Blood and Apples

The past

England, 1798,

Snow White ran with unearthly grace through the woods of Hampshire, her ears picking up the thudding footsteps of someone chasing her. It had been six months since she had fled her stepmothers estate after her father had died.

"You cannot run forever, Snow." The Duchess panted.

She skidded to a stop and turned to face the queen clothed in leather.

"You killed my mother, married my father and made my life a living hell. I am not allowed to go anywhere without armed guards!" She growled, her fangs shot out and pierced her bottom lip.

The Duchess looked at Snow who had blood trickling down her chin. She had never been so relived and disgusted to find this particular vampire. She had hunted down and killed many bloodsuckers but she would not harm this one. She had purchased an ordinary apple and injected it with holy water to take Snow down but not to hurt her. Snow would sleep until the end of time, coocooned in an eternal slumber. Safe until someone accidentally woke her.

"I killed your mother after she was bitten, hoping that you'd be alright. But she went into an early labour and you were born with a mouthful of fangs. I couldn't help it if your father fell for me. I tried my best to help you. Here."

Snow eyed the apple that lay in the duchesses hands. She crept forward warily.

"Take it. It's a peace offering. Now will you please come home?"

Snow sniffed the air surrounding the apple. It smelled heavenly but there was also the tang of something else. She reached forward with a pale hand and took it. The duchess smiled. Snow turned the blood red apple around but she could find no fault with it. Snow raised the apple and bit into it. All of a sudden, she seized, coughing and spitting blood. The duchess winced as she collasped, the apple rolling to a stop at her feet. She knelt at Snows inert form.

"I'm sorry."

She brushed Snows unruly black hair away from her face. Now to hide her away from the world, to keep her safe and protected. She placed a hand over her stomach. She was barely four months gone, the stress of the death of her husband and Snows running had taken a toll on her. Her little one, shifted and moved as if pining for the girl who lay on the forest floor.

"I pray that you'll never meet her, my son." She mused as she picked up the apple.

She moved through the trees back to waiting guards.