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21 - Awaken

Snow

"Liar," She said.

Snow faced the mirror trying on her old dresses just ten minutes before dinner. Aragon Grimlake demanded a proper homecoming. He was arriving from his travels, a viceroy for the wolf packs of their region demanded he left and attended to the border.

It was a job of constant diplomatic exchanges, whether it was just a simple ordinance implementation, or a raise in taxes. Her father was an official directly under the council of alphas and his profession demanded most of his time and energy.

"You look ...nice," Clara said, "We just need to tighten your corset and it'll fit."

Snow looked like a twelve year old. A great chunk of muscle left her skin clinging to her bones. Her cheeks were sharper, the shadow under them darker and deeper. The collar of her nightgown would drop to her shoulders, exposing her elongated neck. Her skin was pale above the bluish marks of her veins. It was smooth and pale - almost see through. She knew she lost weight, but her sisters would comfort her, saying that it only came with the disease.

The loss in the bulk of her body was subtle. They'd reassure her. But, Snow didn't believe them. She didn't know what to believe.

A month has passed since the incident. Her sister described it as the daydreamer's sickness. A merchant was found with the same illness, not far into the woods, Snow was said to have caught it while hunting.

It's all just a dream. The plague has taken you. You slept through winter. Now, you've awakened.

At least, that's what they all said. It was to reassure her, offer her a solid answer. As long as it kept her silent, they'd tell it to her, again and again.

"I'll eat in my room," Snow said. Her chin dropping to her chest as she spoke.

"Oh come on," Clara replied, "One more dress. Let's try one more dress."

One more dress. One more lie.

"You'll recover from the illness, dear sister," Clara brushed her hair aside unhooking the loose blush dress from her body. Clara didn't need to do much as the dress fell right down. Snow's undergarments tugged against the heavy fabric, they too almost fell right down her shoulders.

Everything was falling, crashing down. It was gravity, so strong, she felt her heart sink with every breath.

Snow knew what happened.

She lived through it as clear as broad daylight. But she still needed to put the pieces together. She can't just scream his name and expect him to come for her. If by any chance a Torryn did exist, he couldn't hear her. And, if by any chance she was still sane, a Torryn might have not existed.

Snow knew what happened. She'd tell herself again and again. The memory was fresh and accurate, it did not feel like an element of the past. It felt like the present.

The Rogue. That night.

"Is Margaux coming?" Snow asked.

"We'll see," a wry smile painted her sister's face.

Clara looked like herself. Her belly was flat tucked behind an emerald green corset. Could Snow have just dreamed of Clara's pregnancy? Was there ever a child?

Snow clenched her fist just as tears began to blur her vision. She was about to be an aunt. A distant memory of Clara in the clearing haunted her.

The blood drenched tunic. Her screams. The drops of sweat dripping down her forehead as she pushed.