Snow White

Chapter 35

Hey,
Thanks for reading. Sorry about the wait.
Quick note:  I've calculated that that story will end by chapter 40 😥
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Enjoy,
Annabelle_the_reader
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Determination shot through Snow like a dagger as she made her way towards the palace. Her men were behind her. Justice was on her side. Snow was running by now, eager to meet her destiny. Eager to slay the Queen that had caused her, her friends and her family unimaginable pain. This would stop. Now.

Snow felt like she was sinking, drowning and suffocating with pain and sorrow. But Harry's hand squeezing her own was the only thing that insured her that he had her back and he would stand by her to the very end.

No matter how Snow felt, or where Snow go, or who she was with, she know that, assured by Harry's hand squeezing her own, that he had her back and he would stand by her to the very end.

Snow was heart broken, feeling every last shining spark of to soul crushed under the attack of the wicked. Harry's hand squeezing her own, that he had her back and he would stand by her to the very end.

'Snow,' She turned to stare deep into Harry's eyes, her heart fluttering with his warm, kind eyes gleaming into her soul. 'There is no future, there is no past. I live this moment as my last. If I die, or if you die, or if we both live, know that I will love you always.'

'I love you too.' Snow whispered, before their eyes locked quickly, then averted their attention on the common enemy.

Amidst the desert sands of billowing dust from buildings, destruction had just begun, but the battle raged on, bombing veils the rising sun. But something caught her attention. A young boy, not yet a man, with no name, risking his existence for the lives that he may save.

His clothes soaked with blood, his blood on his boots as he breaths in, his chest rises slowly, almost painfully. His eyes are wide with fright, watching his friends, brothers, sisters, family by his side, but he conceals all of his panic as he holds his head high. Radiance is reflected in his eyes. His heart was filled with range, but his mind fought to understand.

Resting beneath the sunset, wounded he dreamt of home away from the palace and a place without without Margarita. He dreamt of peace. He dreamt of freedom as the colour left his face and his blood waters the flowers in this destructive, cruel, deceitful building. Tears leave streaks down his dirty, blooded face as sorrow and emptiness now takes his place.

He forgot what it felt like to fear.

When his living is a waste of death, Snow wanted to remember him every day. That in a palace, miles from home, there is a boy that was and is and will always be a brave warrior.

Suddenly, Snow heard the familiar sound of a sword touching the side of my shield, twisting her hand back. She yelped in pain, turning to face Sir Thomas, a small smirk riddled across his face. Clutching her wrist, her eyes burned with hatred.

She swung the sword in his direction, but it didn't seem to make much difference. Snow dodged his next blow, attacking him with all of her strength and watched as the hatred glistened in his eyes, until nothing but pain was evident. Pain. Agony. He clutched his side and fell to the ground, whimpering, spluttering, yelping.

'You should have given up your life, Snow! All of these people that are dead: friends, family, strangers, women, children; they are all dead because you were not willing to die for them. Your selfish.' He screamed, flicking his sword towards her.

'Ouch!' Snow squealed, turning her face to see Sir Thomas using this to her disadvantage. He plunged his sword towards her, hitting her arm violetly. Snow gasped, pain shooting through her arm like lasers and almost blinding her from all other emotion.