Title: Between the Shadow and the Soul
Rating: T
Summary: In the Enchanted Forest, a princess wakes to snow.
Note: Little vignette for the Enchanted Forest AU picspam. Prompted from Tumblr. Anon, what did you do? Also Kristy is a lying liar who lies.

She can smell it, the moment she wakes. There is a chill in the air, a deep bone-cold that is different than how it's been all season long. She knows what it must mean.

There's snow.

She peels back the covers. It is early enough yet that the servants haven't come to wake her, so it is empty in her rooms. She reaches for the canopy and pulls it aside, slipping into the waiting slippers by her bed. She crosses to the chair at her vanity, pulling her dressing robe over herself to cast away some of the chill. She pads to the window box and perches on the seat. With a low exhale, she pulls apart the curtains on her window. Indeed, there is a thick blanket of white covering the terrain, as far as her eyes can see. A slow smile reaches her lips. She watches the tree line, the deep contrast of dark pine and glistening snow, and her heart flutters.

"Your Highness?"

She turns, feeling her loose hair drift across her back. "I'm awake."

Her chambermaid drops into a quick curtsey. "Highness, it is found that there is too much snow for your lessons today."

Her smile grows and she turns back to the window. "I know."

"Might you prefer to stay abed? I can send for breakfast when you are ready," Constance offers.

She shakes her head. "No, thank you," she replies curtly. She rises, her whole body humming at the prospect. "I will want to enjoy the fresh powder."

"Their majesties won't be able to join you, Your Highness," the girl says, her head bowed.

Emma bites her lip and shies away from her gaze. "Oh, I did assume they would be busy with the first snowfall. I can take myself."

"I will send for a guard to accompany you once you are ready."

She turns, trying to calm the anxious racing of her heart so her meaning is not understood. "I believe the knight from the woods would be best, wouldn't you?"

Constance only bows in response, and skitters away to prepare for her duties. Emma practically vibrates in excitement, ready for a day alone with him.

X

He meets her in the Great Hall. He isn't decked in his armor as it isn't suited to today. Small weaponry will accompany him, but not the clanking metal that will impede his light steps. He is resplendent in the wools and silks he has been provided to wear, though she can tell he is uncomfortable in the finery. He bows deeply when he sees her, though his eyes sear into hers even as his body dips.

She swallows, already feeling warm.

"Your Highness wishes to see the snow?" he asks, his voice soft and lilting. He so rarely speaks inside the castle that to hear it echo off the stone walls sends a thrill through her.

She nods and adjusts the basket in her arms. "I wish to collect some pine and other fragrant things. My rooms have been … stifling as of late," she asserts.

He barely hides his smile as his head ducks, and she knows he has been feeling the same. The rains started months ago, making forest trips near impossible for her. He clears his throat and nods to the door. "I will be happy to escort you."

She tucks further into her fur-lined cape as not to reach for him, and raises her chin as she passes. He trails only a step or two behind, oh-so-appropriate under the watchful eyes of the staff.

"Princess!"

She freezes at the gate, worried now that she is so close to escape. They both turn, seeing Granny Lucas hobbling toward them. Her stomach knots, but she offers a bright smile to cover it. "Granny," she greets as sweetly as she is able.

The octogenarian peers curiously at her companion before holding out a newly crocheted hat. "This snow is much colder than last year's. Take this, dear girl."

She pulls on the hat over her delicate braid, and looks behind to see he is smiling at her. She blushes slightly and turns back. "Thank you, Granny."

She waves away the thanks, and then reaches forward to tug on his coat. "You keep her out of trouble, Huntsman." There is something strange in her tone, even though she moves quickly away from them both.

Emma looks up at him once more, finding that he seems just as confused, watching her fading form. After a moment, he places a hand on the small of her back; it is just shy of appropriate. "Come."

X

Her body creeps with impatience as they trail through the powder, boots crunching along the crystals. His coat swings as he glances back at her, but he never pauses.

It is only once they have made their way deep into the forest that he stops. She recognizes his old camp, the traces of a fire pit and furs strung up to create a shelter. He turns to her seemingly all at once, his cheeks pink from cold and his eyes dark with emotion. "Emma."

She grins to hear her name from his mouth after so long. She can't help herself from throwing her arms around his neck, and he catches her easily. Desperately, she firmly presses her lips to his. He kisses her back, arms winding around her waist to press her tight against his chest, consuming her in a way that steals her breath and lightens her soul.

He is smiling when they part, plucking a few flakes of snow from her braid. "I never thought I'd ever be this excited to see snow," he remarks.

She hums, and leans on tiptoes to kiss him again, eager to taste him after so long. It rushes through her blood, the need she has for him, and as she drifts back she buries her face into his neck. "Graham," she whispers into his skin, the name she'd chosen for him just a year ago. Home. "I've missed you terribly."

They used to speak, all the time. She had coaxed stories from him like no one else in the kingdom could, learning all she could about him and his ideas. But they have been too cautious now that their relationship has grown, too worried that a mere glance will give away the ruse. They still talk, but she misses the way he could blend words into a natural narrative for only her.

And she has missed his touch so very, very much.

His fingers tighten into her hips, burning through the fabric of her dress. "I know," he says simply, then nudges his forehead into hers. He is much more patient than she, but she can still feel the longing with every breath he draws from her lips.

She sighs contentedly before the feverish heat itches its way through her fingers. She pulls apart the toggles at the top of his jacket. "You'll keep me warm?" she asks huskily.

"Always, my princess."

X

She wakes some time later, the sun still high in the sky. She stretches languidly and smooths the front of her underdress. Her body is deliciously sore, and the bed made of furs is soft and enveloping but also empty. She smells wood burning, and parts the hides that cover the shelter to find her huntsman stoking a fire. Even though it is chilly as she emerges with bare arms, she crosses to his side and leans into him. "You don't want to rest?"

He pulls her into his lap with his free hand, thumb stroking her forearm. He watches her in that way he always does, such that he is almost studying her every line and curve. Finally, he shakes his head. "It is still the forest, Princess. There are dangers to protect you from."

She rolls her eyes. "I would feel much safer if my knight was with me. Back in bed."

He grins at that, and leans in to scrape his teeth gently against her soft neck: not near enough to make a mark that would give away their endeavors but enough to send shivers to her core. "I will join you as much as you wish, Emma. But I was also told to keep my princess from freezing."

She leans into him and he covers them both in his coat, shielding them from the weather and ash from the smoke. "You've found us some food," she notes, seeing the sticks already prepped with meats.

He nods into the crook of her neck, and his beard scratches enticingly against her. "Protecting you does include feeding you, does it not?" he asks slyly.

"You had better." She doesn't wish for it, but her worries surface from his words as he holds her close. "You will let me protect you when it is time, won't you?"

He presses a kiss into her curls, just above the crown that still weighed on her head. He doesn't have to ask what she means. "There will be nothing to do," he breathes. "You are the heir, Emma. This is treason."

She shuts her eyes tight, feeling the sting of tears at the back of her throat before she pushes them down. "They are not the Usurper," she reminds. "They love me, and when they realize how I love you—"

"I am only just a knight these past two years, and decades older than you," he says darkly. "I will be punished regardless."

She shudders. His tone is exact, and she knows she's pushed too hard with the reminder of his past captor. She presses her hands to his heart, the one she only was able to restore to him a year and a half ago.

"Let's not talk of these things," he whispers, and there is something in it that betrays how much he aches at the thought of their separation. He brushes his hand through her hair, and she notices that there are icicles on his lashes. He presses a slow, searing kiss to her lips, and suddenly her worries no longer matter for the moment. "I will take you back to bed, my love."

X

This time, he is the one that sleeps.

Her hair is loose and tangled, underdress strewn somewhere far-flung, and she is flushed and marked in areas that will be easy to hide. She stays awake, her hands pulling absently through his curls as he breathes heavily across her naked skin. His arms are wrapped possessively around her, and his brow is furrowed even in dreams.

It floors her, how much he trusts her. She has always been a cautious person, so unlike her mother. He has reason to be so much more so, and it colors his every interaction. With others, she could see the disdain and fear trailing across his nerves. And to see him place his whole life in her hands makes her shake from the proof that he feels the same way about her that she does for him.

She knows he has suffered more than she knows, that he is far more attuned to what could go wrong than she. She knows he feels he has much to atone for, that her parents disagree verbally but quietly agree. She knows he is technically the age of her parents, though sometimes she forgets. Perhaps those facts will stir alarm in the King and Queen.

She wishes their lives weren't so separate. She feels deep inside her that they fit, her soul practically singing in awareness around him. But their lives seem to argue against that feeling, against how much she truly loves him.

It all seems so doomed.

She knows she will try, no matter what he says. She will dig her heels in and demand that her parents understand. But the fear is a cold fist, and she can't be the first to tell them.

In the meantime, she will enjoy their time, his breathing, the sound of snow falling.

X

She still feels his fingers in her hair, twisting the braid back into place and adjusting her tiara, as she passes the gates just as dusk is falling. It was the last they touched, and she misses him already even though he is still with her.

Her breath is fog, blowing away snowflakes from her path.

He is behind her, the warmth of his aura the one thing keeping her sane as her throat closes up at the sight of the castle. Her eyes sting, but she pulls her full basket close and steels her spine.

The skies seem to stop for the moment, air completely still as the clang of the metal sounds behind them.

They pause at the doors, and she can feel his hesitance, his sorrow at the juncture between their world and reality. She turns her head, just slightly, and whispers a promise. "Next week."

He doesn't answer, but she can see the way his eyes light before he ducks his head.

The cover of fog and cold and snow were things she never knew she could anticipate so much.