She just wanted to leave. To get away from the small men with their small tempers. To be away. But as she lay on their table (coffin, might as well be her coffin) she knew she would never leave now. It was all because she trusted the dwarves who claimed to be her friend. Who said they just wanted her to have a bite to eat before she left.
She knew now that it was naïve of her to expect them to let her go, the only female they had ever known. But they had welcomed her into their home, and their hospitality and their friendly-ness made her forget that they weren't men, weren't people she could understand and charm and leave. If only she hadn't eaten the apple they had given her. If only she had understood then that charming them might not be the best idea, even if it got her what she wanted: a bed, food, company. She wished she could go back and erase all her mistakes. Life isn't like that.
They think she's asleep. She can't move, but she can hear and feel and think. So she couldn't fight, but she could feel it when they took their turns exploring her body. She felt the first ones fingers clumsily undress her. And she wished she could at least weep for the betrayal. And she knew no prince would come.