gown of white and yellow, with a great jeweled necklace and matching earrings. The unique piece around her neck was made of white gold and fine jewels of various hues, the predominant colour being canary to accent her gown. The necklace was thick as a collar to balance out the heart-shaped neckline of Snow’s dress. With her dark hair and red lips contrasting her ensemble, Snow was beginning to resemble the beauteous and unparalleled woman from the portrait. She was beginning to look like a queen.

Despite her bridal glory, the new Queen Kara could not compare with Snow’s magnificence on this day. True to her reputation, Kara showed no signs of being bothered by this. She beamed happily at her new husband, her new stepdaughter and all the guests as though the day had turned out to be everything that it should have been. Perhaps, from her perspective, it had.

It was no surprise to anyone that many people, young and old, men and women, flocked to Snow’s side during the ball. She danced with someone new every few minutes, sometimes being unable to complete one dance without having someone cut in on her partner. It was a welcome distraction from the monotony of palace life, and it seemed to mark an end to her period of mourning.

Throughout the ball, Snow tried not to think of her mother and to enjoy herself. Time, however, had not done its job. She still bore a wound that had never really healed. She lasted several hours amongst the throng, but eventually found it all to be too much. Escaping the crowd for a breath of air, Snow slipped out of the ballroom and went to the rear courtyard. It was deserted there, tucked away from the public areas of the palace.

The stars shone brightly as it was a cloudless, moonless night. Spring had come and the air was sweet with the scent of trees in full blossom. A voice in the darkness startled Snow, as she expected to be alone.

“Your Highness.” The voice was deep, resonant, and alluring. Snow turned towards it and saw a silhouette of pitch black within the shadows of the courtyard. “Forgive me for intruding, but you left before I could have the honour of a dance. I wonder if you would indulge me now?”

“We cannot really hear the music from this distance, sir...?”

“Ambrose is my name. It was not for the music that I wished to dance with you. I could not leave the palace without at least asking you first. Will you join me?” The shadow’s hand extended into a shaft of muted light that shone from the nearest window. The softly illuminated hand was smooth and inviting. Snow moved in closer, reached out her hand and took it.

The shadow, as Snow had surmised, was in fact a well-built man. Snow assumed that he was a noble from his bearing and the fact that he seemed to be an invited guest. He deftly pulled her in toward him once their hands were clasped, drawing her into a closer hold than would have been appropriate had there been an audience. There were protocols to follow when dancing with a princess. But there under the cover of night, it felt to Snow that everything was unfolding as it should.

The man smelled of smoke and ashes with a hint of cedar, as if he spent his days fireside. His broad chest was gently pressed against her own as they danced to a rhythm that seemed to match her heartbeat exactly. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she found that Ambrose had blond hair that curled loosely around his face. He had full lips and the darkest eyes she had ever seen.

“The air smells sweetly of apple blossoms tonight. Does Your Highness enjoy apples?” the man asked after a few minutes of silent movement, the two of them dancing in the dark.

“As much as anyone, surely. But it is far too early in the year for such fruits.”

“Where I come from there are some very unique apples. The most flavourful, honeyed apples you will ever taste. Would you like me to bring you some, when the harvest comes?”

Something stirred within Snow at this suggestion. Another meeting with the mysterious Ambrose to look forward to. “That sounds wonderful,” she replied. “Where is it that you come from, Sir Ambrose?”

“Oh, not too far from here, in fact. I have traveled to Elkendor on many occasions.”

“Then it is a shame that this is the first time we should meet,” Snow was tempted to look away from Ambrose in embarrassment at her last comment, but she found that she could not escape the pull of his eyes. There was something familiar about them, like an echo that you can barely recall hearing. One that you desperately want to hear again.

“May I remove your necklace?” Ambrose inquired in a voice that was at once velvet and steel. It was less of a request than a promise. “I shall return it to its rightful place in a moment. I simply find myself wanting to see what lies underneath.”

Snow nodded, all the while wondering why she was doing so. Ambrose reached around her neck to the clasp. He removed the elaborate collar and placed it carefully on the edge of the courtyard’s well. Throat bared, Snow felt as if much more than her necklace had been removed.

The shadow-man trailed his fingers along her jawline and down her neck, then around her back until she was in his embrace. His face lowered to the skin just above where her neck and shoulder met. He breathed in the scent of her, savouring the moment. Then he struck, biting down with the piercing of sharp teeth that could only be the fangs of a vampire.