Snow (A Short Story)

I appear to have the best daydreams in tuition. This might be a thing!

He sank down into the old rickety chair, looking defeated and wary. Hannah waited for the other fae to exit the room before she addressed her husband.

"Cal."

He looked up at the sound of his name. He slumped, and the lines on his face were more pronounced. "We can't let them know."

"We can't let them know what?"

"Jail Vas. Keep him away. Stop him fro-"

"Stop him from what?"

"From telling them the truth!" he burst out. Hannah glanced worriedly at her husband. "I can't-"

She crossed the room, silencing him with an action she had not done in years: she placed her hand to his cheek. He quietened and stilled at her touch, his blue eyes meeting hers. "Shhhh...." she murmured. "Tell me what's wrong."

He leaned into her hand. "I can't."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want you to hate me, Hannah," he looked away, and the gap that was temporarily mended grew further than before.

The Summer Queen stood, her face hardening, wondering how she had ever loved this man. This coward. She was so smitten with him in the beginning. He seemed so perfect. Handsome, loving and above all, brave and courageous. It was too late when she realized what he was. A bloody coward.

"I see," the two words were not harsh, not meant to scathe or burn, but Cal flinched like he had been slapped.

"It's not like that..."

"It's always not like that," she pulled on a pair of silk kid gloves.

"You don't understand, Hannah."

Her hand was on the door handle, and the words struck her hard. "You really are a piece of shitty work," she growled, slamming the door behind her.

She shivered the instant she stepped out, the cold wind biting her cheeks. Only God knew how Snow managed to live in these conditions.

She took a cigarette out of her pocket, attempting to light the tip with her lighter, only to find that the clear liquid frozen. She cursed, attempting to start it again.

She nearly dropped her lighter in surprise when she saw the small ice crystals start to thaw. She turned to see Snow, her strange blue eyes on the cigarette in her hand.

"Hey," she greeted Snow, flicking her lighter on. The flame was weak, but enough to light her cigarette.

"They've taken Vas," Snow said, giving Hannah an icy glare. "The Summer fae have taken Vas."

"You'll have to talk to the Summer King. His authority overrides mine," she breathed in the delightful chemicals and instantly felt better.

"But your authority is better respected. The fae will listen to you if it ever comes between both of you," Hannah could hear the desperation in her voice. For the first time, Hannah felt pity for the fae. They might have looked different, perhaps the virtual opposite of each other, but Snow could have been a younger version of Hannah.

"Listen to yourself," she said, stubbing her half finished cigarette before throwing down. "Listen to yourself for once, Snow. How long have you been without a consort? A millennia? Three? A hundred?"

Snow nodded.

"And now he magically pops out of nowhere, claiming that he has to bring you to the faerie lands. You, as his wife, in order to stop some bloody faes from dying. He didn't come years ago, to bring you back. He comes here, and tells us that he has been harbouring some sort of love for another faerie. And I have a feeling it's an affair," she murmured. "Royal fae never fall for their subjects. And now you are asking me to let him go?"